#Spring Cloud Task

[javadevtech]

Spring Cloud 2025.0.0-RC1 (aka Northfields) has been released

Estimated reading time: 2 minutes Spring Cloud 2025.0.0-RC1 release has updates in several modules. These include Spring Cloud Config, Spring Cloud Gateway, Spring Cloud Task, Spring Cloud Stream, Spring Cloud Function & More. Following article details the changes in the release and what modules are affected. Info About Release Release TrainSpring Cloud 2025.0.0 Release Candidate 1…

[dollfacefantasy]

LAST MINUTE ♡

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: when frank won't give you attention, you have to convince him not to leave somehow...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, boot humping, praise/degradation

wc: 3.3k

a/n: i love him i love him i love him sooooo badddddd. if you send me asks about this man i'll make out with you sloppy. anyways, comments and reblogs appreciated too <3

kinktober slot: day 25 - boot humping

Frank's eyes cast over to the corner of the room where you're sitting in front of the mirror. He can hear you humming to yourself, your voice rising and falling to the soft tune of a song you'd been obsessed with for the last few weeks. Your fingers smear some lotion across your cheeks. The pads of them massage the cream into your malleable flesh.

Your gaze catches his watching you through the reflective pane. He sees a smile spread across your lips before you turn around and spring to your feet. Your body is only covered by a t-shirt of his along with the pair of panties lying beneath. You prance across the bedroom and glide around to hover behind him.

The scent of your lotion and shampoo from the shower you'd just taken cloud the air surrounding him. It's light and airy, like the vision of you that floats through his head nowadays. He wasn't sure when you'd taken up permanent residence there, though he couldn't really complain. Thoughts of you are better than echoing gunshots or screams.

He hums in acknowledgement of your proximity, giving your forearm a pat with his rough hand. It's smooth beneath his fingertips. So untouched it feels wrong to drag his calloused skin across it.

You don't seem to mind though. Not with the way you duck your head and kiss his cheek.

"It seems like something's bothering you," you murmur, the wisps of your breath brushing over his face.

His attention returns to the weapons in front of him. He focuses on cleaning the parts and putting them back together. Your words were kind of stupid. There's always something bothering Frank. Moments where he has a clear head are few and far in between; reserved for when he's asleep in your arms or balls deep in your cunt.

He doesn't say anything rude though. He knows you're trying to be sweet. The statement is your subtle attempt at offering up your ear. You always told him he could vent. He could cry over the past or seethe about his plans for the night, either way you'd be right there. But that would only be if he ever actually took you up on that offer.

Instead, all you get in response is a grunt before a muttered "'m fine, baby."

You frown. He can see it out of the corner of his eye. Your lips turn into that pitiful little pout that drives him up the wall. Good thing his eyes are locked on a different target right now.

"Are you sure? Feel like you got something on your mind," you try again. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, fingers beginning to tenderly massage his tense deltoids.

"Told you I'm fine," he says again. The words are firm and closed off, but they don't strike you as unkind.

"Wellll… if there was anything wrong, would there be anything I could do to make it better?" you whisper.

Your lips press against his cheek bone again before migrating downward. Your soft, plump lips coasts over his jawline and onto his throat. You feel his smile make a brief appearance on his face, but his hands don't stop rotating the cleaning rag over the grip of his gun. He hasn't abandoned his task for you. Yet.

"There's nothing wrong. Don't start makin' a fuss over it," he grumbles.

"C'monnn, Frankie," you say softly, "Just tell me one thing. Even if you feel fine, just tell me one thing that you'd like."

A few more gentle pecks land on his neck. Your fingers continue to swirl and massage into the tender muscles in his shoulders.

"I'd like it if you got some rest tonight and didn't stay up worrying about me or watching the news," he responds.

You roll your eyes. Of course, you were gonna do that regardless. You always worried about him when he was 'working.' He'd spend the hours out taking care of what - or who - ever, and you'd occupy that time in your apartment doing just as he said, pouring over news reports and bouncing your leg until you were so tired your eyes couldn't stay open if they wanted to.

"Be seriousss," you whine, growing more petulant with him.

He glances over at you upon hearing that tone. That rise in pitch never did you any favors with Frank. He didn't fall for the puppy eyes or quivering lip.

"I am serious. I don't want you worrying or stressing. I'll be back tonight, and I want to come back to you sleeping in bed. Not watching for me at the fire escape," he says.

"Ok well pick something I can actually give you now," you concede.

Space. That's what he wants to tell you. Not in an annoyed way. He loves your touch, adores feeling your body heat oozing off of you. But it's hard to get in the mind frame of a killer when your breasts are pushing against his back and your nose is gliding over his throat.

He doesn't say that though because he knows no matter what tone of voice he says it in, you'll only take it in the 'I'm sick of you' way.

"What makes you think I need anything?" he asks. He puts the handgun he'd been working on down on the table and picks up a larger assault weapon instead.

"Oh my god, you're so difficult," you huff, "I'm just trying to be nice to you. I don't like seeing you all grumpy and stressed."

You may not have liked it, but grumpy and stressed was the version of Frank you saw the most. It was the one you fell in love with. The one that spends the night here in your apartment most days of the week. The one who's hoodies you wear. The one who holds you while you sleep and grunts against your skin when he has a bad dream.

"I'm not. I'm just thinking. You're making something out of nothing, sweetheart," he chides.

"You know… I think you just don't want to admit that you need a night off," you say, nodding in agreement with yourself.

"No."

"Just wait. Don't shoot it down before I explain," you try to reason.

"No," he says again.

"Yes! You'd feel so much better if you had one single night to relax," you argue.

He looks at you with a bit of disbelief. "I can't just call in sick. There is no 'night off,'" he says. His tone is strict, no room for negotiation or bargains, but that doesn't stop you from trying.

"I know, but you don't have to go out. You could text your 'people' and they could do whatever for the night," you say. His people is the term you call whoever he works with. You know there's at least one other guy, he's just never told you any names or details. "Just one night to let me take care of you. It would be good for you. And plus, I miss you," you pout.

He eyes you for a moment, dark pupils scanning over each small curve of your face. The pause gives you hope that he's considering it. That maybe he'll choose to stay with you instead of the shipping yards or rooftops.

"Don't give me that 'I miss you' act. You know I miss you too, but I can't just stay with you and sit on my ass all night cause you think it's the magic cure to me being a hardass," he says.

You narrow your eyes as the look on your face likens more to sulking.

"It's not magic… just if you rest, you'd be less uptight," you say. You loop your arms around his neck again and smoosh your cheek against his, letting the prickly spikes of his stubble scratch you.

With a little sigh, your attention shifts to what he's working on. He's still cleaning the metallic item on the desk in front of him. You watch his hands work, moving in methodical swipes. Efficacy learned from years of experience. Still, it's so boring to you that you can't even come up with a question to feign interest. Not that he'd answer anyways. He didn't like involving you in his other job.

You puff air through your lips to signify your apathy. "Frank…" you whimper, right by his ear, soft and quiet.

Usually, you avoid asking him to stay home. You never complain about the awkward hours or inconsistent time you get with him. You don't accuse him of being uncaring or allege that he's using you. But maybe it's the fact that he so blatantly denied you tonight that has your mind acting up.

"Quit while you're ahead, baby. I don't wanna argue before I leave," he says.

"I'm not trying to argue. Why can't you just consider it?" you ask.

"You know why. Now, enough," he says, bringing the discussion to an end.

Your head slumps over onto his shoulder, your ear flush against the cotton of his shirt. Of course, you know why. You know why this stuff is important to him. And it makes you feel guilty for even suggesting a brief reprieve from it.

Sagging down, you slide around to the front of his chair and drop to your knees at his feet. You rest your head on his thigh, displeasure displayed across your lips.

"You're so mean to me," you mutter.

He glances down at you, smirking a little at your exaggerated defeat. "You think so?" he prompts.

"Mhm," you hum, nuzzling against the denim covering his leg.

You scoot a little closer to his leg, pressing your torso flush against the limb. Closing the distance brings his foot to rest right between your legs. You feel it, but you don't care to notice it yet. Instead your fingers massage his calve absentmindedly.

The bedroom is quiet for a few moments spare the sounds of fabric rustling and both of your soft breaths. He just watches you for a few moments before you feel his hand pet the curve of your head.

"So unfair," he says.

You suppress the smile wanting to show on your features. The look of joy at receiving his attention. His thumb swipes back and forth over your skull. The warm weight of his palm coasting over you does soothe ypu even if you still wanna act coy.

"Yeah, especially cause I just wanna spend time with you," you sigh.

"You'll get to. Tomorrow," he responds. You can hear the clipped amusement in his voice.

Just as quick as it came, his hand leaves your head. It's back to the table. He moves onto a knife now, cleaning some grimy stain that you don't even want to know the origin of.

Shifting your head upward, you rest your chin on his knee and glare at him. "But-"

"I'm not gonna tell you again the answer is no."

The words die in your throat, leveling down to a whine. "See? Mean," you say.

You turn your head back to his side, squishing your cheek against his knee. The hard bone divots the soft flesh of your cheek like a crater on the moon.

You're content to just sit in this position and rest there until he stands up to go. To cling to his leg like the words "please please please" are about to spill from your lips. But in your deflated state, you sink down a bit more. You relax the muscles in your thighs and inadvertently bring the seat of your panties in direct contact with the scuffed top of his boot.

It doesn't shoot bliss through you like a bolt of lightening, but it sparks a fuse in the pit of your belly. The solid curve of it slotted right up against your clothed heat.

As an experimental touch, you grind your hips down. You make sure to be subtle, not wanting him to see what you're doing before you can determine if it's worth the humiliation. The muted sensation of pleasure that fills your belly answers that question quickly though.

Once you get the first taste, you rock your hips back and forth in little bursts. It wouldn't be noticeable to a quick glance, but a more intentional look would catch the way your ass pushes forward and back.

What gets him to notice is the feeling of you gripping his leg tighter. You press the hard front of his shin between your breasts and down your stomach harder. That gets him to look in your direction. When he does, he finds the sight of you getting yourself off with his boot.

"What're you doing?" he asks, giving you the chance to explain first.

"Nothing," you answer almost instantly.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Doesn't feel like nothing," he says as he tilts the point of his shoe upward. The boost grants some more friction to your clit, drawing a sharp whine out of you.

"Might have to get you a collar if you keep acting like a puppy, baby," he teases.

"I'm not," you whimper. You press your face harder against his knee as if it could act as a shield against the embarrassment.

"Really? Whining and humping my leg like you're in heat doesn't count?" he mocks.

"Shut up," you choke out.

"Attitude," he tuts. He shakes his head before his eyes flit back to the weapon on the table, letting you do your thing.

And you take advantage of that. Your hips move back and forth like a pendulum. You can feel the thin cloth of your underwear getting sticky as arousal leaks from you at the soft stimulation blooming between your legs. Your poor, swollen clit presses on the firm material as you let out a raucous whine. He tsks at you from above.

"It's getting late. You might wanna keep your volume down," he says.

The words come out so dismissive, so passively entertained. As if you're merely background noise. You can't help whining again. Your grip tightens on him, and your hips move in broader circles. If he's just going to let you do this, you're going to take advantage.

More sparks of white hot pleasure fizzle between your thighs. Your cunt ruts over the expanse of Frank's boot in quick strokes. The fabric of your panties only serves to provide some extra friction. Your eyes flutter and your cheek feels numb from the pressure of his kneecap again.

It feels as if you're in your own little world while doing this. Even if you're attached to him, it still seems like you're in a haze of your own at the moment. Just a lusty daze focused on making yourself feel good.

Vaguely, you can hear the clicks of his equipment above. The rustling of pouches and cloths. The clunking of organization. It all means nothing to you. The only thing you're concerned with is how your folds spread across the shape of his shoe.

You mewl softly. A trickle of saliva leaks from your mouth onto the rough fabric of his pants. All your thoughts have melted away. Your limbs stay locked around his leg, ensuring you have secure leverage to rock yourself back and forth.

He still doesn't acknowledge you. His eyes stay on the table. Honestly, you would believe he didn't even know you were there if not for him lowering his foot and then raising it again. The motion gives you a burst of stimulation, an interruption to the rhythm you'd set for yourself.

A desperate whine crackles out of your throat. You spread your thighs further to get down on him and press your aching pussy against him harder.

"Frank…" you whimper before biting your lip for a moment.

This time he doesn't disregard the call for him. He reaches down, sweeping his hand over your head and cupping your jaw. He directs you to look up at him and gets clear view of your empty eyes.

"What is it, baby?" he asks. His thumb brushes back and forth across your lower lip. The simple touch is enough to send you into orbit.

"I…" you try to start. But words are hard to conjure when thoughts have become nothing more than memory. "I love you," you end up choking out.

He chuckles. "Yeah, you do," he agrees.

You whine and lower your head again. Your body doesn't stop swinging your hips. His hand migrates back to the top of your head.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says. His voice rumbles out low and quiet, so gravelly you can almost feel the vibrations in your bones.

He continues to gaze down at you. His eyes drink in the sight of you getting yourself off on his leg. Your hips constantly drag over the seamless surface of his shoes. Cute little noises pour from your mouth in a never-ending flow. Your eyes scrunch up and your nose crinkles when rushes of euphoria course through you.

"You gonna cum on my boot, doll? Gonna make a mess?" he rasps.

You nod eagerly. "Mhm. Mhm. Mhm," you whimper. In direct contrast to his, your voice floats into the air light and soft.

"Do it. Maybe I'll have you lick it up afterwards. I know you'd do it. Shit, you'd probably fucking like it," he says.

That's all you need to rush the spark on your fuse to the end and send you into an explosion of pleasure. Your back arches and you cling to his leg like it's a lifeline. Your grip gets so tight that had you been more lucid, you probably would have worried about cutting off his circulation.

Your pussy clenches around nothing, your walls fluttering with the urge to feel him spilling inside you in unison. Regardless, you keep rabbiting your hips and working yourself over the peak. Your noises come out more whiny and full of need, aching to hear his grunts in your ear.

As blissed out as you are, your droopy eyes still catch sight of the solid bulge in his pants. You hold out hope that maybe you'll get to have some of what you long for before he goes.

The intensity of your high begins to simmer down to a satisfying warmth as you reach the end. Your hips move slower and slower until they come to a stop. You catch your breath, panting and leaning against his leg totally lax.

He doesn't say anything. He just finishes up what he was doing and lets you come down on your own.

After a few minutes though, he does scoop you up off the ground and into his lap.

"That feel good?" he asks.

Your head bobs up and down.

"Looked like it," he grumbles.

"Not as good as it would've felt with you though," you murmur.

He stares at your content, post-release face. It's not a surprise you want more. Had you not hinted at wanting him to fuck you properly after that, he would have been actually concerned for your well-being.

"Guess you'll have to wait till I get back to find out," he says lowly with a kiss to your temple.

"But Frank…" you say, lazily sliding your hand down. The center of your palm lands on his swelling bulge, giving it enough pressure to drag a hiss from his lips.

He pauses, lets you stroke him a few times. It feels good. He knows he should just push you off. Should send you off to bed now that you're all nice and relaxed. But he can't resist that light caress.

Sighing he lifts you and steps over to the edge of the bed. Dropping you back on the mattress, he starts to remove his belt.

"You got fifteen minutes, ya little brat. After that, I'm still leaving," he tells you before dropping forward and hovering over your body, bringing your lips into a brisk kiss.

[tialiea]

𝒯𝐼𝐿 𝒟𝐸𝒜𝒯𝐻 𝒟𝒪 𝒰𝒮 𝒫𝒜𝑅𝒯

Pairing | Bo Chow x fem reader

𖣁 Summary : After your father's passing, you and your mother moved from South Carolina to Mississippi to be closer to family. You temporarily stayed with your aunt, Annie's mother. During a trip into town, you met the love of your life, Bo Chow.𖣁

Word count | 5.6k +

Warnings : Mature content | cursing, use of the n-slur, spitting ( very quick ), unprotected sex, finger-sucking, cunnilingus.

Authors note : This was originally going to be all fluff, but my friend pulled my arm. It's my first time writing smut in years, by the way. (This is pretty self-indulgent; the reader's background is based on me a little. :) ) You, Bo, Stack, Smoke, and Annie are all around the same age.

I’m not very familiar with how weddings work, so I tried my best. I even looked up wedding scripts and movie scenes, so if it’s a bit out of order, give me some grace, please.

The air is crisp and warm on this early spring day. Freshly bloomed flowers and green grass fill the scene, and the sound of last-minute adjustments to ties and hairdos fills the silence.

“Bo, calm down before you pass out,” could be heard by passersby in one of the church's changing rooms.

“I’m fine, Smoke,” Bo said, about to light a cigarette.

“Man, you can't be smokin' in no damn church,” uttered Stack, taking the cigarette from Bo’s trembling fingers.

“Look, you’s marrying y/n, not a stranger. When she walks down that aisle, I bet you'll forget about all them nerves you got,” Smoke said, patting Bo on the back.

Bo, Stack, and Smoke were always close to one another, lending a hand to each other when things got tough.

When Bo’s family immigrated to the United States seeking stability in Mississippi, he quickly formed a bond with the twins and the people who made up the small community of Clarksdale. Here, his parents built a business, a small one, but one that was a necessity, one that was an opportunity to better this town even a little bit.

Here is where he met you, due to Smoke, of course. You are Annie's cousin from South Carolina. Your pa passed, leaving your mother widowed with barely anything to lean back on. She decided to pack up her stuff, along with 19-year-old you, and move to Mississippi with her sister and brother-in-law.

Residing with your aunt was something to get used to, but her daughter Annie was like the sister you’ve never had. Always attentive, loving, and easy to talk to. Quickly, you found out she was talking to this Smoke boy. Talks of him and that twin of his were easy to overhear in this town.

“Annie, let me meet this boy you’re head over heels in love with,” you pouted, sighing when Annie ignored you, tending to her herbs.

Annie playfully rolled her eyes at your comment. “y/n, I'm not in love with him. We’re just talking, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Girl, please,” you uttered, shaking your head. “That boy got you walking like you’re on clouds. He's good for ya.”

Annie lets out a defeated sigh. “Well, he’s stopping by later to see me, and I'm sending him to the store in town for a few things.”

Just then, the engine of a car could be heard from afar.

You squint your eyes to see the two figures better. “Looks like he came early,” you said with a knowing grin towards Annie.

Smoke and Stack approached with an air of casual confidence, their footsteps echoing in the dirt.

“Annie, I hope you don't mind we came by early,” Smoke said smoothly as he made his way to Annie and gently kissed her hand. “Me and Stack got some important tasks needing to get done.”

“And who’s this beauty right here?” Stack interjected, nodding toward you.

You smiled softly, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. "I'm y/n, Annie's cousin," you replied.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Stack and that’s my brother Smoke,” he introduced himself, a friendly grin spreading across his face as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Oh, I know who y’all are,” you said, a smile breaking across your face. “I be hearin' y’alls names damn near everywhere I go.”

“Is that so?” Stack muttered in amusement. “Where you from?” Stack asked, getting a cig out of his pants pocket.

“South Carolina,” you responded, taking a moment to glance around.

“Hmm, interesting. What makes you come up to good ol’ Mississippi?” Stack inquired, lighting the cigarette and exhaling a thin plume of smoke.

“Momma decided it was best to come up here, to be closer to family,” you said.

At that moment, Smoke shot a look over at the two of you. “Stack, leave that girl alone,” he interjected, a teasing warning in his voice.

“Damn, a nigga can't make conversation?” Stack said, taking yet another puff from his cigarette.

You let out a laugh. “He’s fine,” you assured, glancing affectionately at Annie and Smoke. “I'm glad I can meet the boy my dear cousin is so smitten by.”

“Well, me and Stack are headin' into town to get a few things for Annie. You want to come with us?” Smoke asked.

"Hell yeah, let me grab my handbag," you said with an enthusiastic nod as you turned toward the porch.

“ Nah, that ain't necessary. We got you.” Smoke replied, making his way to the car, not before kissing Annie on the cheek.

Before you could respond, Annie interjected, her tone playful yet assertive. “She got her own money, Smoke,” she said with a knowing side glance.

“ I know, but what’s the harm in paying for family?” Smoke replied to Annie with a grin spreading across his face as he shrugged casually, unbothered.

Just then, Stack honked the car horn.

“Nigga, hurry up! It smells like it's about to rain,” he yelled from the driver's seat.

Smoke swiftly ignored Stack before shifting his focus back to you and Annie. “Come on, baby, just this once I promise. Cross my heart.”

Annie sighed in defeat. “Fine, but you better watch her,” she said with a slight pout.

“ She’s in good hands, I promise.” Smoke said, placing one last kiss on Annie’s lips.

You squeal before hugging Annie. “Thank you, I’ll stay close to them and won't run their pockets, promise.”

You ran toward the car, waving to Annie with a wide smile as Stack opened the door for you.

Smoke smiled slightly, walking backward toward the car, and blowing Annie a kiss.

“Bye baby, see you soon.”

The car ride to town wasn't as long as you thought it would be. Conversation with Smoke and Stack came easily. You didn't even notice when the three of you made it to town.

“Alright, little lady, we here,” Stack said, stepping out of the car and once again opening the door for you.

“Damn, Stack, you weren't lying; it smells like it's about to start pouring down any minute.”

Smoke looked toward the both of you judgmentally. “What the fuck is wrong with y’all? I swear y’all are the only niggas who smell that shit.”

The store bell rings as the three of you walk in. “Smoke, it must be your nose then, ‘cause a normal person would be able to smell it,” you say, smiling as you take in your surroundings.

Before Smoke could retort, the back room door could be heard opening.

“Aye Bo, just the man I was looking for,” Stack uttered.

Adverting your attention from Smoke, you made eye contact with the man called Bo.

Your eyebrows went up in interest unknowingly.

Breaking eye contact, Bo replied to Stack,

“Yeah, what do you need me for?” he said, placing a pencil behind his ears.

“I need some ginger, lavender, and ink,” Stack said, taking a lollipop from the counter.

Bo made a face. Before he could speak, Smoke interrupted, “It's for Annie.”

Bo nodded in understanding before heading toward the front of the store.

“And who’s the pretty girl you’re with?” Bo said, pointing toward you with a soft smile.

“I'm Annie’s cousin,” you declared, sizing him up from head to toe. Your eyes swept over the crisp, white dress shirt that clung to his form, long sleeves rolled up displaying his forearms, apron accentuating his waist.

Bo chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eye. “Is that right?” he replied leaning in with curiosity.“And does Annie’s cousin have a name?” He raised a brow taking a moment to truly observe you. His gaze swept over the way your brown eyes shimmered in the warm glow of the store's lighting, your tight curls pinned up framing your face, bright yellow sundress dancing lightly around your figure, complementing your complexion.

You half-smiled in amusement. “It's y/n,” you uttered as Bo softly took your hand in his. “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles.

"Sir, if I didn't know any better, I would think you were flirtin' with me,” you replied to him with a soft tilt of your head.

Bo let out a hearty laugh. “And is that a bad thing, darlin’?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest. You took in a breath, your heart racing as you fluttered your eyelashes playfully. “Never said it was,” you replied, a teasing smile dancing on your lips.

Before Bo could retort back, Smoke interrupted. “I don't mean to intrude on this lovely meeting, but we’re on a time crunch,” he said, tapping one of the worn shelves next to him.

You playfully rolled your eyes before turning to the twins. Stack met your eyes with a knowing smirk. “Well, let me grab a little something since y’all are payin’,” you said with a purse of your lips, walking toward the box of Cracker Jacks you had your eyes on.

You grabbed the box of Cracker Jacks, swiftly making your way back up front as the three men waited on you. You set the box down on the counter along with Annie’s things.

While Bo began to add the items up, you couldn't help but stare at him longingly. Stack noticed and nudged you teasingly. Bo packaged the items before turning toward the three of you. “Anything else?” he said to Smoke. Smoke shook his head, grabbing the items as Bo came from the back of the front counter, making his way over to you.

“Hope you come visit again soon, darlin’,” Bo said, bringing an arm from his back, holding one single lily. You smiled in amusement before taking the flower and bringing it to your nose.

“We’ll see, Mr. Bo,” you said with a sultry whisper, making your way to the twins.

You were seated in the bridal room, Annie behind you putting on your pearl necklace.

You let out a breath. “Do you think Bo is as nervous as I am?” you said, fanning yourself.

“He can't be as nervous as you. If you keep all that stressin', you’ll sweat through your gown,” Annie teased, clasping your necklace.

“Momma and Auntie are already in the sanctuary sitting in the front row.” You giggled to yourself before raising your hand to your chest. “I just wish Daddy was here to walk me down the aisle.”

Annie looked at you with understanding in her eyes. “He’s here; he’s always here, y/n.”

You nodded. “I know,” you replied with a slight smile. You felt the knot develop in your throat and began to sniffle.

Annie quickly grabbed a handkerchief. “Oh y/n, don't start all that cryin' now; you ain't even walked down the aisle yet,” Annie said, rubbing your shoulders.

“I know, I know,” you chuckled, taking the handkerchief to dab the corners of your eyes. Just then, a firm knock on the door echoed throughout the bridal room. Annie left her spot from behind you, opening the door to reveal both Stack and Smoke dressed in striking black tuxedos.

“How’s Mrs. Chow?” Stack uttered, hugging Annie and then moving toward you.

You got up from the vanity with a smile. “I ain't Mrs. Chow yet,” you laughed, hugging Stack.

“Bighead, you know I was jokin’. Your groom's about to piss his pants though. ” He let out a soft chuckle, before gently loosening his hold on you.

He then took the time to take you in. “You look beautiful, really,” he smiled, the grills that adorned his teeth glistening. He then sighed dramatically. “Bighead, growin' up on me.” He shook his head, grasping his chest.

Annie and Smoke both chuckled by the door.Smoke nudged Stack aside, making room as he turned his attention to you. “How you doin', y/n?” Smoke asked you softly, wrapping his arms around you for a hug.

“Like my heart's about to jump outta my chest,” you replied, separating from Smoke.

Annie then interjected. “She been worryin' all mornin';” she said, resting an arm on Smoke.

“Bo's been the same, but worse,” Stack smiled from the other side of you and shook his head. Just as he spoke there was yet another knock on the door. Annie glanced toward the door, her brow furrowed in curiosity, as she moved to answer it, before she could reach it, Smoke stepped forward and swung it open.

Standing in the doorway was Cornbread. his expression a mix of enthusiasm and determination.

"Alright, it's go time, y'all," he declared, as he scanned the four of you with an encouraging grin.

You inhaled deeply,.With careful hands, you picked up your bouquet from the nearby chair. You then took the time to look over yourself in the vanity one final time. Turning to Stack, you reached out to take his arm, “You ready?” he said, smiling and raising an eyebrow. “Ready as I'll ever be,” you replied, clutching your bouquet tighter.

Smoke, with Annie linked across his arm, glanced back at you both, "Here we go, y'all," he announced.

The sound of the piano could be heard from where you and Stack were. Annie and Smoke made their way down the aisle together. The rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen followed suit. The ring bearer made his way down the aisle, not before almost tripping on his feet. Affectionate laughter could be heard throughout the sanctuary. You and Stack moved closer to the entryway, closely watching as the little flower girl spread white rose petals down the aisle.

You looked up at Stack, but before you could say anything, he whispered with a smile, "Girl, don't be passin' out now." You exhaled with relief when you both reached the entryway. Your guests began to stand, turning their attention toward you. Time seemed to slow when you saw Bo standing at the altar.

Both you and Smoke started walking down the aisle slowly. You couldn’t help but tear up as you saw all the people who had come to support you and Bo. This overwhelming feeling of community filled your heart.

Bo fell in love with you all over again as he watched you walk down the aisle with Stack. Your gown flowed beautifully as you walked, the intricate design of the dress accentuating your figure. Your hair cascaded down your neck, thanks to the roller treatment you had the day before, and your eyes sparkled just like they did when he first met you. You cradled a bouquet of baby’s breath in your hands.

Before Bo realized it, a tear rolled down his cheek, and that’s when you finally stood before him. He felt your palm gently touch his face, wiping away his tear.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, smiling at Bo. “Hey, darlin’,” Bo replied, his voice shaky. You took both of his hands and turned to the pastor.

The pastor requested that everyone take a seat before he began. "Welcome, family and friends. We are here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Y/n and Bo Chow. This marks the next chapter in their lives together. They have spent years getting to know each other, and today we see how their relationship has grown. They will formally and publicly affirm their bond."

Bo and Y/n will celebrate their love today, but they will also celebrate the love from all of us especially from their parents, siblings, extended family, and best friends. Without that love, today would not be as joyful."

“ Now the couple would like to say their heartfelt words with one another," the pastor announced.

You took a deep breath, as you removed the small folded paper from your bouquet, As you lifted your gaze to meet Bo's expectant eyes.

“I love you with all my heart. I promise to love you, trust you, encourage you, and respect you. I will work with you to build a fair and caring relationship, knowing that together we can create a better life than we could alone. Today, I accept you as you are and offer myself to you in return. I will care for you, stand by you, and share all of life’s challenges and joys from this day forward and for the rest of my life. “

After you finished speaking you didn't notice the tears welling in you eyes. Bo gently caressed your hands before reciting his words to you.

“I fall in love with you every single day. Baby, with you, I have discovered a love that is steady, unwavering, and filled with a kind of magic I never knew existed. I vow to love you in every way you need, on the days when life feels effortless and on those when it feels heavy. I promise to stand by your side, to believe in you, and to remind you every day just how deeply you are loved. You are my safe place, my greatest adventure, my forever. For all the days of my life, I choose you, over and over again, in every moment, in every lifetime, always.”

Bo finished speaking, taking a moment to express his feelings to you through his eyes. Your mother could be heard sobbing from the pew closest to you. The pastor then began to speak again, saying, “Ring bearer, please bring the rings.” The cute little boy made his way to stand in front of you and Bo.

The pastor continued, “A ring is an unbroken circle with ends that have been joined together, and it represents your union. It is a symbol of infinity and of your infinite love. When you look at these rings on your hands, be reminded of this moment, your commitment, and the love you now feel for each other.

Bo, place the ring on y/n’s finger and repeat after me: ‘Y/n, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love with the pledge: to love you today, tomorrow, always, and forever.’”

Bo does as he is told, placing the ring on your finger, his hands trembling lightly.

“And now, Y/n, place the ring on Bo’s finger and repeat after me.” You recite after the pastor, placing the ring on Bo’s finger as you gaze up at him once again.

“Do you, Bo Chow, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, for richer or for poorer, keeping yourself unto her for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Bo replied quickly, a smile spreading across his face.

“Do you, Y/n, take Bo Chow to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, for richer or for poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” you squealed, smiling with delight.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Mississippi, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride!” Exclaimed the pastor.

Bo didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Come here, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and inviting, sending a thrill through the air. His heart raced like a wild drumbeat in his chest as he leaned in closer. With a gentle urgency, his soft lips captured yours. The warmth of his mouth enveloped you as your tongues danced together, intertwining in a tender exploration that deepened the connection between you.

As you both moved away from each other, cheers could be heard throughout the sanctuary. Your mother rose from her seat, a warm smile lighting up her face as she places the intricately decorated broom in front of you and Bo. “I love you, sugar. “ she said, before making her way back to her seat.

The pastor stood at the front, his voice resonating sincerity. “Ladies and Gentlemen, brothers and sisters, I present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Bo Chow!” His words were met with joyful cheers and applause that filled the air,

You turned to Annie, your maid of honor, and tenderly handed her your bouquet. As you turned back to Bo, your fingers intertwined with his, you felt a rush of excitement. “Are you ready, baby?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

With a playful grin, you replied, “You know I am.” Both prepared to leap over the beautifully adorned broom placed before you.

The crowd erupted into enthusiastic chants, “1... 2... 3...” as you and Bo tightened your grip on each other’s hands. In that moment, you could feel the love surrounding you, uniting everyone in celebration. With a shared breath and a leap of faith, you both jumped over the broom, solidifying your vows in a joyful culmination of laughter and cheers from your family and friends.

While cutting the cake, you lifted a piece to Bo's mouth. Before he could take a bite, you smashed your hand in his face, spreading the vanilla cream over his lips.

Smoke’s loud-ass laughing could be heard in the background. “Big head got you good,” he shouted from the table closest to the both of you.

Bo chuckled softly, as he reached for a napkin . He glanced up at you, the corners of his lips still tugged into a smile. Your giggles began to subside, fading into soft, laughter. “Aww baby, you know I had to,” you said playfully, your fingers gently caressing his cheek while you puffed out your lips in a mock pout.

Bo remained silent, but his gaze was unwavering.

You stopped giggling and asked, "Why you lookin' at me like that, Bo?"

Bo didn’t answer; instead, he moved closer to you and softly grabbed your face to whisper in your ear.

"You makin it really hard to be a gentleman," Bo said, rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

You then pursed your lips and replied, "And what do you mean by that, Mr. Chow?"

“I’m gonna fuck you so good once we get back home, Mrs. Chow, that’s what I mean “ He replied planting a kiss on your jawline before turning to get another slice of cake. “ Can't be actin unclassy in front of everybody “. He stated softly, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the table with your mother and the others.

Bo pulls out your seat when Smoke begins to talk to him. “Bo, you’s a married man now; how it feel?” Smoke said, taking a drink of the beer he had nestled in his hands.

Bo sits down before responding, finding your hands under the table. “I’m feelin' amazing. It don’t feel real, man.” He chuckles, glancing at you.

Stack then chimed in, “Mhm, I bet. Is the store gonna be open during y’all's little honeymoon?” He remarked, a subtle grin playing at the corners of his lips.

You playfully roll your eyes. Bo’s grin widened. “I’m sure the town gon' be alright for two days.” He chuckles, tracing your hand with his thumb under the table.

Annie turned to face you and Bo, her smile warm and genuine. “I’m truly happy for both of you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. “I hope you enjoy every moment of yall’s honeymoon while you can.”

You gently slide your hand to Bo’s thigh beneath the table, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his dress pants. “Oh, we will,” you replied in softly.

Bo escorts you to the porch, bringing you to the front door. Taking out his keys and opening the door. Before you can step forward, Bo stops you. “Aht, Aht, darlin', I gotta carry you over the threshold,” Bo said, beginning to lift you up.

You squeal, “Bo!” You giggle.

He picks you up bridal style with ease, walking across the threshold and closing the front door with his foot.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Chow,” he says, walking you both into your home.

“Bo, you can put me down now,” you say with affection.

“Not yet, sugar. We ain't made it to the bedroom,” he said, biting his lips and grinning.

As you cross the threshold of the bedroom, you take in your surroundings and gasp.

“Baby, no you didn't! When did you even get the time to do all this?” you say, looking at the peonies spread across the bed.

“Don't worry 'bout it,” Bo replied, setting you down softly.

You sigh, “Fuck, I'm so tired,” you said, putting off your veil.

Bo looks at you with sympathy. “Oh my poor darlin’,” he says, cupping your face, caressing it softly, and moving closer to you. Your heart begins to flutter as he breathes lightly, his mouth close to yours.

“Want me to take your heels off?” He says teasingly.

You move back, annoyed. “Nigga, fuck you, you playin’ too much,” You exhaled deeply.

Bo smirks before replying to you, “We gettin’ to that. Be patient, baby.”

You move to playfully kick him, but he catches your foot, getting on his knees in front of you.

“I'm sorry, darlin’,” he pouts. He gently removes one of your heels and starts to rub your foot softly. You let out a soft moan as the tension in your feet begins to fade. Looking down at Bo, you find his brown eyes meeting yours just before he begins to kiss your ankle.

“You forgive me?” he asks. You purse your lips, pretending to think. “Hmm, I don’t know. I need more convincing.”

“Bàituō, bǎobèi” {please, baby}

He says desperately, kissing your ankles and moving up to your calves. Reaching the white garter you wore, he opens his mouth, latching his teeth onto the lace and pulling it down slowly until it reaches the bottom of your foot.

“What would you…” he pauses, looking up at you on his knees, eyes wide and filled with desperation. “Like me to do, Y/N? Beg? Fuck, I will, please…”

You smile. “I could never be mad at you” you say to him reaching down to stroke his his hair.

You bring your finger to your lip before saying “ You could taste me, though “ you pout.

Bo smirks. “put your leg over my shoulder then” he said eyes shining with want.

He pushes the bottom of your gown up, until he’s faced with the wet spot in your panties.

He outwardly shudders, opening his mouth to lick against your clothed cunt, sucking the fabric, groaning at the taste.

You let out a soft whine, Bo hears it and chuckles briefly moving from your clothed pussy.

“You like that baby?"   He asks, and sees the column of your throat bob as you nod, biting your lip with your eyebrows pursed.

Bo makes a face of mock disappointment toward you. “I need ya to say it, darlin,” he says, rubbing your thighs.

You whimpered feeling your folds clench around nothing before responding to Bo. “ I like it baby “ you say in a stuttered breath.

Bo shakes his head not satisfied “ Say it like you mean it” Bo says tracing kisses your thighs.

“ Baby, I Iove it please don't stop.” you whine out.

Bo says nothing as he’s faced with your clothed cunt once again. He moves both of his hands to take off your panties. When they're off he’s faced with your pretty pussy soaked for him.

He kisses your clit softly before you feel his tongue lick into your folds. He closes his eyes moaning at your taste.

Your chest heaved as you moved your legs. Bo grunted bringing one of his hands to pin your legs down.

You could feel him moving his tongue to lick your clit, making circles as he begins to move his head up and down.

You couldn't suppress a deep, throaty moan that escaped your lips, a sound filled with pure pleasure. As you closed your eyes, warmth enveloped you like a comforting embrace, and vivid sensations danced through your body, heightening each moment into an exquisite experience.

“Nuh-uh, don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me.” Bo said to you, briefly moving away from your pussy eyes sharp with lust.

He moves back to your cunt, putting your little bud into his mouth, eyes watching your face buried into the sheets.

You could feel yourself steering closer to the edge. Your head thrown back, mouth hanging open, letting out those melodic moans Bo strived to hear.

Bo began to move faster, knowing that you were close. You moved your hands to his head once again, raking your nails through his hair. Bo then let out a stuttered breath, feeding off of you.

You close your eyes, feeling fire pooling low in your abdomen, time slowing.

“ Oh, fuck Bo “ you scream out gripping his hair harder your vision fading to white, your orgasm coming in shockwaves.

Bo moves away from your pussy, planting a soft kiss on your throbbing clit. Your body still coming down from your high.

You feel Bo’s body hover over yours; he brings his hand to your chin, looking at your soft face, pretty eyes glistening, small amounts of sweat lining your forehead.

“ My poor darlin already fucked out huh?” He purred moving his hand to your neck.

You don't respond, but instead, move your head up to meet his. Bo then moves his hand to stroke your hair before brushing your lips together.

His lips slowly meeting yours, tongues merging together in unison. Bo’s hand finds its place on your neck once more. He begins to suck on your tongue, causing a gargled moan to erupt from your throat. Bo slowly moves from your mouth, saliva connecting the both of you.

“Open your mouth, sugar,” he whispered.

You do as such, sticking your tongue out.

Bo then cooed, before pursing his lips, spit dribbling onto your awaiting tongue.

“Don't swallow,” Bo husked, moving one of his hands to your mouth. You take his digits in your mouth, sucking slowly and gathering spit. You can feel the coldness of Bo’s wedding band against your lips.

Bo groans. “ That’s it baby” He practically whines. You begin gurgling around his fingers eyes watering. Bo then removes his soaked hands from your mouth, moving them to your

cunt rubbing slowly. You let out a soft mewl; Bo pouts.

“ I know baby, I know “. He cooed, Bo then stopped, rubbing your clit. Hands moving up your body again.

“Turn around, darlin ,” he groaned . You begin to turn around on the sheets, your back facing him. Bo sighs lovingly as he begins to unzip your dress, moving it down slowly until it reaches your legs. He then moves over you once more, turning you to face him. You smile up at him as he leans down to peck your lips.

You then proceed to remove his suit jacket. The rest of his clothing follows suit. Bo then moves up further in the bed, his back hitting the headboard.

You move your body above his, caressing his chest, placing love bites across his neck.

You slowly move up to cup his face, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, feeling dizzy from the wave of arousal that hits you.

You move your hand down to his leg reaching his hardened cock and stroking it, you then took your other hand bringing it to your mouth sucking on your fingers. Bo lets out a hoarse whimper at the sight.

Your soaked hand replaced the one softly stroking his cock. You move to straddle him, pussy already clenching. Bo looks at you, with a dazed look in his eyes.

“ Come on pretty, ride it like it belongs to ya.”He says as your hands splay across his chest.

The both of you moaning as you sink down on his cock.

Bo holds your hips, guiding you aimlessly, as you set your preferred pace. Your hips roll sensually against Bo. Head reeling back in pleasure as you engulf his length.

Bo, arched his back, his breath quivering. His eyes began to be fixed on you, eyeing as your breasts bounced as you moved. Bo trailed his hands down to softly knead your ass as you continue to grind on him.

Tears begin to line your eyes; overtaken by unadulterated ecstasy. Bo lets out a sinful whine as he pushes his hips up to meet yours.

“ Oh, shit” he shakingly cries out.

You could feel your second orgasm growing closer. “ Baby I'm bout to cum” you moan breathless, your walls clenching around Bo’s cock.

Bo then moves to put two fingers in his mouth moistening them, his hands reach toward your clit, beginning to stimulate you.

Bo could feel his own orgasm rushing in quick, blood buzzing in his ears. He begins to rut his hips against yours erratically. You move to grasp his hand, holding it, pressing your foreheads together, lips brushing against one another.

With one more thrust of his hips, you felt intoxicated by pleasure, babbling as you saw white. Panting as you look into Bo’s eyes.

The moment your eyes met Bo’s, his breath hitches, bringing your body closer to his. Hips moving up against yours frantically one final time, before letting out an animalistic growl, his cum painting your walls. Your shared bedroom filled with wet noises as your cunt squelched against his cock. He lazily moved against you, orgasm rippling through him.

Your heart stutters against your chest reeling from your high. Spent, both of you left flushed. The air was thick with the smell of sex, Bo purring against you, letting your breath tickle his ears as you collapsed against him.

Bo let out a soft chuckle, his breaths coming in uneven bursts. "I think we could use a good cleanin up after that," he murmured, gently pushing the damp curls away from your forehead. His voice was roughened, a low rasp that sent a thrill down your spine.

You cup his cheeks pecking his lips softly, purring.

“I wanna go again." you breathlessly giggle.

Taglist : @yummi3 , @pinkpantheris, @forsakenkrakendynamo,

Font / symbol credit : @sseraffin

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 HYBRID ENHYPEN DURING THEIR RUT . . !

enhypen 0T7 — GENRE : imagines headcanon hybrid au suggestive — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : they're very possessive! but dw none of them force anything — REQUESTED : yes ! ☆ — enha masterlist

HEESEUNG (deer hybrid) :

Heeseung was usually calm, composed, gentle, even. His presence was like a warm blanket, comforting and steady. But when his rut hit, that careful restraint began to crumble, piece by piece, leaving behind a version of him that was raw, primal, and utterly consumed by need.

At first, he tried to act like nothing was different. He busied himself with tasks around the house, his movements sharp and purposeful. His ears, soft and velvety, usually relaxed, were tense, flicking at the slightest sound. His tail, usually swaying lazily behind him, was stiff, the fur bristling slightly. He avoided your gaze, his warm brown eyes darkening whenever you got too close. But you could see the cracks in his resolve. His fingers twitched when your scent lingered in the air, his jaw clenched when you brushed past him. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm that betrayed his inner turmoil.

It wasn’t long before his patience wore thin.

You found him pacing the living room, his hands curled into loose fists, his footsteps heavy against the floor. His ears twitched with agitation, and his tail flicked sharply behind him. When you called his name, he froze, his entire body going rigid. Slowly, he turned to face you, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep himself in check. His pupils were dilated, his usually warm eyes now dark and clouded with something barely restrained.

“You should stay back,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost a growl. But despite his words, his body betrayed him. His feet moved toward you of their own accord, his instincts pulling him closer rather than away. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers flexing as if they ached to touch you.

When you stepped closer, testing him, Heeseung inhaled sharply. His ears flattened against his head, and his breathing hitched as he finally gave in, reaching out and pulling you against him. His grip was firm but careful, as if he was still fighting himself. His hands settled on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin slightly, grounding himself in your warmth. His lips brushed against the top of your head, his breath warm and heavy against your hair.

“Too close,” he whispered, but he didn’t let go. His body pressed against yours, his warmth seeping into you. His nose nuzzled into your neck, inhaling deeply, as if your scent was the only thing keeping him sane.

His rut made him restless, desperate for your warmth yet afraid of overwhelming you. Heeseung wasn’t the type to give in easily, but when it came to you, his instincts screamed at him to hold you close, to make you his.

JAY (black jaguar hybrid) :

Jay was a force of nature, a predator with a reputation for unshakable composure. But during his rut, that composure was unraveling, thread by thread, and you were the catalyst.

At first, he tried to keep his distance, his golden eyes tracking your every move with an intensity that made your skin prickle. His tail flicked with agitation, his muscles coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. He paced the room, his claws flexing at his sides, his breathing uneven. Every time you got close, even just brushing past him, his jaw tightened, and a low, almost imperceptible growl rumbled in his chest.

“You’re testing me,” he finally growled, his voice deep and gravelly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes were darker than usual, his pupils blown wide, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled your scent. “Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”

You hadn’t meant to provoke him, hadn’t even realized you were, but it didn’t matter. Jay’s restraint was crumbling, and the moment you took a step closer, he snapped.

In an instant, he was on you, his body pressing you back against the nearest surface. His hand slammed into the wall beside your head, the impact making you flinch, while his other hand gripped your waist, his claws digging just enough to remind you of his strength. His breath was hot against your neck, his chest heaving as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

“I should step back,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “But I don’t want to.”

His tail swished behind him, the tip brushing against your leg as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. His body was radiating heat, his muscles taut with tension, and you could feel the barely restrained power in every inch of him. His free hand trailed up your side, his claws leaving faint marks in their wake, and he let out a low, rumbling growl as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “I can’t think straight when you’re this close.”

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss fierce and demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he deepened it. His hands roamed your body, possessive and desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. The room was filled with the sound of his ragged breathing, the occasional growl that escaped his throat, and the soft, desperate noises you couldn’t hold back.

Jay was always in control, but right now, that control was gone, replaced by something primal and untamed. And you were at the center of it all, caught in the storm of his desire.

JAKE (wolf hybrid) :

Jake was always affectionate, always warm, but during his rut, that warmth turned into something raw, something hungry. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you, though that alone was enough to make your knees weak. His golden eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch, like he was barely holding himself back from devouring you whole.

It started subtly, as these things often do. His touches lingered, his fingers brushing against your skin with a possessiveness that sent sparks racing through your veins. He’d lean into you, his chest pressing against your back as he reached for something, his breath warm against your ear. His scent, woodsy, earthy, and utterly intoxicating, wrapped around you like a claim, and you could feel the low rumble in his chest whenever you were near.

“Stay close,” he murmured one evening, his voice thick with need. He pulled you onto the couch, his arms caging you in before you could even think about moving. His body was a furnace, heat radiating from him in waves, and when his hand slid around your waist, you could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back.

His wolf was close to the surface, and it was driving him wild. Every time you moved away, even just to grab a glass of water or adjust the blanket, his jaw clenched, his fingers twitched, and his eyes tracked your every movement like a predator. It was only a matter of time before he snapped.

“Where are you going?” His voice was a low growl, rough and edged with frustration.

“Just getting some water—”

Before you could take another step, Jake was behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back against him. His chest pressed into your back, his body hard and unyielding, and his nose buried into the crook of your neck. He inhaled deeply, a low, guttural sound escaping his throat.

“You smell too good,” he admitted, his voice thick with need, almost a whine. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you tighter against him, and you could feel the way his body trembled with restraint. “It’s not fair.”

His wolf was fighting for control, instincts screaming at him to claim you, to mark you, to make sure everyone knew you were his. His usual sweet, golden retriever demeanor was still there, but it was buried under something darker, something primal. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your neck as he spoke.

“Just stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice rough and desperate. His hands slid up your sides, his touch possessive, almost reverent. “Just for a little while.”

And honestly? With the way his body pressed against yours, with the way his voice sent shivers down your spine, you weren’t sure you could resist even if you wanted to. His warmth surrounded you, his scent enveloped you, and the way he held you, like you were the only thing keeping him grounde, made your heart race.

You could feel the tension in him, the way he was barely holding himself back, and it only made you want him more. His lips trailed along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, and you could hear the low growl building in his chest.

“Jake,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tightened his grip, his body shuddering against yours. “Mine,” he growled, the word rough and possessive, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about the moment. He was claiming you, and you were more than willing to let him.

SUNGHOON (snow leopard hybrid) :

Sunghoon’s usual composure was a thin veneer, and during his rut, it shattered completely. The air around him crackled with tension, his snow leopard instincts clawing at the edges of his control. He tried to keep it together, avoiding your gaze, burying himself in distractions, but it was futile. His tail flicked irritably whenever you were near, his ears twitching at the sound of your voice. Every breath you took, every subtle shift of your body, sent his senses into overdrive.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growled one evening, his voice rough, almost feral. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful, his icy eyes darkening as they locked onto yours.

You blinked, feigning innocence. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“That’s the problem,” he hissed, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “You just exist, and it’s enough to—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as he raked a hand through his hair, the strands disheveled and wild. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Before you could respond, he was on you, his hands gripping your waist with a force that bordered on possessive. He backed you against the nearest surface, his body pressing into yours, hot and unyielding. His usual chill was gone, replaced by a searing heat that burned through every inch of your skin.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was a low, guttural growl, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in closer. “Your scent—” He inhaled deeply, his nose brushing against the curve of your shoulder, his fingers tightening around you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. “It’s ruining me.”

His tail curled around your leg, pulling you even closer, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. His snow leopard instincts roared in his head, demanding he mark you, claim you, make sure no one else could ever get this close. His lips hovered just above your skin, his breath hitching as he fought the urge to sink his teeth into you.

“I should let you go,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, though his grip never loosened. His forehead pressed against yours, his icy eyes flickering with something dark, something primal. “But I don’t want to.”

His lips crashed into yours, hot and demanding, his kiss a desperate attempt to quell the fire raging inside him. His hands moved to your hips, lifting you effortlessly as he pinned you against the wall, his body grinding into yours with a need that was almost painful. His tail tightened around your leg, anchoring you to him as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, drawing a soft gasp from your throat.

“Mine,” he growled against your mouth, the word a possessive promise. His rut had stripped away every pretense, leaving only raw, unfiltered desire. And in that moment, you were his, completely, utterly, irrevocably his.

SUNOO (fox hybrid) :

Sunoo’s rut was a storm you hadn’t seen coming. His usual playful demeanor had shifted, the teasing glint in his golden eyes now smoldering with something far more intense. He was still himself, still the fox hybrid who loved to laugh and provoke, but there was a raw edge to him now, a hunger that simmered just beneath the surface.

That evening, you were sitting on the couch, trying to focus on the movie playing in the background, but Sunoo’s presence was impossible to ignore. He was draped over you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. His tail flicked lazily behind him, but the way his fingers traced idle patterns on your arm betrayed his restlessness.

“You smell different,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. His nose brushed against the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply, as if he were trying to memorize your scent. “Sweeter. Like… temptation.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening under his scrutiny. “Is that… bad?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunoo chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest and into yours. “Bad?” he repeated, his lips curling into a smirk. “No. It’s intoxicating.” His fingers slid up your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, before tangling in your hair. He tugged gently, tilting your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him.

His breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. His tail twitched behind him, betraying his growing impatience.

Before you could respond, his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His grip was firm, possessive, as if he were afraid you might slip away. His nose trailed down your neck, his lips following in its wake, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that made your breath hitch.

“Sunoo…” you breathed, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance.

“Hmm?” he hummed against your skin, his voice thick with desire. His hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. His tail wrapped around your leg, anchoring you to him as his lips found yours in a searing kiss.

It wasn’t like the playful pecks he usually gave you. This was deeper, hungrier, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed your body, mapping every curve as if he were trying to memorize you. His touch was electric, setting your nerves on fire with every brush of his fingers.

When he finally pulled back, his golden eyes were dark, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “I should behave,” he murmured, though the way his hands tightened on your hips said otherwise. His ears twitched, his tail flicking restlessly behind him as he struggled to maintain control.

“But you’re making it impossible,” he growled, his voice rough with need. His lips crashed into yours again, this time more urgent, more desperate. His hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers splaying across your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Sunoo’s rut had unleashed something primal in him, and as he pressed you into the couch, his body covering yours, you realized there was no turning back. The playful fox hybrid was gone, replaced by something wild, something hungry, and you were the only thing that could satisfy him.

JUNGWON (panther hybrid) :

Jungwon’s control was slipping, and it was only a matter of time before it shattered completely. The air between you was thick with tension, charged with something primal, something undeniable. His golden eyes, usually so calm and composed, now burned with an intensity that made your breath hitch. The faint growl in his chest was a warning, a promise, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

When you leaned in, unaware of the storm brewing inside him, his restraint snapped. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that was both commanding and possessive. You froze, his name escaping your lips in a breathless whisper, but he didn’t respond, not with words, at least. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unyielding, as if he was trying to decide whether to devour you or let you go.

“Jungwon?” you tried again, your voice trembling slightly, but he only pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours in a way that left no room for escape. His tail coiled around your waist, the tip brushing against your side in a slow, deliberate motion that made your heart race.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, almost a growl, each word dripping with a raw, unfiltered need. His thumb brushed over the sensitive skin of your wrist, his touch sending sparks of electricity through you. “Every time you’re near me, it’s like I’m losing my mind.”

His head dipped down, his nose grazing the curve of your neck as he inhaled deeply, his breath hot against your skin. A shiver ran through you, and you could feel the rumble in his chest as he let out a soft, almost feral growl. “Your scent,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “it’s everywhere. I can’t think. I can’t focus. All I can do is want you.”

His hand slid up your arm, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake, until his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back just enough for his lips to hover over yours. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling with the effort it took to hold himself back. But the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered, like he would do anything to have you, was enough to make your knees weak.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he whispered, his voice rough but laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closing for a moment as if he was trying to regain some semblance of control. But when his gaze met yours again, there was no mistaking the hunger in them, the need that was too strong to ignore.

“But I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” he admitted, his voice barely audible, his lips brushing against yours in a barely-there kiss that left you craving more. His tail tightened around you, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body trembled with the effort to keep himself in check.

“So tell me,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr, “what do you want me to do?”

NIKI (tiger hybrid) :

Ni-ki’s restraint was hanging by a thread. The moment you brushed past him, the air between you seemed to crackle with an electric tension. Your scent, sweet, intoxicating, and utterly irresistible, wrapped around him like a vice, pulling him closer despite his best efforts to resist.

He couldn’t help the low growl that rumbled in his chest, a primal sound that made your breath hitch. His golden eyes darkened, the usually playful glint replaced by something far more intense, far more dangerous. His tail lashed behind him, betraying the turmoil within.

“Ni-ki?” you asked, your voice soft but laced with uncertainty.

He didn’t answer, not at first. Instead, he closed the distance between you in a single, fluid motion, his hands slamming against the wall on either side of your head. The heat radiating from his body was almost unbearable, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts as he leaned in closer.

“You smell…,” he began, his voice rough, almost guttural. His nose brushed against the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply as if he could devour your scent. “Too good. It’s driving me insane.”

You tried to step back, but he was faster. His tail coiled around your thigh, pulling you flush against him. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back with every ounce of willpower he had left.

“Ni-ki, what’s going on?” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He let out a frustrated growl, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ve been trying to stay away, trying to keep control. But you… you’re making it impossible.”

His hands twitched against the wall, his claws unsheathing slightly as he fought to keep them in check. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with a mix of desire and desperation. His lips parted, and for a moment, it seemed like he might say something more, but instead, he leaned in again, his forehead resting against yours.

“I was trying to be good,” he admitted, his voice strained. “Trying to wait this out. But then you had to come in here, smelling like that, looking like that…”

His breath hitched, and his grip on the wall tightened, the plaster cracking slightly under the pressure. His tail tightened around your leg, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. His lips hovered just above yours, his warm breath mingling with yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me to walk away, and I will. But if you don’t…”

He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, a low, possessive growl escaped him, and he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that left no room for doubt about his intentions.

Word count : 3650 | serapharua, 2025.

[vargrblood]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ───── 연시은

IN WHICH falling in love with Yeon Sieun was imminent for you. Imminent in the same way as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.

3.4k+ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𔘓 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎gn! reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𔘓 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎event 𝑚-𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

based on req ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𔘓 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎scroll till the end for notes

I. Peach eyes and blue skies

Love is imminent.

Love is just imminent, you're bound to fall in love with someone sooner or later. Doesn't matter if it's today, tomorrow or the next day or the next next day— you're bound to fall in love with someone.

It is imminent in the same way as natural phenomena, just like how the winter is followed by spring, how the moon influences the tides and how every bud is meant to blossom into a beautiful flower.

It can happen in many ways. It might just be someone you've known for a long time and in a moment everything just shifts, you see them in a different light, in a way so different that it makes your heart pound so hard that it feels as if it is going to burst out of your ribcage and jump into their hands.

It can happen in a way that when you first lay your eyes on them you just know; that this is going to the person my world will revolve around, that this is going to be the person my heart beats for, that this is going to be the person that will plague my every waking thought & appear in my dreams, that this is going to be the person i love for the rest of my life.

It really does happen like that sometimes, that you know the person you just laid your eyes on will be the object of your affection for the foreseeable and unforeseeable future.

When you first laid your eyes on Yeon Sieun, you just knew.

It is a truth, like the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, that earth is the third planet from the sun and that universe is forever expanding till it ends.

It is the truth.

You are in love.

Your heart will chase him like the sun chases the moon or the moon chases the sun across the canvas of the beautiful sky over us all.

Your heart will chase him and beat for him.

Your heart will beat in such rhythms that will be impossible for you to ignore the loud vibrations that will soon drip into your compositions and creations.

The truth is; you are in love with the peach eyed boy.

II.

I'll be with you on your ride

The first time you meet Yeon Sieun, it is at the cultural centre Juntae and his friends are volunteering. You—Juntae’s sibling— were tasked by your mom to keep an eye on Juntae and see if his friends were any trouble.

The school had called after all, saying how Juntae had gotten into a fight near the school and the guys he had fought had not shown up at the school the next day. Which was funny because Juntae never fights.

Regardless.

The day you met him, you still remember so clearly because how could you forget?

The wind was a little chilly, the kind of chilly you enjoy when you are enveloped by the warmth of your favourite sweater. The kind of chilly, when the wind blows onto your face you feel like a weak leaf falling off the tree and dancing in the wind to the tune of nature.

The sky was blue, no clouds, just a calming presence on top of your heads as you went about your day. But, now that you look back, you think it was the same shade of blue that your wallpaper was in your childhood bedroom.

When you first walked into the room where Juntae and Sieun were, you were un-suspecting. You had walked towards Juntae, not minding his friend, after all you had no actual business with him. But when you had called out for your brother, he had turned too, and when you met his eyes the time had slowed down, sluggish in its movements around you and Sieun, time had slowed down. It was like being suspended in honey, sweet and sticky, slowly dripping down.

Sieun had looked like he had picked the most beautiful constellations in the entirety of the night sky, collected them by hand and put them in a bucket and later poured down the contents of the bucket in the pools of his eyes. The creases of his eyelids were beautiful too, though they were a little assymetrical.

For a second, you wonder if the boy in front of you feels the same thing you are feeling, did time stop for him too?

But does it matter if he feels the same?

You feel it. It is real for you. It is as real as the warmth of the sun you crave when the weather’s too cool, and it is as real as the tender flesh of the tangerines your mom peeled for you the day before.

It is real and it is love.

Love at first sight.

III.

It's on the moonlight

Artists are, well, strange creatures with the ability to make you feel things you've never experienced before, or have experienced before but are too scared to relive those moments or experiences you will never experience. But the bottom line is, artists are strange creatures of experience.

Experience is like drops of lemon juice on savoury food, something that's not a necessary ingredient to cook the food but something that enhances the experience of enjoying it.

That is what your teacher says. She says that you can always write and compose about things you might have not gone through, they might be beautiful, but the true glimmer always shines when you create a piece about something you've experienced deeply.

And now that you're finally in love, no matter what you play, there are hints of yearning.

When you play the violin, love loosens out and flows like drops of sap on a tree, it sticks onto the haunting and eerie crescendo and then with painfully slow movement, it's present in the drop that comes with the aching decrescendo.

When you play the piano, love blooms like the brightest flower that always catches your attention when you walk by its bush, it attaches itself onto the notes and glides through the air.

When you play the guitar, love coos like a cuckoo bird, the sound that you always hear when you need to, the sound that always catches your attention no matter what you're doing.

Your teacher catches onto it, she tells you to hold onto it, drown in the feeling so it sinks into your very being, so that it can be embossed into your creations.

To you, the love you've just started to feel is like a gentle caress of a mother on the face of her child after the child has fallen asleep.

It is the same faint touch of your birth mother you remember, the gentle yet warm parting hug.

It is also similar to the the firm touch of your father, not to hard, not to soft that one can mistake for a ghostly whisper.

It is also like the kiss your Mom—Ms. Seo— presses on to the top of your head, something that is meant to be felt, something that is proclaimed.

(There is a distinction between Mother and Mom.

Mother is the one who gave birth to you. Mother is the one who was with you for the first three years of your life.

Mom is Ms. Seo, the one who gave birth to Juntae. Mom is the one who was with you after the the first three years of your life.)

You somehow became a friend of Juntae’s friends, you don't go to the same school but they always invite you to hangout. That is how you ended up here; sitting in the basketball court, chatting with the guys about everything and nothing.

The amber lights shine down harshly on all of you, a colour that can be only found in Vivaldian music and for a moment you are taken aback when Sieun cracks a small smile at the antics of Juntae’s—now your—friends.

And it's the moment you saw him for the first time again, the time stopped like you were just mere beetles trapped in amber forever, you wish you were insects in amber and the time stopped on this moment forever.

That night you thought of his smile, beautiful smile, and thought:

Love is like the gentle moonlight.

IV.

How many songs I write

Your birth mother was a pianist, a talented one at that. People did know of her. One of your earliest memories is of her playing a melody on the keys of the piano, the same tune that she always sang for you to put you to sleep. A tender composition she created just for you, however, no matter how much you try to recreate it with your own hands, you simply cannot. She did not leave behind the manuscript for that specific song.

Mother had a knack for all things musical. The melody she had created just for you was very raw, it's still clear in your memory, raw like the tender flesh of a bruised heart. And the melody was light and gentle, like the sunlight that seeps into your skin during winter, light and warm enough to comfort you when the snow melts slowly. And you still remember the sickly sweetness of the melody, quite like a jar of freshly harvested honey, yellowish colour with tinges of orange like the setting sun.

Despite remembering it oh so clearly, you could never recreate it. It is there but also not.

But such is the pain of a musician, no matter how hard you try, you never capture the true essence of the actual piece in front of you, the river of time flows and smudges the colours of the intricate painting leaving you with only a faint membrane of what used to be.

Maybe that's why you chose to drown yourself in the same liquor as your Mother; music.

Maybe it was in your warm blood, the urge to just create something, to create art. Art is eternal, a river that passes yet remains, unlike your Mother. Art could never die and leave you.

Maybe it was to connect to your Mother. The child's instinct is always to look for the mother, after all. Maybe that's why you try to drown yourself in this cool river, maybe a ghost will pull you down to the depths of your mind and maybe then you will be able to finally recreate the lullaby your Mother sang you to sleep and played for you on the piano.

Deep within your mind, you are still looking for your Mother.

Looking back, you remember only three memories of your Mother.

First, where she tucks you to bed and kisses your nose and continues to hum the same lullaby. She never wrote it down on any sheets because she thought she would always be there to sing it for you.

Second, where she feeds you peaches with the softest of flesh, you can still taste them in your mouth and the way they melted and the way they had hints of sourness.

Third, where she hugs you for the last time. Her hair tickles your face as she pulls you in, she pats your back and you see her smile. And it is warm. Like the melody she always played for you.

You sigh as you fill in the notehead in front of you, scratching your pen until it's completely filled the same way your heart is filled yearning for the peach-eyed boy.

“You okay? You've been sighing a lot.” Your seat partner asks you.

“Mhm. Just thinking about him.” You answer slowly, your words roll out in a dreamy drawl, like your attention is elsewhere in the prettiest gardens of paradise.

“Him who?”

“My muse.” You say, with your eyes still focused on the sheet on your desk. The eyebrows of your partner quirk up, this is some new gossip topic. “His name has three syllables. You know what else has three syllables? ‘I love you.’”

Your seat partner looks at you strangely.

You seem to have forgotten that most Korean names are composed of three syllables. But it's still the most poetic thing to you.

You pay your seatmate no mind as you continue to fill in the staves with the dripping emotions that have latched onto your mind. Your hand reaches up to touch your sternum through your uniform to feel the quickening rhythm of your tender heart.

V.

You'll be my sunlight

“So, are you going to tell him?” Juntae says with a soft voice, like he's treading into a territory he's not meant to, he slowly crunches leaves that have fallen down.

The weather has gone chillier, in a way that makes wisps of fog appear when you speak.

“Tell who what?” You say dumbly. You do have inkling of what your dear brother means but you're not ready to accept that he took notice of what he might say next.

“Sieun. About your feelings.” Of course he knows. This sneaky bastard. When you turn to face him finally, there's a slight smirk on his face. Was your crush so obvious?

“I don't know, man.” You sigh. You've never imagined taking your crush to that level and confessing, you cannot imagine Sieun being your boyfriend, he's better off as a muse. You kick a pebble away.

He's a sweet boy though, Yeon Sieun, he always listens to you ramble when others lose focus because of their lack of musical knowledge.

He also listens to the songs you recommend, he likes them sometimes, sometimes they're not his taste. But at least he's honest enough to accept when he likes something and when he doesn't.

He doesn't talk much, but when he speaks, he says what he means and what he wants to. This is something you admire about him.

“Mhm.” Juntae hums as he sees you get lost in your thoughts again, the smirk doesn't leave his feature though. If you can't tell Sieun about your feelings, he sure can.

𓂃

In the sky, pinks meet the orange, a soft colour is conceived, a colour that looks like peach soda. You're sitting next to Sieun. Juntae, Baku and Gotak are still playing basketball, they seem to have better stamina than Sieun.

You lose your focus, the world blurs a little, you're too deep in your thoughts, riveting in the notes ringing in your head. You've been practicing a lot, recently. Perfecting the composition you came up with, your fingers and shoulder have gone tired with the countless hours you've been pouring into your craft.

There is a certain joy that comes with perfection. When you can move people with the music that you create, you reach a state of euphoria and the hard work you put on yourself finally feels worth it.

As the music in your head slowly dissipates as it comes towards the end, you turn to look at Sieun, who is drinking water. The way his Adam's apple bobs with every gulp has you entranced, but you soon realise that you might be looking like a weirdo so you turn away.

Sieun puts the water bottle away.

Well, it's now or never, right?

With your heart beating like a wild beast that was chained inside a cage of bones, you finally gather courage.

“Sieun-ah.” You start. A crow caws in the distance and the sneakers against the ground screech.

When he turns to look at you, you're taken back to the moment where the yellowish lights of the outside court had you feeling like insects swimming in pools of honey, the moment where you wished time stopped forever because of the twinkle of Sieun’s eyes.

“Has anyone told you before that you have pretty eyes?”

You don't know if it's the sky that is casting down pinkish hues on Sieun or if he's actually blushing.

𓂃

You let out a soft sigh as you sit on the sofa, tired from a long day of practicing violin. You even have dreams of playing the specific composition, the one you've titled ‘Peach eyes’.

Your Mom pulls you close to her into a side hug. She pats you slowly, her touch is gentle and soothing.

“Don’t stress yourself too much. I know you'll do great, my child.” She speaks brightly, her words filled with nothing but love.

“Thank you. I love you.” And with that you sink yourself deeper into her embrace.

VI.

How could I not rely

On you, peach eyes?

The silence is broken by the sound of bow meeting the strings, the first touch is always gentle like a lover's kiss, it always starts slowly and builds momentum. The notes flow endlessly and beautifully into the air, with a certain warmth that comes with love.

At first, it is like rich cashmere being undone, thread by thread, slowly and painfully unravelled, something akin to accepting that you are in love and the fear that comes with it. When you accept you are in love, you're baring your soul. The sound that comes with each friction of bow and violin slowly dissolves the tension built up in the pit of your stomach. The sound is now like a knife cutting through flesh, thorough and sharp and easy. There is a sting in it, the kind felt by snow when the sun shines its rays on it harshly to melt it away, with that the fear in your mind melts away slowly too.

The unraveling is firm yet gentle, the touch is soft like water that envelopes your feet at the beach but it's firm, like the hardened bark of a tree. It feels like a lover undoing your being, slowly exposing your secrets to themselves and loving you despite.

The song builds up, it's now haunting like whispers of the past, something you can see on the back of your eyelids when you close them but something that fades away when you try to reach out for it.

The audience is completely trapped into the hypnotising performance you're putting, they're stuck in a trance like bugs caught up in sticky-trap.

There is pain in longing and you captured it perfectly in your music sheets and you've now turned it into music, the music that reverberates through your upper body, the music you made is being fed on by your heart.

The song is now turning like a tide, at first it was like expensive cloth being unstitched but now, it feels as though the seams are being sewn together again, this time better than they were before. Each note is like a torrent of brushstrokes on a canvas, each stroke building up to a precise picture.

You're pouring out every single emotion you've felt for the peach-eyed boy into this performance. Each note you play feels like a breath that brings you back to life. It now feels like a faint touch of moonlight on skin.

When you finish the melodies still linger in the air, like the whistling wind on a stormy day. The audience is quiet for a short moment, taking in the opus they just experienced but they soon break into applause.

Afterwards, you meet up with your friends after your violin solo ends. Juntae had invited his friends too, and they're all drowning you in praises. You try not to pay attention to the person that your solo was dedicated to, instead you chat with your friends as you lead them back to the hall for the next performance.

You're left alone outside the theatre hall, and you breathe out a sigh of satisfaction. You decide to go back to the artist’s lounge to pack up your things and just as you turn, Sieun appears, holding a bouquet of roses.

“You seem to be avoiding me.” He speaks with a matter-of-fact tone.

You look around and then point at yourself.

“Me? Haha, never.”

Sieun doesn't say anything else, and for a second, silence settles over both of you. You finally look into the eyes you were avoiding the entire evening, and now, you are in a trance. Like a snake being charmed by a snake charmer, you are charmed by the boy in front of you. You look into his eyes and they look soft and filled with stars like always.

Sieun hands you the bouquet, and his fingers brush against yours, you take in the rich peach and white coloured flowers to your view to ignore the loud beating of your heart and the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“The performance was beautiful.” He states.

But you are more beautiful; you want to say.

And a whisper of a smile appears on Sieun’s face.

Maybe, falling in love with you was imminent for Yeon Sieun too.

𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎( ‎whc masterlist )

woohoo! 3.4k words, that was a long ride, i hope you enjoyed! likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated.

if it wasn't clear; y/n is a music student who is juntae's step-sibling. y/n's father remarried juntae's mom! y/n's birth mother was a pianist who passed away. y/n can play three instruments—piano, violin & acoustic guitar. the final scene was them performing a violin solo they composed.

taglist. ( join it here )

@mariii-0001 @gacktsa @haitani-22 @pavitrata @yujiswave @svtf1lms @sadesutopia

୨୧ asks are open, feel free to hop in to request something (not for this event) or just talk! read more about requests here !

[cod-indulgences]

Nikolai x female!reader, omegaverse, omega reader, alpha Nikolai, heat, nesting, lots and lots of sex, oral, fingering, breeding kink, LONG FIC 4.7k words

Thank you my beloveds in the discord for encouraging this monster @gazstations @vinnierobot748 @lialucis

now on AO3!

You escaped notice, mostly. It was your job- you were a floater, assigned whatever task was necessary but not worth the time of the actual, important people. You coordinate schedules, take stacks of files to be digitized and others to be shredded, run between meetings with updates and sign off for deliveries of things you don't want to know about. A secretary without the sex appeal, you joke to yourself, and put your head down and request your heat time off in advance.

When it comes, you swallow the lump in your throat and wave bye to the handful of people you talk to, and go back to your room with a heavy step. Alone, locked doors and a nest made of your regular blankets and pillows, a couple toys to help the ache. Your head fucking kills, and you curse at yourself for not prepping enough- but there were three different fires to put out this week, one literal, and so you couldn't eat and couldn't rest and haven't been able to even think ahead for anything.

There's someone leaning on your door, and your steps slow. You know him by reputation only, the sort of man who appears and disappears as needed, and not on anything official. He looks like he's made himself comfy, and you scowl at him when pain spikes behind your eye, wanting to just get past and lie down and sleep the heat away.

He doesn't move though, staying right there to block your way, and his scent is heavy in the air- something dark and cool- and his frown lines deepen when he moves his sunglasses up on his head. You don't say anything, waiting for him to break the silence.

"Sweet omegas need to be taken care of, not care for everyone else," he says finally. "I see you running around like a chicken. Come, you can spend that heat with me." He pushes off your door and reaches for you, frowning again when you yank your arm back.

"A chicken-!" You sputter, before realizing that's not the main point. "How do you know I'm in heat? Or who I am?" That's not quite it either, dammit. "Who are you?"

He grins, unashamed, and this time his hand makes contact with your arm, tucks into your elbow and draws you in closer. You can't help but feel the warmth of his skin, the almost refreshing scent in your nose. You know you're all over the place right now, stressed and tired and aching, a pain in your head and a warmth in your belly. You just want a break.

"I am Nikolai, call me Nik," he says, and lifts your hand to kiss it. "And I know you keep this shit hole running smooth and no one sees it. No one notices you, do they? I do." Tears spring into your eyes, and you gulp them back. He kisses your wrist this time, the thin skin inside, where your pulse beats. "Come with me, sweet, let me help you. I can take care of you."

Your head hurts and behind you is paperwork and stress. Your door leads you to a flat mattress and small comforts you got for yourself.

Nik smells strong and soothing, you think about old growth forests and rain clouds. It's probably a stupid decision, but he's gone right to your heart with a couple sentences. Why the fuck not?

You step into his space, and lay your head on his shoulder, scenting him properly. Your neck arches, and his lips touch your skin as he does the same, breathing you in.

"Poor sweet thing," he purrs, "you're in good hands, now," and tugs your arm to follow him away from your room.

-

Nik drives with one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh- patting up and down over your clothes, not groping like you half expected- just soothing over your flesh until it's so normal you forget about it. There's a paper bag between your feet with little snacks in it- fruit and honey bars, some spicy jerky, a cup of something juicy and rich. You dive through them eagerly, hungry, and catch Nik grinning when you moan a little in delight.

It's probably a bit much, but you can't help feeling better, some old instinct being soothed down as you ride away from the base. Your head still hurts, but the empty stomach at least has eased off by the time he pulls up to an honest-to-god log cabin, half buried in trees that look impossibly big to your view out the window.

You step out of the vehicle, looking around, and jump when Nik catches you up in his arms.

"What," you start, and then all your tension floods out as he tucks his chin over your shoulder and purrs.

It's deep and rumbling and soft, vibrating into your chest, and you sag in his hold, gasping. You've never had this, never had a purr just for you, and Nik cups the back of your head with his big hand. "Easy, sweet," he says, and kisses your throat. There's a burst of heat like fire in your belly. "Come inside, all is ready. I have you, I will take care of you, come," and he scoops you up off your feet.

The inside of the cabin is cool and dark, curtains half drawn, the corner of the single room dominated by a huge bed. It's carved top to bottom, thick curtains hanging down over it, the open side showing you what you register immediately as a nest- thick quilts, pillows, actual fucking furs- is this guy for real?

You whine a little as Nik sets you on your feet and begins unbuttoning your shirt. Your head is swimming, and you stumble out of your shoes- bed, bed, that nice heavy soft bed- and crawl into it mostly naked. If you were at home, your little room, you'd be in old soft shorts, thick socks, but nothing sounds better than feeling that rich softness on your bare skin right now.

Fucking heat.

Nik laughs a little behind you, easy, and tugs your pants off the rest of the way. "Rest, omega," he says, and tucks your hair behind your ear as you wrap a thick blanket over your shoulders. He draws another up, and all but buries you into the bed.

Your smile is soft and shaky up at him, feeling caught off guard and vulnerable, worried about being too much and also still not enough. His hand on your forehead strokes down, makes your eyes close. He doesn't do anything else, just picks up your clothes from the floor and steps away, and you slide into a sleep deeper and more restful than you've had in- ever.

-

You wake up to heat, to liquid warmth in your belly and between your legs. There's someone strong and hairy against you, muscles flexing as he moves, and you come with a wavering moan as you remember Nik.

His fingers slip from inside you, and there's a wet sucking sound. He's licking them. You can't see, it's fully dark and the curtains boxing in the bed are thick. The blankets on you are suffocating, suddenly, and you push them away.

"Nik?" Your voice is soft, muffled under the layers of dark and fabric. You can smell yourself, hot, nearly steaming with it, all the rich layers of omega scent overwhelming, and moan in relief when you find Nik in the dark and breathe into his neck, the cool breeze of him calming your fever. The purr in his chest keeps rumbling for you, a pleased alpha.

"Here, sweet, right here- so good for me, you taste so good. So wet." His fingers trail down the side of your cheek, sticky, until they find your mouth; you open and suck for him, tasting yourself. He groans against you. "Eat a little more for me?"

You don't know how he does it, you can't see an inch, but his other hand meets your lips, holding some little morsel. You leave his wet hand for this one, and bite into meat- something warm and dense, spice on your tongue, and moan aloud as Nik feeds you another even as his fingers slip between your legs again.

You feel swollen and achy, pulse pounding in your clit, and he circles it gently. You're so slick for him, he can just slide right into you, and he tells you this as you swallow the food. Your whole body aches, limbs trembling, as the alpha provides you with- good, rich food; a warm nest; a body to writhe against and take pleasure from. You want to cry, because it's so good and so perfect, his scent and purr going to your head like liquor.

Nik kisses down your face, scenting against your throat, and shifts so you can feel his cock against your leg. He's so hard, thick and wet at the tip, and you find your hands exploring down his body to it. He's stocky, chest hair soft under your palms, trailing down his belly to his groin, his thighs. His cock jumps when you stroke it, and you yelp as his teeth suddenly bite into your shoulder.

"Sorry," he pants, and you realize with a bolt of lust that he wanted to bite your throat, had to stop himself, that he wanted you.

"Please," you gasp, "yes, do it, bite me-!" Nik groans, almost snarling, and licks up your neck, under your jaw.

You come again, clamping down on his fingers, and and shove at Nik to make him move over, letting you roll onto your belly.

"Alpha," you plead, and lift your hips, "Nik, please, please," and your thighs spread open, your hand spreading open your folds so he can just slide in, take you, please just fucking- get inside, need it, the heat and the coiling pressure in your belly, the forest in his scent and the warmth of his body, the strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you in place as he finally, finally, spears you onto his cock.

You moan and shake when he bottoms out, full and stretched open. Nik groans, a hand fumbling up your side until he can get his hand into your hair and wrench your head to the side, burying his face into your throat, puffing hot breath over your skin. He sucks hard as he thrusts, wet smacks between your bodies, and you clamp down on his cock. He's sucking and licking at your throat, scent blooming up off you, and he drags in a deep breath and moans. He's so good, heavy and strong, and you feel the ache settle into something deeper between your legs. This is what you needed, a cock in your pussy to fill you up, thick thighs bouncing off yours, alpha scent in your nose as you moan and squirm for him, his big hands squeezing at your thighs, arms, breasts.

Nik gently pinches your nipples, tugging a little, making you gasp. In heat, you think of them leaking milk, heavy and full for the swollen belly he's going to give you, and plead for more until he's grunting into your ear and getting both hands on your tits, groping harder as your pussy squeezes his cock.

You lose your words, just sinking into the heat and sensations- soft furs under your knees, alpha inside you, hands and skin and sweat all rippling together. You clasp one of his hands with yours, twining your fingers, and he leaves your throbbing nipples alone long enough to grip your jaw and turn your face to his, kissing you messily.

He speeds up, hips smacking into your ass, and your arms give out as you feel his cock swelling. You moan wildly, letting Nik grab your ass and thighs, thumbs digging into your flesh as he pants. Your pussy clings to his cock as his knot swells, tugging at it every time it pops in and out, making your back arch, toes curling. You're so close, and Nik bends over you, forcing your ass up higher, your face pressed into the furs.

Nik shoves a hand under your belly and rubs furiously over your clit, and you feel his knot swell and lock into you as you come, gushing over him, limbs all quivering as your belly tightens and releases, flexing, the throb of your pussy milking him as he groans and falls over you.

His teeth sink into the side of your throat, sharp, finally, and you come with another slick gush, his knot so deep and full you can't get anything out around it- plugged up so well not even your own come can leak out- he moans and his cock twitches inside you, coming in spurts, filling you up full.

The heat takes over you fully now- you're an omega under your alpha, taken, knotted and held in place to be pumped full. Your pussy squeezes with each twitch of his cock, milking his knot, and your alpha groans and rumbles and purrs, steady and strong, letting you take everything you need from him.

-

The heat-haze stays over your mind longer than usual. You doze on Nik until his knot releases, and orgasm as his tongue licks his own come out of your pussy, crying for the pleasure and the need to keep it inside, too empty!

Nik's a good alpha though, he plugs you back up after he's done, fitting his cock back into you as your clit is stroked gently, soft as silk after he sucked it so much. You splay on top of him this time, legs open over his thighs, and he takes your weight easily, stroking over your pussy where it's stretched open around his knot. His fingers play with your folds the same way his tongue flicks along your ear, until you're coming again for him, his knot throbbing as he fills you more.

The next time is face to face- you lift your legs up, knees as high as they can go, to let Nik get your body in place, pressed down, pinned. He can't reach your clit like this, but you don't mind. Instead he sucks your nipples, squeezes your breasts and leaves over them with his tongue as you pant and whine.

"настолько мягкие, что наполните их молоком*," he moans, and you don't understand but he lifts both your breasts up together, pressing the flesh in tightly, and bites your nipples. You keen at that, attempting to thrash even as his weight holds you down, the sticky mess between your thighs getting hotter and wetter again. He keeps alternating them, biting and sucking until your nipples feel swollen and hot, until the flick of his tongue makes you moan and clench around his knot.

Your heat has a strangle hold on you- all you want is a knot, and between fucking Nik has to coax you to eat, feeding you more bites of meat with his fingers, petting your tongue when you swallow for him, sips of cool water poured down your throat. It's never been like this before- you could think, prepare, fuck yourself on some knotted dildos and snack on whatever you set next to your bed- Nik drizzles honey on your lips and licks it off, bounces you in his lap and drapes both your bodies in the furs and blankets.

Light spills through the gaps in the curtains, pale and thin, then brighter, golden. You stretch and roll into Nik as he purrs, kissing you as you open your legs for him again. He slides into you easily, so wet and worked open that it's nothing at all to stretch for him, and the day slips past in flashes of light on his skin, highlighting the curve of his shoulders, the sweat on his forehead, the way shadows dance across your belly as you come again, crying out, so sensitive you're sore- or so sore it's sensitive, pussy and clit all a warm, swollen mess, nipples aching.

You roll over, presenting with your hips up and chest flat to the bed, sweat dripping down your spine. Nik purrs at you, pleased with his omega, and you moan and arch further. His hands span your ass, lifting and bouncing your cheeks, and when his thumb rubs over your asshole you whine, clenching as he slips it inside, gently fucking you just a little while his knot settles into your cunt. Each push inside makes you clench, milks his cock, and you whimper into the pillows as he adds a finger, another- so tight where your cunt is so stretched out, your own slick and his come smeared into a thick lube that he shoves into you.

You think about his cock in that hole instead, knot bulging in your guts, as you beg for it to be fucked into the right hole, and come as he fingers your ass, Russian words dripping from his lips.

The orgasms pulse through you. Nik is as sweaty and wrecked as you are, moaning with you each time his knot fills and releases, using his fingers and tongue to drive you insane every time. You gasp for breath, shaking, sucking food and water from Nik's hands with big, soft eyes. The alpha tucks your hair back, kisses your lips, cradles you down in the nest as you cool off a little. Thoughts begin to slip back in, and you notice the bags of food and bottles of water tucked into a shelf built into the bedframe out of the way. The next time Nik brings you a bite, you reach for another and press it to his lips instead.

He holds your eyes as he takes it, teeth scraping your fingertips, and you swallow hard. He lets you give him some water too, and you pass the bottle back and forth. Cool droplets fall from your wrist when it spills a little, shaky hands, and Nik licks it up.

His tongue follows your wrist down, and your pussy pulses as he licks the crease of your elbow, jumps over to your breast to lick your nipple again. "Nik," you moan, surprising yourself, the only word you've had has been alpha for- hours? Days?

He hums around your nipple, the lines around his eyes creasing in a smile as he flicks it with his tongue, making you whine.

"Nik- again, please," you beg, and he groans and buries his face into your breasts.

"Killing me, sweet," he says, and lifts your hips up to meet his. His cock is still heavy and hard, leaking steadily, and you reach down to caress the half-blown knot as he pushes into you. "So good, letting me have you- taking me so well- let me hear you again, omega," and he shifts his weight and just fucks you, hard and sharp, making you moan on each thrust. You're too sensitive for such a harsh fucking, but it's too good to stop, all the heat building up into another orgasm too quickly, almost painful. Your pussy hurts, soaked and swollen, and you feel tears slip down to your temples as your body takes it again.

Nik groans, mouthing at your breast, until you lift his face up to yours. You kiss him, sucking on his tongue as his hips gentle, slowing, and fumble blindly for another bottle of water. He pants as you tip it to his mouth, spilling it between your bodies, and he follows the trail down your throat, where the side of your neck is marked up purple and pink, swollen, stinging as the cool water drips over your skin.

You finish the bottle yourself and find instead of orgasm, your body is settling down at last- you stay soft and open, Nik's knot bumping against your hole as he works it inside, teasing your pussy with it until it swells up, locks in. You whine and let him bite you again, clenching down, feeling the ache catch and release, release, limbs all going liquid and falling down as Nik spurts a little come into you- just enough to feel the twitch of his cock before he settles his weight down, your hips splayed open, warm and wet for him to rest inside.

The light has shifted again, going dim, and you doze off and on. Nik has shuffled you to your side, still locked together, and is nuzzling your cheeks and nose with his. You play with his hair, coiling the dark strands around your fingers as he falls asleep himself, the low snore vibrating through him like a purr. Everything feels liminal, outside of time- just the nest, soaked in sweat and come, a hidden space away from everything else. The cabin itself creaks in the wind, the forest noises quiet for the night.

You fix your teeth into Nik's throat and bite, laving your tongue over his skin, sucking as he rouses up, moaning, his hand coming around the back of your head to hold you in place as you mark him, taking him, his knot finally easing out, deflating fully, still joined to your cunt with the thick web of come and slick smeared between you.

-

The morning sun slices through the curtains right across your eyes where you're sprawled over Nik, a quilt hanging off you, rising and falling with his chest as he snores.

You have to pee so fucking bad.

You stagger off the bed, legs wobbling, and manage to make it to the narrow door of what you pray is a bathroom. You're successful, and not even the absolute life ruining heat you just had compares to the simple relief of peeing for the first time in- what, two days? Three?

Back to the bed is another feat of strength, and you drop into the pile of pillows and furs gratefully. There's a pounding ache between your legs, your back hurts, you're monstrously thirsty again. Nik is no better off, his hair matted with sweat and his cock soft and bruised looking, a muscle jumping in his thigh even asleep.

You press your lips to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He still smells good, still that old-forest-dark-clouds, under the new layer of sweat and sex. More kisses up his pecs, across his collarbone, until you can gently lick at the purplish bite mark decorating the smooth skin under his ear, right where you can scent him the strongest.

He rumbles a little, waking up, and you smile up at him as he turns his head to you, taking a soft kiss from your mouth. "Morning, sweet," he says, and kisses you again.

You half expect him to start shooing you out the door as soon as it was clear the heat had finally released you, but instead he keeps going- he feeds you breakfast, bites of the same fruit and honey, thick bread spread with butter. You hum in delight- it's delicious- and he blushes, telling you almost shyly about learning family recipes, ones from his grandparents days, made for nesting omegas. The bread is thick and strong, packed with herbs, and your praise makes him blush even more, which is too cute for a man of his size and strength.

You nap, Nik snoring into your ear, and when he wakes you the sunlight spilling through the windows is fading. The little bathroom- it looks tacked on, and you wouldn't be surprised if this place was built when outhouses and chamberpots were standard- sputters warm water, and Nik even joins you in the shower.

His body feels amazing under your hands, his scent mixing in the air with the plain soap. You use your hands to scrub him down, stroking over his arms and legs, and he moans and swears when you kneel down for him, kissing along his cock as you soap up the tender skin around his balls, behind them.

His knot stays down, but you suck him anyway, eager to give him a little more pleasure when he did so much for you. His cock is sensitive, and you treat it gently, conscious of the way your pussy clenches each time he moans, the taste of his precome on your tongue. He rubs his fingers along your cheeks when they hollow out, pressing in, and you blink the water out of your eyes and look up at him, watching his face as he groans and comes for you. There's not much of it- you're surprised he has anything left in him- and you smooth your tongue along along the underside as his hips pump forward into your mouth, letting him go only when he whines, overstimulated.

Your own fingers slip across your clit, barely touching, but still enough to make your eyes roll back as over-sensitive nerves spark and catch, the little quivering orgasm pulsing through you. Warm water slides off your back, over your legs, as you sigh and lean against Nik's legs, feeling him petting the wet strands of your hair. He even coaxes another flutter from you, rubbing soapy fingers across the folds of your pussy, one teasing your asshole again- without heat clouding your mind, it feels dirtier somehow, and he grins when you squirm and hide your face, trying not to think about how your hips work back onto his hand.

Your clothes are stacked neatly on a chair, and feel strange on your body after the luscious nakedness in the bed, Nik's hands as he cleaned you up in the shower after. Nik doesn't seem in any hurry to move things along, you get the feeling he'd be happy staying here another day or three, but you have a job waiting for you.

You gently push forward the idea of leaving, going back to the base and home- though thinking of your room as home feels strange now too- and Nik just kisses you again. He loves doing it, you've learned, taking any chance to kiss your hand, your lips or cheek, nuzzle up under your jaw and along your throat.

"I know, sweet, time to go back," he grumbles, and you help him strip the bed- a huge bag is filled with the sheets and quilts, the furs stacked up in a pile he carries to the truck still waiting outside. You ask him about paying for the laundry and he just laughs.

"Laundry? Sweet, I will be sleeping in the scent of you just as they are," he insists, which is thrilling and a little gross. You help him load back up through, packing in all the left over water, snacks, the small loaves of bread wrapped in paper and carefully placed where they won't be crushed.

You pick the music on the way back, your head no longer spinning and able to appreciate the drive, the forest as it speeds past, and realize you're laughing in joy- when you glance over Nik is grinning back at you.

The base seems quieter, less overwhelming, when Nik drops you off at your door. You hesitate with the key in the lock. It feels wrong to walk away from him- you've spent the last few days in this fog of desire and need, that he so perfectly carried you through- but what can you say? What can you do? How do you move forward with someone when you don't know their last name, barely met them, but they made such a mark on your life? Maybe you should just tell him thanks? Ask for a date? Does he even want to date you?

A soft, deep brown fur lands around your shoulders like a shawl, stopping the spiraling thoughts. You breathe in and smell Nik, cool and dark, mixed in with yourself- something like sunlight breaking through the leaves. Peace and comfort.

You breathe in deeply, and Nik's hand cups your cheek. "I'll see you soon, милый**," and kisses your lips before he winks at you and just- leaves, whistling, a spring in his step that wasn't there before- you're pretty sure. The bag with the loaves of bread, the small snacks that he fed you through the heat, is at your feet.

Your smile could light up the hallway on its own. Food, soft materials for your nest that smell of him. A promise to see you soon.

You'll need to get a Russian dictionary- he might be taking care of you, but there's a few things you can think of to give him as well.

*so soft, make them full of milk

**sweet (endearment)

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, NOT Feelings! Ch. 7

Ch. 6 | Ch. 8

Series masterlist here | regular masterlist here

Synopsis: You decide to take the day off to reflect on your mixed emotions while Light take the opportunity to do a big of digging on your history. Tired with your obvious attempts at avoiding him, Ryuzaki also takes matters into his own hands.

Tags: Light is a rat, slight insecurity mentions, Light POV, ex boyfriend appearance, mentions of PMS, L is a little creepy LMAO, references to makeout and steamy previous activities, suggestive ending, french kiss, dry humping, mentions of erections, hickies, jealously, slightly angst if you squint, MDNI, 18+

word count: 10.4k

a/n at the end!

~~~~~~~

The storm from the previous night has died into a steady rain that pats against the glass panes of your bedroom window and a steady breeze creates a swirl of leaves in the air. Rolling to the other side of your bed, you tug the warm comforter up to your chin and sigh, silently cursing your inability to fall back asleep.

Your alarm clock next to the bed reads 7:13am and despite your first scheduled class not until 10, your body seems unable to relax again. Though the time of your lecture doesn’t matter much, you’ve already decided to skip and take the day off from…everything. 

When you first woke up unexpectedly, you contemplated the decision for a few moments before texting a friend in the class that you would not be in attendance. Usually you wouldn’t skip a seminar, but it's the first week of the ‘summer’ campus [despite it technically being spring] and that means it’s nothing but syllabus reviews. 

Thick rain clouds make the morning hours seem like night, and with every light in your small one-bedroom apartment being off, your body seems wired to stay awake against your will. Maybe it’s the long hours of being on the task force, the week of examinations and finals you’ve just finished before beginning another period of classes, or maybe it’s the fact your emotions seem to be on the fray. 

You still promised to meet with Light before the meeting, though you’re unsure if you have the motivation to even show your face to the rest of the group given everything from last night. Ugh. and you kissed him– like… kissed him-kissed him. 

“Aughfp–”

You groan and roll over into the pillow, letting out a slew of incoherent curses as the second hand embarrassment of the moment lingers. WHY did you kiss him? And then on his lap– you tug a hand into your hair and thrash a bit more as a mixture of mortification and self resentment leave you wanting nothing more than to suffocate into the soft cushion of feathers beneath your mouth.

Dying by self-asphyxiation from your own ick would be a death not even Kira could conjure up as your untimely demise. A small dull ache in your lower abdomen pulls your thoughts back to your present state and you roll back over onto your back and stare at the ceiling. 

He’s just a guy… nothing more and nothing less. You’ve been without any action for a while now, so that’s the reason you’re acting like this… yea…

You sigh a little, slightly relieved as you attempt to rationalize the behavior, until the reminder that he’s very much your boss and also fake dating you for the grand scheme of stopping a serial killer creates another wave of agitation.

God, of all the people you had to have the pleasure doing this stupid situationship with, it just had to be him. Ryuzaki may be completely inexperienced in everything for all you know, and on top of that, he didn’t let you go to Aoyama, got in argument with you over it, had Matsuda then Mogi take over trailing Light, and then didn’t even tell you about Mogi’s findings until AFTER something happened. He’s never been 100% honest with anyone, including you, so if someone were to ask if you would still kiss him again… why in your right mind is your gut answer yes?!

“Maybe Kira has already decided on my death and is making me the most irrational and unlucky person in the universe before I die…” You mumble and turn back over to snuggle into the comforter again. 

You’ve asked the universe for too much– wasting all your wishes on stupid exams and concert tickets instead of wishing to meet just one guy in your life who isn’t emotionally constipated. Though realistically speaking, shouldn’t Ryuzaki be feeling the same way as you right now?

Even if the whole relationship was purely platonic and for the good nature of protecting you from the Second Kira, there’s no way he would’ve wanted to go that far behind closed doors if it didn’t mean something more. Kissing him with your hands in his hair, grinding your hips on his erection, sturdy hands on your belt loops keeping you in place… the memory of it makes your cheeks flush.

Though there’s also the second option, that he’s enjoying this weird charade you two are playing because of physical relief. The entire task force is men and the last female agent L worked with got engaged and then was subsequently killed by Kira, so it’s not like the odds are in your favor that he’s looking for something that can last.

Tumbling back over and whining into the pillow, you silently wonder if you should’ve just changed life trajectories and lived a more mundane life. You could’ve moved to the countryside, become a post office worker, and spent your days exploring nature… instead you’re a full time student and employee with a group of men, working insane hours, your friend might be a serial killer who is convinced they’re on par with God, and your most recent physical encounter was with an emo man who is pretending(?) to date you. 

This really is the worst, huh?

Before you can attempt to bury your face into the pillow once more, a ping from your phone on the nightstand pulls your attention and you crinkle your nose at the interruption of your existential crisis. You reach over and grab your normal cell phone and tug it back into your cocoon of self pity and fuzzy blankets.

From: Light Yagami

Hey! Are we still on for the meeting review at 1? There’s a coffee shop I’m sending now that has lunch sets too.

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You read the message over a few times and look up the address before sending a basic approval text and tossing the phone somewhere between the layers of fabric on your bed. Technically speaking, if you commit to this ‘day off’ and call out of the evening meeting for a mental health day, then you really should take the time to try and relax.

There’s a long list of things you’ve been meaning to get done anyways, the new art exhibit across town, get hot tea at a local coffee shop and read your book next to the window, or even try your hand at knitting; the list is so long that trying to relax seems to make you even more anxious. 

After a few more moments of self-pity, you peel the comforter from your body and sluggishly decide to get up and move. Knees cracking at the movement and slight shivers from the change in temperature, you pad into the bathroom to take a quick shower and attempt to reign yourself in.

Hot water and steam relax your muscles, and after completing your usual skincare routine and getting dressed into a casual jeans and t-shirt, you notice the missing university crewneck in your closet.

Must’ve left it at the hotel…

Whatever, you can get it tomorrow– you’re 98% convinced that you will simply be skipping the meeting tonight anyways. Sliding on an old hoodie instead, you finally begin to flick on the lights of your apartment and make your way to the kitchen to start some hot water. 

Even if you can’t relax, you should at least get something done today. You make a small mug of instant coffee and slide into one of the two seats at your small kitchen table before opening the lid of your laptop and searching for Misa’s social media page once again. 

At first glance all of the posts are relatively normal; flyers for upcoming movies, magazine photo shoots, and cute outfit inspiration given her gothic fashion taste. Pursing your lips and filtering through a bit more, you double take at the photos of cafe desserts and beverages.

Scanning through the images, you do a quick timeline comparison and notice that for a majority of the new posts of food items, there are two spoons and forks on the plate. One is obviously hers, but the other setting was placed by the wait staff for her company despite the lack of usage in most of the images. 

Clicking through a few more, you notice it’s the same with shared drinks like milkshakes– one straw bent with a lipstick stain, and the other completely untouched. These details are only noticeable for the past few weeks as well…

Biting your lip, you reach for your mug of coffee and blow the steam away before taking a long sip to fully digest the information. It’s not concrete proof of anything, and with no image of her company, you can’t be certain it’s Light– but the discovery is enough to raise an eyebrow.

Putting the mug back on the table, you grasp your actual cell phone and haphazardly scroll through the contacts list while continuing to glance at the laptop screen. Realistically, you should've checked twice before typing out the message, but with indescribable brain fog you don’t notice the romanized alphabet placing ‘L’ and ‘Light’ side by side in your contacts list.

You’ve never even texted L on this phone, but it made sense to have his contact available just in case you happened to misplace the one he gave you upon meeting him for the first time a few months back. 

Still paying half-attention, you send ‘I need to see you’ without ever confirming the recipient. 

Light POV

“Oooo! And there’s a new boutique that just opened up across the street! Let’s go there after our dinner date?” Misa wonders while laying flat on Light’s bed and kicking her feet upwards behind her in a swinging motion.

Ryuk chuckles and peers over at the magazine splayed in front of her while Rem idly stands in the doorway with a scowl plastered as she watches Light at his desk. Eyebrow twitching from the lack of concentration, the young man swivels in his chair ready to speak when she interrupts him once more.

“And there’s a pop up stall by your university! I can visit you on camp–”

“–No.” 

Misa looks up from her spot in the magazine, Ryuk’s interest on a dessert page showing an apple pie recipe, before she blinks in surprise. Rem watches the interaction but says nothing.

Bringing a hand through his hair, Light sighs and pivots halfway to face his desk once more. “My family is going to be suspicious if you keep lingering here, and it’s only a matter of time before my father and the task force find out about you. Going to campus only makes it more questionable if L or y/n see you.”

She scowls and sits upright, abandoning the magazine and crossing her arms in a sulking manner. “But you promised to take me out this week.”

“Later, Misa. Maybe this weekend there’s a cafe we stop at for a brief snack–”

“–Yay!” she interrupts and hops up in excitement. 

Technically Light also promised you that he would make up for your brief meeting later this afternoon with an outing of some sort– though he’s sure he can think of something to cover his bases later. 

Misa saunters over to his chair and grabs onto the back of it with enthusiasm as she eagerly looks at what seems to be taking all of his attention. Pushing her back slightly, Light returns his position to a list of names on a blank piece of paper, tapping his pencil to it. 

“It’ll be short though– I have to focus on building a better world as Kira, not wasting time on tedious things as your boyfriend.”

Despite the sharp tone and lack of genuine emotion, Misa hums with a smile at the ‘B’ word and nuzzles her head against the back of his; a different ‘b’ word drifts into Light’s mind. She’s enthusiastic despite the early hour– his desk clock reading 7:42am and her arrival to his house was only 30 minutes beforehand. 

He keeps his gaze on the paper, the same list of names as your exes, though this time with available home addresses he could easily find online without so much searching it would raise an eyebrow. Mentally calculating the commute time and remembering if he needed to take any transfer metros, Light stands up and begins to passively collect his belongings as indication that it was time for Misa to leave.

The young woman huffs but stands to the side and allows him to pack his school satchel until a slight ping emits from his cellphone on the corner of his desk. If his arm wasn’t halfway inside his backpack, he would’ve reached the device before Misa sweeped it off the furniture and clicked it open to see the ID. 

She reads the message once before Light can take a grab for it, pushing it in his face when she disapproves of the content. “‘I need to see you’? Who is this girl– and doesn’t she know you’re in a relationship?!”

Light blinks to adjust to the proximity before taking the phone and slightly relaxing that it was you messaging him and not Takada– a harder figure for him to talk his way out of seeing. Though this message was definitely strange…had he not already told you about the plans for coffee today?

Deciding to decipher it without the additional company, he pockets the phone and slings his bag across his chest. “It’s my work colleague–”

“y/n.” Misa interrupts with a frown. “Why is she sending you things like this…?”

Light doesn’t turn around and moves to pat down his pockets for his keys and student ID. “It’s probably something related to the Kira case… maybe a breakthrough.”

“All the more reason for me to kill her.”

He spins around at the suggestion and narrows his eyes as he sees the red tinge of Misa’s irises glow steadily with an agitated expression. “No.”

“Huh? But she’s in the way.” she complains back, standing with her arms pointing in fists straight at the ground in stubbornness. 

“She’s borderline family to my father and her current… ‘relationship’ complicates things. Simply put, don’t kill her.”

Misa turns with a huff at his answer and pivots towards his Shinigami instead. “Ryuk! You’ve seen her, is she pretty?”

It’s a loaded question, both him and Light know it, so Ryuk simply cackles with a gentle shrug and floats over to the young man’s side, ready to head out for the day. “I’m not trying to get involved with you lovebirds hehehe.”

Misa commits the text to memory and silently works out in her own way to deal with this situation even if her boyfriend seems unamused by any methods of intervention. Your name is effectively sealed in her mind.

Before she can protest again, Light heads down the stairs and ushers her out the front door before calling a quick ‘goodbye’ to his mother who brews coffee in the kitchen groggily. As soon as the door shuts, he heads for the commute to the transit line and distances himself from her. 

“I’ll call you before my meeting if things go well, ok?”

“Oh! Yes, please!! Can’t wait for it~” she giggles before spinning in the opposite direction to chat with Rem as the pair split for the day. 

*****

[still light pov]

The commute to Kawasaki Station was easier than he had anticipated, though the morning rush made it a bit tighter than he would’ve preferred. It’s on the same line as To Oh Uni, so it realistically shouldn’t take too long to get back to campus in time for class; though the train ride had provided Light with enough time to ponder your message.

At first glance it seems desperately urgent, but the lack of a follow up phone call or text indicates it’s either not dire or sent to the wrong person. Realistically, it could be you sending a request to see him before lunch– but then why hadn’t you just asked to simply change the time? That left the second option: that you had meant to send it to someone else. 

Walking out of the station and glancing down at his paper scribbled directions, Light knows the only one most likely for it to be directed to was L. If the contact for your ‘boyfriend’ had no change in the nickname or emoticons, it would most likely appear next to his name in your phone, a detail not missed by the young man sauntering down the street. 

And if that was the case, and you did have an urgent message for L, something big must be about to happen; a calm before the storm. Light doesn’t respond just in case you send anything else his way by mistake that could be useful; if you asked him about it later he would simply state he wasn’t on his phone or had believed you were confused about the coffee plans. 

There isn’t too much time to dwell on it though, slowly stopping when the apartment complex comes into view. Keeping the note in his hand, Light ignores the way Ryuk seems to eye the other people in the lobby and heads for the elevator before walking to the correct door he found online.

Pocketing the paper once the destination is verified, Light reaches forward to ring the intercom and gives a slight step backwards for space. There’s a brief pause as the homeowner clicks on the microphone but resigns to opening the door when static is the only that emits from the faulty speaker. 

It’s a man in his late 20s, hair disheveled still from sleep, dressed in casual loungewear who opens the door, exactly the man Light was looking for. He stands tall with decent muscle mass and rubs his eyes a few times to rub the drowsiness away; his voice is a few octaves deeper from recently waking up.

“Ummm, can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Light Yagami. I’m a student at To-Oh University.” Light does a polite bow and then exchanges his hand for the man to shake, but it hangs unreciprocated in the air.

An eyebrow raised, the apartment owner leans against the door frame in confusion and boredom. “Ok? And why are you here? Do I know you or something?”

“Sort of– I’m actually a friend of y/n’s. You’re Ken right?”

This gets his attention, the man, presumably Ken, straightens up and uncrosses his arms slightly; Light pulls his hand back to his side and looks intently into his eyes. “I want to speak with you about her.”

“Uhh…” Ken tilts his head and looks at the hallway to see if anyone is around and resettles his attention to the man at his front door so early in the morning, “Listen man, I’m not really in the mood to spend my morning talking about my ex…”

As Ken takes a step back in an attempt to shut the door and end the conversation, Light reaches forward to keep the metal open. “Wait!” there’s a brief pause from the outburst. “I’m in love with her and want to make sure you’re not going to get in my way.”

“Hahahaha–pft HAHAHAHA” Ryuk bellows from beside the man, happily entertained and clutching his stomach from the current show before him. “Say Light, you should consider giving up the whole ‘becoming a God plan’ and think about pursuing acting instead hehehe”

Light ignores the distraction as Ken furrows his brows and steps forward defensively, “What? She dumped me. I’m not trying to get in anyone’s way or whatever.”

The information is new and enough to spark further interest. “Really? If you don’t mind me asking… what happened?”

“Well I do mind you asking.” Ken rolls his eyes but tugs a sheepish hand through his hair. “Look, to make a long story short, I thought what we had was good, but she obviously didn’t see it that way. She was more dedicated to her work and thought I was moving too fast– we got in a slight argument and she called it quits. That’s it.”

It’s obvious that there’s definitely a lot more to this story, but it confirms Light’s initial theory that you were in no place seeking a relationship given your time commitments to school and work already. Ken is allegedly, from his memory, your most recent ex– meaning that if you broke off your last relationship to focus on your career… why would you suddenly hop into a new one?

“I see. To be fair that makes sense... I’ve been trying to find a time to confess, but she’s always so busy.”

Ken scoffs and rolls his eyes once more; he stands lighter but still isolating to the unwanted company. “Yea, well when she finds the time to hear you out, let me know.” He looks up at Light and shrugs. “Is that all? Can’t say I’m upset to hear she’s available, but it’s hard to listen to another trying to throw his hat in the ring.”

Light adjusts the strap on his shoulder, mentally checked out of the conversation but entertaining it for the sake of keeping face as a simple honor roll university student. “Hm? You mean after all that, you’d still want her back?”

Ken shrugs and moves to shut the door for good this time, “Yea I mean… you’re in love with her right? You get it I’m sure.”

The door clicks shut and Ryuk howls with laughter as Light ponders in complete stillness for a few extra moments before turning away and heading for the elevators once more. Everything lined up with his theory, that you were not in the market for a relationship, but each piece of information seemed to make him more and more curious. 

Why would you even agree to this staged relationship in the first place? Would you attempt to end it before Light could unveil the truth behind it? What was in it for you besides protection?-- humiliation and embarrassment were evident at every task meeting given by how Matsuda and Aizawa seem to act. 

In all this time contemplating the motives behind why you would be in this with L, Ryuk giggled above him wondering why it mattered so much to Light in the first place.

 Your POV

The meeting with Light is relatively simple and smooth given the atmosphere. Anyone else in the coffee shop presumed you were simply two students reviewing notes, not passing manilla folders containing confidential evidence on the current most wanted killer in the world.

You both sit at a the bar infront of the window, sipping on your beverages and watching the people outside pass in the rain as the conversation is filled with brief mentions of the Second Kira tapes and new suicide notes from prisoners. Anything regarding Misa is omitted, and Light passively accepts your explanations without too much rebuttal on your deductions; the whole moment is relatively normal. 

There’s a slight headache humming behind your eye and shivering slightly, Light looks up from the documents. “Not feeling well?”

“Mmm sorta. It’s fine though.”

You look back down at the photograph printed and take your pen to circle the state of the body while your companion sighs from beside you; taking the pen from your fingers and placing it on the table, he nudges you slightly. “You skipped class today too, why don’t you just sit this one out?”

“It’s like you can read my thoughts.”

Light chuckles but keeps his gaze on you before casually glancing back down at the photograph between you both. Normally you both wouldn’t be discussing such topics in public, but with the small cafe nearly empty and the sound of gentle rain and cars passing filling the air, the moment is private enough to discuss such sensitive material. 

You tugs a hand through your hair and run it down until your fingers toy with the strings of your hoodie, tugging them so the length evens out. “To be honest… I really might stay home today. Is that bad?” You mumble, fatigue evident in your bones.

He shrugs and picks up another document, turning it over to see if there is anything useful on the pack page and slipping into a manilla folder. “Not really. If you can’t think clearly, then it’s best to just recover until you can. No point in pushing yourself if your mind isn’t in the best position to work effectively anyways.”

You purse your lips at the casualness of the answer, but relax slightly at his confirmation. Normally, Light would be the one to play the devil’s advocate and push back, claiming that every moment not spent fighting for justice was going to waste– but in this situation it’s like he knew exactly what you needed to hear. You didn’t propose staying home in the hopes he would talk you out of it, you just wanted someone to confirm your own thoughts and not disagree.

He keeps the last page of an evidence file out and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. “As long as you’re still up for this weekend though; I want to make sure you know I can make good on my promises.”

“Seriously, you don’t have to take me out anywhere just for helping you review. To be honest, I doubt you even needed me to run through this considering how fast you think anyways.”

Light chuckles again and looks down at his watch before sliding off the stool and shuffling the folders into his satchel as you down the rest of your drink to head out as well. He slings the strap over his chest and adjusts his jacket slightly while waiting for you to return the drinkware back to the employee at the counter. 

You both step out into the rain and open your separate umbrellas. “Listen, Light…could you tell them I’m not feeling well? It’s not a complete lie… I just–”

“–Of course. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say you’re playing hooky considering you really do seem a bit unwell.”

You pause and smile slightly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime. I just hope there’s no trouble in paradise, as the real reason you aren’t coming.”

“Huh?!”

Of course, right when Light shows signs of being a gentleman and decent friend, he has to act like an ass and find little ways to torment you. Face flush and grasp on the umbrella turning your knuckles white, you wave your hands in front of him and stutter on your words. 

“W-Wait, no! That’s not it..I just…” you can’t seem to find a coherent phrase to explain yourself.

Light laughs at your outburst and shakes his head. “Ok, ok I’m joking– but your expression was hilarious.” He turns around and waves his hand up in a casual manner over his shoulder. “I won’t tell Ryuzaki anything, I promise.”

Furrowing your brows slightly, you watch the man walk away towards the campus as you stand with the soft pats of rain hitting your umbrella. 

***

The rest of the day goes by with a steady cycle of you trying to do more work on the case with the files you have at home, making snacks, attempting to take a nap, and then dissociating while watching people walk along the rainy streets through your window. It’s an upsetting and lethargic loop that only breaks when you notice the time is half-past 8 and your second cell phone shrieks to life from its spot on the kitchen counter. 

Shuffling off your perched spot by the windowsill, you reach for the phone and raise an eyebrow at the unexpected incoming call.

“Ryuzaki? Aren’t you… at the meeting right now?” 

“I could be asking you why you aren’t, but I heard through Light that you weren’t feeling well.”

‘Light’ is said with an obviously cool tone that it makes your back shiver slightly and mentally be grateful that if you’re about to be chewed out for dodging work, you can experience it in the comfort of your own home. 

“Yea that’s right. I woke up not feeling well is all– but I should be back for tomorrow’s meeting.”

There’s a brief pause and what sounds like Matsuda exclaiming how the vending machine ‘dropped two bags of chips even though he only pressed for one’ can be heard reverberating through the receiver. The shuffling of feet and then the click of a door bring a better silence to his side of the conversation. 

Ryuzaki’s silent for another moment. “You didn’t reach out today…Did something happen?”

The voice is soft and gentle, surprising you slightly and causing you to sit upright from your spot in a kitchen chair. Hadn’t you sent a message earlier?

“Wait a moment…” You rise and prop the phone between your cheek and shoulder while digging through your bag and pulling out your actual cell phone; flipping through the messages you realize the message you thought was sent to L was never actually written in the first place.

“That’s weird, I thought I texted you earlier…” you mumble before shrugging and tossing the device back into your bag.

“I never received anything… but what did you mean to send?”

Standing upright and moving to make another mug of coffee, you recall what you had seen on Misa’s social media. “Do you think you can pull Light’s bank statements? I know it’s a bit invasive, but there’s something I want to cross reference.”

There’s the sound of tapping on a keyboard before he speaks again. “Yes that’s fine, I’ve just sent Watari the instructions– but there is something I want to ask you before this break in the meeting ends.”

You set the mug on the counter and slide the sugar jar closer to you before opening a drawer in search of a spoon. “Ok, shoot.”

“Do you know anyone who lives by Kawasaki Station?”

…

The spoon clinks against the ceramic jar and the feeling of being watched makes your skin bump with uncomfortableness. Releasing the grasp on the utensil, you clench your phone to your ear and walk over to the door to ensure the deadbolt was thoroughly in place and peering out of the peephole.

“Yea, I do– well, did. We’re uhhh not really on speaking terms.”

There’s another brief silence. “...I think I can put the pieces together. Is this person a… threat to you of some sort?”

“Huh? N-No! He’s not dangerous or anything… It's just been a while since I’ve thought about him, is all. Feels weird.”

Ryuzaki hums on the other end and types a few things into his computer once more before a brief knock can be heard. “I see, thank you for this information.” He shuffles the phone but doesn’t end the call yet. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

The line goes dead before you can say anything, but the way he ends the sentence in the form of a question leaves a small amount of guilt gnawing at your gut. Though maybe it’s just indigestion.

Sinking in defeat back into the kitchen chair with an array of scattered documents littering the table, you push away your mug of coffee, suddenly feeling sick at the thought of drinking any more. Why were you acting so weird about this?

You’ve had a fair share of awkward events in your life that should’ve prepared you well enough for the questionable state of your relationship with the man… so what gives? Pursing your lips and playing with the edge of a paper, the words mix into a puddle of incoherent jumbles. It’s best to just go to bed and hope tomorrow is better. 

********

Tomorrow isn’t better.

You wake up 20 minutes after your alarm goes off, there's a headache pounding in your head the entire commute to campus, and in the break between classes you notice a new pimple growing on your chin while in the dingy bathroom of the criminal justice building. 

Classes are as boring as usual, and of course you forgot the book you’ve been reading at home, so you have nothing to do during class– not even L or Light text you once. It seems the universe is holding some sort of twisted grudge against you and when you walk to the familiar black sedan to drive you to the meeting, you realize you also forgot to pack a dinner and had to sheepishly plead with Watari to make a quick pit stop at a convenience store. 

Shuffling into the hotel room, Matsuda looks up with eagerness at your arrival, but Aizawa notices the drained look in your eyes and keeps his distance. Plopping your bag onto the floor and leaning back against the sofa, you barely notice the way Matsuda has slid over to sit beside you. 

“Feeling better? Light told us you weren’t doing too well– oh! But we do have new evidence with Misa! She’s–”

“–Enough.” Mogi chides from your other side at the man. “She’ll get filled in as we go, it seems like she's had a long day and just wants some space.”

You lean up lazily from your slumped position and give Mogi a look of gratitude before shrugging at the other man. “Sorry Matsuda, I’m just still feeling a bit out of it still.”

He sheepishly laughs and turns his attention now to Mr. Yagami who sits on the mirroring sofa with Aizawa; Ryuzaki perches in his usual position, staring at you and growing your lack of greeting towards him.

Watari finishes hanging up his coat and excuses himself for a moment before returning with a silver tray filled with a variety of mugs. Everyone takes their individually offered beverages with a brief ‘thanks’; sipping your mug you realize the coffee you’re usually given has been replaced with an unsweetened warm tea. 

It’s not bad, and the warm peppermint taste soothes your soul slightly as you begin to lock-in mentally for the meeting. Ryuzaki sets his own teacup on the coffee table with a soft ‘clink’ of the porcelain against the matching saucer and the group falls into a silence as everyone prepares to resume. 

“y/n asked me to pull a few bank files on Light, which is where I want to start now that you’re here.” L turns to you before watching Watari pass out matching scanned documents containing financial statements of the young man. “I wanted to preference this, Mr. Yagami, so you wouldn’t assume it was an ill-natured act.”

The older gentleman looks up and peers intently at you, a gaze which you mirror with seriousness before looking back down. Satisfied with no objection, Ryuzaki places his paper flat on the table and ushers you to take the lead. 

Falling back into the rhythm of these meetings, you shrug off any awkwardness and pull a highlighter from your bag to mark up several lines. “Now this can be coincidental but…” you run the neon yellow across a few withdrawals. “A few things here are sticking out to me.”

The group leans in to watch your annotations and Mogi raises an eyebrow at your markings. “They’re all cafes? Mm, maybe date spots?”

You nod and take a second color highlighter from your bag to mark the dates; you continue the process until you’ve reached the third page of his bank statements. “Exactly, but the main focus is more than the location, but the dates and price amounts as well.”

The men flip through their own papers, scanning for a pattern when L sits back slightly and takes the cuticle from his thumb between his teeth for a moment before speaking. “I see what you’re referencing– these cafe purchases seem to increase in price and their visitation frequency dramatically over the past few weeks.”

You nod while Aizawa scratches his chin with the papers in the other hand. “So he’s going there with someone? Isn’t that….normal?”

Mr. Yagami remains silent in his position but is clearly listening to every word when you shuffle your bag between your feet to pull your laptop from it. “Yes it would be, but I also noticed that Misa’s social media page has a few posts that would hint there’s a second person with her– there’s no photo proof of who though.”

Pushing a few things on the table back slightly, you scroll down to the first post in the pattern that contains a table set for two while Mogi flips through the bank statements. “The first change in his purchase history was only 4 days before that photo was posted…”

Matsuda sits back in awe and looks among the group. “So…he’s been seeing Misa outside of her visits to the house?”

You shrug slightly and scroll through a few more posts to see if they match the timeline of Light’s bank statements; a majority of them do. “It’s hard to say for sure if it’s circumstantial or not; there’s another girl on campus who seems to be into him.”

Mr. Yagami shifts slightly and sighs at the mention of his son’s love life, though minorly relieved at least Light wasn’t yet in attendance as his evening class would let out in another 20 minutes. 

L brings a small plate of macarons to himself and bites into the sugar dessert. “So we can infer that even if Light is simply a womanizer, it means he has an ability to form intense connections with multiple people without the parties’ knowledge. In short, the ability to live multiple lives.”

“I would prefer you not to call my son such vulgar terms.” Mr. Yagami huffs but doesn’t press further, upset at the thought his son could do something so scandalous. 

Aizawa places the paper down and looks among the group. “Ok, first thing: I’m not trying to defend a guy who might be cheating on his.. girlfriends?” He shoots the chief an apologetic wince before continuing. “But isn’t jumping from adultery to mass murder, a stretch? Even if Misa is one of these women he’s taking out… if Light is dating multiple girls at once, there’s a chance that him being with her is coincidental.”

“It can highlight his own duality as a person.” L cuts in, crunching the shell of the macaron and watching the crumbs coat his thumb and index finger. “On one side he’s a perfect student dating another woman on campus, and on the other, he’s manipulative and resonating with a woman now 90% certain to be the Second Kira. Surely if Light is spending time with her, and he was innocent, he would’ve deduced already that Misa is certainly questionable company.”

A silence hangs in the air and Mr. Yagami looks over at the man with a forlorn look on his face. “What does this mean, Ryuzaki? We have plans in effect to arrest Misa within the next week… what does that mean for my son?”

Heart strings tugging, you frown at the documents on the table and silently wish it had never come to this moment. L flicks a few of the crumbs off his fingers and picks the dessert again to pop it into his mouth. 

“Light will be tested to determine his own interpretation of her arrest, his answers will signify if he will need to be detained as well.”

A pin could drop onto the plush hotel carpet and someone across the city could still hear it; the men sitting around you shift in their seats with melancholic expressions. The knots in your abdomen stir again, and you clutch the pooled hoodie fabric with a slight grimace; when you look back up, you notice the way Ryuzaki looks at you with focus before blinking and peeling his eyes back to the group.

“Though we can cross that bridge when we arrive at it, for now let us continue with our planned schedule for the evening.”

The meeting shifts topics to focus on a variety of Kira suicides and growing online forums that seem to be popping up in when Light finally arrives. He sits languidly in a separate loveseat beside Matsuda and holds himself with an air of confidence that leaves you silently questioning your own disheveled appearance.

If he notices the group's lack of focus on the Second Kira this evening, he makes no effort to show it and filters through tasks as naturally as he usually does. There’s an unspoken tension to the way Ryuzaki perches in his chair however, not fully relaxing and keeping his gaze steady on either Light or you for the majority of the meeting. It’s not like he usually blinks anyways, but the intense stare makes you shift uncomfortably as if he was testing you as well. 

By the time the clock strikes 11pm and the group is noticeably yawning, Ryuzaki calls the meeting to a halt for the day. Matsuda blinks wearily and nearly opens his mouth to make a sly remark as to if you would be staying late but he swallows it when he notices you hastily packing your bag. Aizawa hasn’t even slid his second arm through his coat by the time you jump to your feet and give Watari an expression of eagerness. 

Ryuzaki slithers from his spot on the couch and meanders over to where you stand, ready to speak but making no sound from his mouth, as if he was waiting for you to talk to him first. You adjust the strap of your bag and tug the strings of your hoodie to even out before giving a curt glance to the man at your side– awkwardly realizing that you should probably do something considering the arrangement and audience. 

Coughing slightly, you close your distance to the man and lean forward to plant a quick kiss to the apple of his cheek before peeling back; L stands there in a flustered surprise and blinks rapidly for a few moments from the act. Shuffling to the front door to meet Watari, you throw up an awkward wave to the group and give a curt ‘see everyone tomorrow’ before shuffling into the hallway without looking back once. 

****

Looking back on it, yes, you probably should've had an adult conversation with Ryuzaki last night. You do admittedly feel a little bad about dodging him for two consecutive days now, but it’s not like you had many options to begin with. If you didn’t bring up the problem, then it didn’t exist in the first place! Simple, right?

Ok, realistically the you from a few nights ago would be clawing for another moment locked away with the man, but over the past 48 ish hours your emotions have left you feeling more drained and defeated than horny for physical attention. At least for right now.

You’ll talk to him tonight– after the meeting you’ll ask for better guidelines or maybe even a rule list for the do’s and don’ts if this ‘relationship’ were going to work.

Do: Hold hands in public.

Don’t: Grind an erection into you unless you have the emotional desire to further escalate things and put a serious label on this agreement!

Mentally patting yourself on the back, you stand in your kitchen preparing lunch for the day at home since your afternoon class was cancelled for a ‘family emergency’ from the professor. The sun is shining after days of rain, the temperature is warming slightly, and the radio playing idly in the background makes your life seem more out of a 2000s slice-of-life movie rather than the exhausting mess it’s been recently.

Humming to the music and stirring the pot in front of you, the moment provides you with a feeling of contentment, as if maybe your luck has finally turned around.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Nevermind.

You frown and look at the microwave clock, all your friends should be in class at this time, before placing your utensil down and padding over to the front door of your apartment. Peering through the peephole for all of 2 seconds, you stumble backward and practically pull the door off its hinges in shock. 

“Ryuzaki?!”

Standing in the hallway of your complex, L stands awkwardly with a baseball cap and sunglasses on along with a long baggy white crewneck; it’s the same outfit he wore on campus when you two…made out.

The memory makes your cheeks flush as you side step to allow the man to walk inside. Checking to see if maybe Watari was with him but finding no one, you shut the door and watch Ryuzaki kick off his sneakers [without socks on] and walk into the small apartment with a paper bag in tow. 

Blinking in shock for a few moments, you sheepishly look at the unkempt state of your living arrangements and swallow half the questions you want to spur on the man. Coasting back to your pot, you lower the heat and raise an eyebrow at him.

“What are you doing here?”

L places the paper bag on the small kitchen table and looks around once before peeling off his ridiculous disguise and takes in the cozy atmosphere of your apartment. “I figured you were still avoiding me and decided to come here directly to save time.”

…

You blink a few times and defensively scoff. “What? I’m not… avoiding you.”

He gives you a stare of ‘don’t even try to lie your way out this’ before padding over to your tiny living room and admiring the details of your living space. “Anyways, I did a bit of digging the same day you called out and pulled Light’s metro card transactions. I want to review them with you now, before tonight’s meeting.”

Picking up where you left off cooking, you face the pot and try to act as nonchalant as you can given the unexpected visit. “Alright, any interesting places he went to?”

L smiles gently at the mess of throw blankets that litter your second-hand sofa along with the few stuffies that seem to be placed in their own respective spot on the cushions. You peer over and mentally scold yourself at being a grown adult who leaves stuffed animals laying around… when there’s someone to catch you. 

He squishes the arm of one of them before padding back into the connected kitchen. “There’s more of a lack of places he’s been.”

You don’t bother responding, knowing he’ll go into more detail, and continue your stare at the stove.

“Every weekday he scans for campus, to the meeting, and then back home– but he didn’t scan to campus yesterday.”

“Hm? I saw him at a coffee shop right by the quad though?”

L nods and digs his hands into his front pockets, obviously getting comfortable in your living space within minutes. “Exactly, and he didn’t scan the rest of the day either. This would usually mean he simply forgot his metro card, but when I compared his bank statements once more I saw transaction fluctuations in single-ride ticket purchases.”

You look up and raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Standard metro fares are calculated by distance, and from his house directly to To-Oh costs roughly 200 yen for the travel. The other day, there were two transactions, one for 180 and another for 150. Meaning he stopped somewhere before arriving at class.”

The phone call from the other day comes back to memory. “Is that why you asked about Kawasaki Station?”

Ryuzaki nods once and steps a bit closer. “I know it’s invasive into your privacy, but I have a theory that Light purposely stopped there to meet with…uh someone you know.”

You don’t need to say the name out loud for you both to know who he’s referring to– your ex-boyfriend. 

Continuing to stare at the pot simmering on the stove with a torn feeling, Ryuzaki lets out a soft sigh at your lack of response and saunters up to stand right beside you. He eyes the content of the pot for a few moments before peering over your shoulder to look along the kitchen counter in search of something. 

“Making spicy instant noodles? Ah, I forgot it was nearly time…so everything makes more sense. Did you also grab a cola and bag of chips to pair with it?”

You keep your eyes on the boiling pot. “Oh yea I made sure to– wait.” You place the chopsticks that were being used to stir the contents flat on the counter with a thud! “How did you know I always pair it with those?”

Ryuzaki stares at the noodles without blinking but the bob of his Adam’s apple from the nervous swallow gives away his guilty conscience. “I’m very observant.”

You cock an eyebrow and tilt your head with arms crossed. “And what about ‘it was nearly time’...?”

The sentence drags off when you push past him to grab your phone from the counter and frantically pull up your digital diary; Ryuzaki keeps facing the stovetop and resumes your position of stirring the noodles and checking the consistency. 

Clicking through the days on the calendar section, your face wrinkles in horror and surprise. “You’ve been tracking my cycle?!”

L peers over like a pet caught with something in their mouth and turns his attention back to the boiling water as if he could ignore the conversation entirely. He picks up a noodle with the chopstick and keeps his back to you. “Would you like me to drain them?”

“Answer me, pervert!”

A pillow you grabbed from the sofa is hurled at him as he awkwardly dumps the contents into a colander and tosses the noodles back into the pot with the spice packet. You move to grab a plush this time, but his quiet response makes you pause mid wind up.

“It wasn’t my intention…I simply noticed there were days you seemed more irritable and uneasy and decided to take note.” He stirs the contents and lowers his voice even more. “By the time I noticed what I was actually tracking, the pattern was too useful to stop.”

You drop the plush back onto the sofa and furrow your brows to recount every instance that he may have used this information. “Wait so… the herbal tea served?”

“Caffeine isn’t recommended for those experiencing PMS.”

“And the seat heater being on in the car?”

“Heat can be beneficial for relaxing cramps.”

You pick up the stuffed animal and throw it again with full force. “Perv! Why are you tracking this!?”

Ryuzaki dodges the attack and pries open your cupboard in search of a clean bowl as if it were the most natural act in the world. He opens the next set and grasps a ceramic bowl from the shelf before pivoting back. “Well, shouldn’t your boyfriend know these things?”

“Yea, well you’re not actually my boyfriend-.”

Ouch. 

The word comes out with more force than you want them to and L flinches at the sentence before resuming his act of pouring the noodles into a bowl and stirring them one last time. He places the bowl at an open spot on the kitchen table before bending to collect the pillow and stuffie from the floor as you stand there with a mix of regret and embarrassment. 

“Ryuzaki–”

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off and walks past you to place the items back on the couch before shuffling to sit at the table in his usual awkward position. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I’ll… just forget everything.”

Great. Now you feel like shit.

Sighing anxiously, you pad over to the kitchen table and sit across from him with a guilty conscience. “No.. I didn’t mean it like–”

“I already said it’s fine.” He interrupts again and begins digging through the paper bag. “This relationship is constructed for your protection… nothing more.”

You open your mouth and close it, feeling wounded from the words; when you look up from your untouched bowl, Ryuzaki sits with his hands extended out holding your university crewneck. The same one you had left behind the night the two you…

“Let me explain, ok?”

L looks up at the untaken garment and places it on an empty spot on the wooden furniture in silence. 

“I just…” 

Yes you wanted to explain, but actually finding the words was much harder than you expected it to be. “I… I like this, ok?”

“This?”

You pick up the chopstick and play with the food, feeling small and embarrassed from your outburst. “Yea, this…us.”

Ryuzaki doesn’t move from his spot, but the dark irises of his eyes seem to soften in relief slightly.

“I mean even if it’s fake…” the word makes you scowl slightly but you continue on, “I like spending time with you and doing this with you, L.”

He stays quiet for a moment and nods in a steady beat, testing the words out in his head as he digests the meaning of them. 

“So… then do you still want me to stop tracking…?”

It starts as a snort from the absurdness of this conversation before you break into a full cackle and run a hand down your face at the absurdity that is your life. “You know what? Do whatever you want– fake boyfriend or real, if you think it’s beneficial, then go ahead.”

You may miss the way ‘real’ slips from your tongue, but L certainly doesn’t; his face flushes at the suggestion before smiling gently to himself and relaxing back into the table as if the open seat across from you was always open for him in the first place. 

“Very well then. I also enjoy doing this with you.” He toys with the hem of your folded sweatshirt sleeve when you finally sit back upright and offer an apologetic smile. 

Standing from your seat, you raise a hand to keep him in place and shuffle into the kitchen for a few moments before returning with a small can of cola– the same one you had planned on drinking with your lunch– and placing it in front of the man.

“It’s the sweetest drink I have at the moment, but it’s all yours.”

Ryuzaki blinks at the gesture with arrhythmia before looking back up and noticing the way you eat casually across from him; with a small ‘thanks’ he pops the tab open and takes a sip.

There’s a few moments of silence before L shifts back into detective mode and taps the table with his finger after placing the can back down. “So now that we know Light is visiting your exes, we have to be especially careful in how we incorporate intimacy to our relationship.”

Any food that was in your mouth is now partially lodged in your esophagus as you cough and choke at the bluntness of his words. Patting yourself on the back a few times and gulping for air, you look up at Ryuzaki incredulously. “Ok 2 things: 1. Maybe ease into these kinds of topics moving forward.”

L blinks but shrugs in approval silently. 

“2. Are we sure he’s visiting my ex? I mean aren’t there other destinations he would visit of equal value?”

Ryuzaki thinks for a moment and plays with the tab of the aluminum can. “No, I’m 85% certain he’s visiting one of the people from your past.”

Deflating slightly, you resign to take another bite of your food while L reaches around to the close kitchen counter and passes you the bag of chips. You begin to offer him a ‘thanks’ before shooting him a slight scowl and snatching the snack from his hands.

You pry open the bag and offer him one, which he declines, before munching. “So what does this mean for us? I mean even if Light is going to them… why would that affect uhhh–our ‘intimacy’?”

Geez the word makes you feel like you're in middle school health class again. 

“He may use it as a comparison.”

Ok well there goes your appetite for the moment. “We really need to work on how you can say this so casually.”

Ryuzaki sits back slightly while you prop your elbows up on the table and lean forward. 

“Light never even saw me and my ex together that many times to begin with– so there’s not many physical things he can compare us to.”

“We don’t know what he asked your previous partner though. It’s possible he wanted to know about dating habits as well.”

This makes you pause and slightly contemplate your own habits when in a relationship; most of them seem relatively normal to anyone your age dating and you scrunch your face in defeat. 

“I don’t really do anything out of the ordinary though...”

“Hmm. So what would that entail then?”

…. 

Right. 

A heat flushes on your cheeks and you stand up once more to pour a glass of water to calm yourself slightly. After draining half the glass and filling it up once more, you abandon the table and awkwardly begin to tidy the blankets that litter your sofa in an anxious desire to clean. 

“It’s just normal couple stuff ya know? Like… kissing, hand holding… the usual.”

Ryuzaki stands up and joins you in the connected living room to fix a few cushions before sitting down and looking up at you with less patience. “Yes, but what matters is the manner in how you do those things. That’s what Light is going to be looking for.”

Shivering slightly, you plop down next to him and run a hand on the back of your neck. “I mean…I’m not super big into outbursts of PDA so what we did on campus was a bit out there. And the most risqué thing I’ve done in public is maybe having hickies visible.”

Ryuzaki nods and bites on the nail of his thumb once before spinning in his spot and leaning in past the point of personal space and looking at your face intently. “Alright, let’s do it.”

You pause and raise your hands in shock. “Wait wait wait. What?”

He looks at you unamused and stares from eye to eye before briefly looking down at your lips and peeling his gaze away hastily. “Let’s.. Do hickies.”

‘Do hickies?’

Running a hand down your face and tugging the flesh under your eyes down from the force, you turn to the man with a cautious expression. “Do you even know what those are?”

“Oh, sorry if my phrasing was off. They’re the bruises you leave on a person as a form of possession, right? Or am I mistaken?”

Forget Kira, this man was going to be the death of you.

With a sigh you nod. “That’s correct. But are you sure you even want to do this?”

“Of course, but it also requires you to be comfortable with this as well.” Ryuzaki looks around the room once more and settles further into his seat. “I know that the lines of this agreement are not particularly clear… but I want to make sure that this relationship can successfully protect you. If its effectiveness depends on moments like this and ones similar to the other evening… I’m more than content to continue if you are as well.”

Looking at him in the eyes again, you can feel the strange hypnotic trance he always seems to place you under takeover once more. Of course you want to do this. You would do this and more at the drop of a hat if someone were to pry the truth from you. 

Pushing your ego down, you lick your lips and nod your head in agreement. “I mean, if it’s for the job, I don’t mind.”

Ryuzaki watches the way your tongue pokes out as you moisten your bottom lip and finds his own eyelids hodding slightly as he leans in closer. “Of course. For the job. To catch Kira.”

You spin on the cushion to face the man, the music on the radio long since forgotten now playing a steady ambience to fill the air as you tug his knees to sit on the sofa correctly. Ryuzaki obeys silently and lets his knees bend on the cushions the way most people would position them, and the image is almost uncanny. 

There’s a few beats of silence until you lean forward with L mirroring the action and connecting your lips in a fervent kiss. The same fast learner he’s always been, Ryuzaki hastily rocks his head against yours eager to taste everything, as if he had been waiting for this the moment he knocked on your door. What’s supposed to be a warm up kiss quickly dissolves into an entire makeout session on your couch as limbs scramble and paw at one another. 

Your hands tangle in his hair and your lean forward to get even closer while his hands tug at your waist to get you seated on his lap once more. Nearly tripping and stumbling over each other to get into a similar position as the one a few nights prior, neither one of you bother to break the kiss. 

Saliva dripping from the corners of your mouths, sweet cola taste lingers on your lips when an attempt to breathe leaves Ryuzaki surging his tongue into your mouth. Groans are muffled by the sloppy sounds of lip smacking, and the rock of your hips into his makes his hands dig into the plush flesh of your waist. 

All that talk and worry about ‘what are we’ is thrown out the window the moment the opportunity to kiss this man arises, and you 36 hours would be shaking her head at the lack of self restraint. 

A few more rocks of your hips against his, you part slightly and chuckle when he leans forward to kiss your lips once more before sinking to lay against the armrest in submission. Pushing up slightly, you trace your hands gently along his jaw and shiver when his breath catches in his throat as you guide his head to tilt to the side. His pulse is pounding beneath your fingertips as you take the other hand to brush strands of dark messy hair away from his neck; Ryuzaki clenches at the cushions and flexes the muscles in his body as if bracing for impact. 

Tutting slightly, you push a final strand away from his throat and lower down slightly but raise your eyes to meet his. 

“Just relax, ok? I’ll leave a few on you first… and then you can do some on me.”

L sighs in a mixture of approval and nervousness as you graze your lips along the column of his throat before resting on the quivering pulse point under his jaw. Taking a moment to enjoy the fresh scent of shampoo in his hair and clean detergent on his clothes, you press a gentle kiss into the flesh before parting your mouth and sucking.

ch.7 is doneeee hehe

this chapter is so long already, that i decided the next one would open with a spicy scene hehe

to be honest, this was really hard for me to write, and i went back several times because i wasn't sure i liked the pacing of everything.

-> i'll most likely go back and slightly edit a few scenes in the morning [im posting this at like 3am my time whoops] in case they look weird to me

-> also this was proofread at like 2am so im definitely gonna give it a few look overs tmr

-> if anyone has seen 'community' there's a scene where Abed accidentally tracks the cycle of other characters and for some reason i felt like L would accidentally do the same thing and notice when the reader would experience PMS

anywayyys

TY for all ur love and support for this series, you guys seriously make my day with ur comments and funny remarks

I LUV U POOKIES

all likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated

-oatmeal<3

tagist: @lechatparle24 @irissfoot @iheteeaifs @automaticpatroltragedy @greenapplesaucepi @thesimpnovao @leiiilaaaa @duckydee-0 @dija200 @cherry-san @hanakokunzz @maribellaaaaa @love-of-less

[magicdustsworld]

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader; tw - Fellatio, cum swallowing, adultery; divider credits - @saradika-graphics

Imagine sucking off Yakuza boss!Sukuna while he is on a call.

Forced down to your knees, red tongue darting out to swirl over his frenulum—eliciting a lewd groan from him. Sukuna peers down at you, a corner of his lip curling up into a provocative sneer while maroon gaze scorches with an erotic desire.

"Yeah and? mhmm... what the fuck did Masume say?"

Holding the phone with his left hand, he brings up the pointer of his right to his lips—gesturing you to keep it low. (As if he really wants that?) You return his gaze with a leacherous one of your own—an invitation cum challenge he recognizes all to well. You pass a smirk and not a second later, you're eagerly accepting the glans penis inside your mouth. Lapping up at the tip, you proceed downwards, coating his entire cock with your saliva before readily sucking him off.

Sukuna's attention is allegedly on the call at hand. A blissful expression clouds over his eyes s he hums and murmurs curses under his breath while speaking to— whoever the fuck it is. However, as you go down on his cock, bopping your head in a to and fro motion, all to please him like a good girl, he just seems to not notice it. Taking it for granted, is he? Unknowingly, you scoff under your breath, trails of his musky precum settling on your tongue; you gulp them without much of a second thought.

You look up again and the same sight greets you. Yes, you know it may be an important call and you know you shouldn't do it. You still do it.

Your teeth grazes over his prepuce.

"Ngh Fuck– Huh? Nothing, just uh, don't worry. Whatcha' saying again?"

He glares at you, threading his fingers through your luscious strands; he tugs them back firmly. Mouth filled with cock, your protest only comes off as a jumbled mess. Leaning down, momentarily he retracts the phone from his ear, "Do this shit properly or this will be the last thing you'll be sucking." Said so, he is back to his call.

The threat lingers in the air—he isn't lying. You know. Countless times you have seen him snap the string of someone's life without an exchange of words. The grip of his Beretta M9 peaks out of his pocket, the looming peril and the sheer power he holds over you in this situation(and all the others) making itself stark clear. Despite the eminent danger oozing off of his body language, the thrill of it all sends a pulse to your core.

You clamp your legs tighter, the fabric of your panties brushing with your clitoris. Regardless, the warning does the job and as much of a desperate whore you can be for the man above you, you still want to watch and experience this charade play out.

Besides, you already got his attention, didn't you?

Gaze fixated on you, with both pair of teeth out in a menacing display akin to a ravenous beast being served, he watches you. You move your head back and forth, aiming to just give him a stellar fellatio while your cunt starts to drip with wanton need. You nibble on his his foreskin, forcing more of his girth inside your hot cavern, the wet muscle licking over the glans—raunchy moans escalating from you.

"Got over with– Ah shit! Where did you learn that? Wasn't speaking to you, just some maggots."

Seriously, maggots?

You deserve something more than that. However, before you can retract yourself from his cock, Sukuna’s strength comes to play. He, quite literally, forces you down on his cock till your smeared mulberry tinted lips wrap around his base. He buckles his hip, fucking your face on his own as he sets a relentless pace making tears to spring up your eyes. His cock head reaches so far and so deep that it hits your uvula. Manicured nails digging into the fabric of his pants, you try to balance yourself on your knees—task proving to be futile.

Guttural moans start to escape Sukuna as well. Struggling either to make sense of the speaker or let himself find reprieve with the way your mouth welcomes him.

The latter seems to win by a large mark.

"Heard ya' the first time, what the ahh– shit! You little minx," A smirk curves up his lips, forehead creasing as the product of erotigenic act knots in the pit of his stomach. "Fuck– wasn’t talking to you, bitch. Hang up."

No sooner he utters the last two words, the phone is discarded on the leather couch. He cages you in his grasp, lascivious noises releasing from him as the sweatbeads start to cling and drip down. The acrid smell of arousal and the squelching sound of mouth meeting flesh reverberates through the corners of his office.

His cock twitches in your mouth, your eyes have only partially widened when he is shooting thick ropes of cum down your throat. He holds you his place, tip of nose, pressing against his pubes till you swallow each and every seed he has to offer; something you find yourself doing alike second nature.

His grip loosens and you retract your mouth from his cock with a pop sound. A string of saliva connects your glistening lips with his cock. Trails of ecstasy running down your lips—Sukuna, extends his hands, gently wiping it away with his thumb. An act proving to be a stark contrast to the names he called you while he was bullying your throat.

With name calling, something flickers in your mind...

"Who was that?"

"Don't you wanna know?" He snickers, grabbing you by the bicep as he pulls you up on his lap so you're left to straddle him. "Just my dumb wife filling me on what she did today."

[marvelstoriesepic]

Paranoia

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky comes home to an unlocked door - his mind convinces him something horrible happened to you

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, fluff

author‘s note: Y‘all this is my first fic. So excited to get this all started!!

Masterlist

It had long gone dark as Bucky made his way home to you. A mission in Vienna occupied him for the last couple of days and he couldn’t wait to hold you in his arms again, breathe you in, and smoother you with kisses. Communication outside of the headquarters was denied much to Bucky’s dismay so instead of your melancholy voice he only got to hear annoying and unhelpful remarks from Sam through his com, who was tasked to watch his six.

He weaved his bike through the mostly empty streets, definitely faster than he was supposed to but eager to see you.

Walking up the steps to your shared apartment he couldn’t resist the giddy feeling welling up inside his chest, warmth spreading throughout his body. You and Bucky moved in together one year and three months into your relationship. Although it was his place too - you reminded him several times - he let you decorate it the way you wanted it, only throwing in a remark here and there.

He just loved the feeling of being surrounded by you - by the things you chose to include in the life you had with him. The couch, where you would cuddle up together, bundled in a blanket, limbs interlinked, watching a show together. The curtains, you would drag across the window to shield Bucky and you from the world outside. The flower pots littering your small balcony where you showed him how to take care of the plants after he drowned the azaleas last spring. Even the shoe rack where your sandals and sneakers were lined up right next to his boots reminding him of the life you shared. That this was real. That he had you and you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

That giddy feeling though left his body in an instant, with no resemblance of it ever being there. His heart sank to his shoes, even further but his brain couldn’t follow. He was feeling hot all of a sudden but nothing like the warmth that took hold of his heart just moments earlier. His mind was going haywire, wild eyes staring at his hand, which unbeknownst to him started shaking already. His key was still in his hand, ready to turn in the deadbolt of the lock, but all it took was a small push to open the door.

He didn’t realize he may be overreacting. Didn’t consider you could have just forgotten to lock the door. No. Unwillingly, his thoughts were clouded with the worst his mind could conjure up. This was New York after all. And he was the goddamn Winter Soldier for crying out loud. He did his best to make amends, trying to demonstrate that he isn’t the person people know him as but there will always be a few seeing him as the man Hydra trained him to be. He still got funny looks while walking the street, someone crossing the street when he approached and he noticed the sympathetic smiles people throw your way because they couldn’t seem to wrap their mind around how someone as sweet, compassionate, and gleeful can be with someone as him. He had trouble understanding that too.

So while it could have been a small mistake on your part Bucky was reeling at the easy access to your apartment. He shouldered his way into your home scanning the room and calling your name, a waver in his voice.

Nothing looked out of place, no evidence of a break-in. The fluffy white blanket was folded over the armrest of the couch. Piles of books were neatly placed in the bookshelf you built up together. Well, Bucky did, while you read chapter after chapter of the current book you were reading aloud. It took him two hours to build that shelf but not because he had difficulties. He just was afraid you‘d stop reading to him when he finished. Everything looked as it was supposed to but the nagging feeling didn’t let up and he chased down the corridor.

“Doll? Come on baby, where are you?”

He stalked into your bedroom, hoping to see you wrapped up in a warm blanket and reading a book or taking a nap waiting for him but he was met with the empty sheets arranged neatly. Through his panicked thoughts, he couldn’t make out the quiet creak of the door to your laundry room further down the hall and rushed footsteps coming his way.

“Y/n!”

He was shouting at this point, sheer panic lacing his voice and turning on his heels to check the other rooms.

“Buck-”

Bodys colliding, a yelp, Buckys arms shot out to steady you. You found your balance again shooting a concerned albeit bewildered look up at him.

“Buck, what’s going on?”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed out while enclosing his arms around you, tugging you against him. Relief flooded his body and he swayed you both a little still feeling wobbly on his legs and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment while taking a big breath, filled with your scents. His hands roamed your body searching for anything that could indicate discomfort or pain.

You let him hold you for a few moments, feeling his chest heave with deep breaths, and only lightened your hold on him when his heartbeat evened out again. Without letting go completely you lifted your head and tilted backwards to study him better.

“What happened Buck?”

Your whispered concern got Bucky out of his mind and he opened his eyes to look down at you, the hold on you never faltering. He looked a little sheepish now, shaking his head in a small movement, and took a shuddering breath.

“The door wasn’t locked,” it came out with a rasp and he cleared his throat, eyes shifting a little before they met yours.

You furrowed your brows and turned your head in the direction of the door. A couple of seconds later it hit you. You got some groceries earlier today and got distracted by the beeping of the washing machine when entering the apartment. You just shut the door, put the groceries down, and moved Bucky's clothes to the dryer. You wanted them to be clean and dry for when he came back. Walking back you went straight for the groceries to store them away without sparing another glance at the door.

“Shit Buck, I forgot,” It was your turn to look sheepish. You grimaced, moving to meet his eyes again.

“Figures,” he chuckled, placing a kiss on your forehead, lingering there longer than needed, and caught your eyes again, sporting a serious expression this time.

“I’m not scolding you for forgetting baby, it happens, but I need you to lock that door,” he voiced in a whisper, blue orbs intently focused on you.

You sigh, breaking his eye contact, and nod heavily.

“I know Buck, I’m sorry,”

He shook his head, his flesh hand reaching up to caress your cheek and tilting your head to meet his eyes again. His lips met your nose, then your forehead, lingering there again, before holding your gaze and speaking softly.

“Don’t apologize doll, I just…,” He closed his eyes, hanging his head, trying to compose himself so as not to fall back into franticness.

“Hey,” Your soft voice and touch calmed him in an instant. Glossed-over blues met yours again and you brushed your lips over his in a sweet kiss. “I get it. I’m sorry I got you worried baby, won’t happen again. I promise!”

He leaned in to kiss you again angling your head to deepen it. It was slow and soft and you rested your forehead against his after pulling away.

“I missed you!”

He pulled you closer even though it was impossible, nuzzling his head against yours. His lips spread into a smile.

“I missed you too baby! So much.”

Your smile matched his. “You kill Sam yet?”

He chuckled lightheartedly, his body relaxing against yours, the tension in his shoulders leaving completely. He knew you tried to distract him and it worked. It’ll always work because you’re the only one able to ease his mind when his paranoia gets the better of him.

“All beauty has a little tragedy”

- Bridgett Devoue

[malevoreenthusiast]

Blue Collar Belly

Hey all! Sorry for being MIA for a bit, but I'm back and certainly haven't forgotten about any of you. I wrote this short story for a close friend, but I ended up wanting to post it here, too. As always, requests and asks are welcome! Enjoy~

With the job of “safety-man,” Jacob didn’t have a lot to do, but that didn’t mean his task wasn’t important. Him and the crew had been working on this construction site amidst the breezy spring months, and the time was finally upon them where they could listen to the first notes of the cicadas buzzing in the outstretched hand of summer. As all of the guys shifted positions each day, Jacob was stuck with potentially the most boring of them all—holding the ladder steady while someone else did the foundations and construction part of the job.

The position wasn’t all bad, though, as Jacob was able to daydream in Wonderland whilst he coworkers did all of the hard, albeit interesting, work.It was about midday and his senior by about twelve years—John—was at the top of the ladder, working on some lighting issue in the house they were contracted in. As a fresh guy out of high school, the relaxed and carefree Jacob hadn’t been paying much attention to the task at hand, rather looking out a nearby window and thinking about an upcoming vacation he had with his family. 

His mind had in fact drifted so far from the ladder that he didn’t notice his grip slowly lessen on the ladder. What’s worse, John started losing his balance without the stability Jacob provided. So, one thing led to another, and a tiny slip caused John to come crashing down—right on top of Jacob

The loud noise snapped Jacob back to attention; he looked up and opened his mouth to shout at John, when both guys went toppling onto the hardwood floor. Somewhat dazed, Jacob tried getting up, but the bulky weight of John prevented that. Then, another feeling clouded the forefront of his brain—something was in his mouth. As a blue-collar boy, Jacob had been raised to eat what was given to him, no matter the flavor. So, an involuntary reaction caused him to swallow hard. When the thing in his mouth wan’t all the way down his throat, Jacob swallowed again, feeling John shift slightly above him.

“Woah, woah! The fuck are you doin’, kid?” John tried to get up, but he seemed to be stopped by something.

Jacob wanted to speak, but the meaty flavor in his mouth was getting in the way, so his body started gulping faster, trying to devour whatever he had managed to fit in his maw so he could answer his superior. One final gulp sent the entirety of John’s hairy arm down his throat, and Jacob finally realized what he had been doing. Someway, somehow, Jacob had engulfed the entirety of John’s forearm and hefty bicep and shoulder into his mouth. What’s worse, he couldn’t stop himself. Be it his body’s involuntary reaction or the habits he had grown up with, Jacob’s lips stretched apart inhumanly far, allowing John’s head to fall into his gullet, caressed by his spongy and desperate tongue. Instinctually, Jacob put both hands on his coworker-turned-meal and began to push him deeper down his throat. For some reason, John tasted delicious, and he didn’t want to stop. His body’s urges took control, and he slurped down the senior’s shoulders and chest with alarming haste and frightening ease. Jacob felt his stomach slowly expand to encompass John’s arm into his stomach chamber, followed by his head and shoulders. He didn’t know how he was doing this, but he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. His body gulped and slurped and swallowed and sucked without any of Jacob’s own input. John’s legs were slurped down like noodles, without any apparent difficulty on Jacob’s part. His belly, which had ripped his shirt open when he was at John’s waist, wobbled and made disgusting, grotesque gurgling noises as John settled inside his gut.

“Oh my—UUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP—fuck. I’m—BBBBBWWWWAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP—so sorry bro—sir! I don’t even,” Jacob marveled at what had just happened. He didn’t even think about doing…this. His body just swallowed his coworker for him, and what’s worse, it felt really good. Jacob rubbed a calloused hand over his spherical belly and felt it jostle with the living person trapped inside.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

A neon green construction vest and orange hard hat ejected out of Jacob’s mouth like a canon. Where John was, he wouldn’t really be needing these any more. Gingerly, Jacob stood up (which was still quite difficult, as he had to carry around the extra weight of his coworker) and gingerly made his way over to the company truck, opting to take his lunch break, even though he had just had quite a big lunch. He wanted to apologize to John, but hey, now that John’s spot was open, Jacob might get a pretty nice promotion. Plus, Jacob was the youngest on the crew, so it was about time that someone threw him a bone—he just didn’t expect it to be a whole skeleton. 

Inside the gurgling belly, John could faintly hear the unzipping of Jacob’s lunch box. How the hell could this kid think to eat at a time like this? He could already feel the digestive juices pouring into the stomach chamber, and his skin started tingling. Worse yet, his breathable oxygen was already faint with the worker’s immense and crass belches he let out. For Jacob to be enjoying his lunch like nothing ever happened felt like the ultimate insult. With what little strength John could muster, he began pounding at the fleshy walls of Jacob’s belly, trying fervently to escape.

“Easy now, big guy. UUUURRRPPPPP,” Jacob belched out the side of his mouth, leaking even more oxygen for John. “Look man, I was taught never to turn down a free meal, and it sucks, but that’s just the way life goes. Just let my belly take care of you, and I’ll handle the rest,” Jacob smirked before biting into a peanut butter jelly sandwich his mom had made him that morning. Something told him that this John wasn’t going to be the only guy squirming around in his belly that day.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

P.S. if you made it this far--Freddie's Feat pt. 3 is going to be my next story, so keep your eyes peeled for that coming soon! ;)

[2b4st4r]

yayy ur reqs are open,um can I ask for a Strawhats x reader who is from a hidden candy island and is  the only one that is made of actual candy because the cheif of the island crafted her from the candy mines,and the strawhat's stop at her island and meet her as she's getting the hang of her life

She's basically a newborn and is teaching herself to walk even though she has the boys of a 14 year old she's still just been crafted only a week  before but Luffy wants her to join the crew

Sweet Beginnings

⋆˚꩜｡ Straw-Hat Pirates x Reader

🍭ྀི Words: 5,176

🍭ྀི Warnings: child endangerment, manipulation, abuse, anxiety, child like fem y/n, mild violence

🍭ྀི A/N: made this well double tasking, hope it turns out okay!

You’re not sure why you were made, or why he decided you were worth the sugar. But you know you were his last hope, the final masterpiece. He missed his granddaughter, the one who wasn’t made of candy. So, he made you.

The first time you spoke, you responded in gibberish. You were just a body of sugar, a new creation. They all laughed—the soft-melted gumdrop guards, the caramel-coated scholars, even the Chief himself. His thick molasses beard shook with joy, and he wiped a crystal tear from his peppermint smile. You didn’t understand what was so funny; the sugar in your brain hadn't crystallized into language yet. But you mimicked their laughter, tilting your head and blinking your rock candy lashes as if you were in on the joke.

He named you after her, the one you were made to replace. You still don’t know what the name means, but when he says it, you always look up. They say you were sculpted to be her exact replica—not just in the way you sparkle or the way your knees knock, but in a deeper, more profound sense. They talk about it like a resurrection. But you’re not her. You're not anyone. Not yet.

Your body is fourteen years old, but your mind is something else entirely—something raw and new. You can learn, but it’s slow. You have to be taught everything: how to walk without your jaw unhinging, how to talk without crumbling, how to think without tasting every thought like lemon powder on your tongue. The others—the gum girls, fudge boys, toffee twins—were born knowing things. You came from the mines.

You’re the only one who’s candy all the way through. You were carved from the deep-core sugar veins beneath the island, where the rock hums and glows with a pink light. The Chief spent seasons sculpting your bones from spiced nougat, wiring your joints with bubblegum sinew, and glazing your eyes until they gleamed like glassy jellies. You remember none of it, but sometimes you dream of darkness and syrup and something scraping. A spoon, maybe.

When you first saw your reflection, you touched the glass with sticky fingers, expecting her to speak. You smiled, but she didn’t smile back. Neither did you. They say you’re special, which is why they don’t let you outside. They bolt the sugar-glass windows shut with caramel bars every night and post gumdrop guards at your door even when you sleep. You’ve never seen the candy cane forests or the bubbling soda springs. The only sky you know is painted on the ceiling, with cotton candy clouds that never move.

They say the outside world isn’t sweet enough for you—that the wind might melt your frosting, the rain might wash your mind clean, and a wrong look from a wrong person might make you crack. But you don’t feel special. You feel shelved, a display in a sugar museum: perfect, untouchable, and alone.

They dress you in her clothes—lace bonnets, ribboned boots, velvet skirts stitched with sugared thread. You don’t get to choose. The Chief says she loved pink, so you wear pink. Your hair is pulled into her braids every morning, and your scalp aches, but you don't complain. You learned not to, after the silence. The Chief’s punishments weren’t physical. He’d leave you in the corner of your sugar-crystal room, whispering to the doll in your lap, wondering if she used to sit there, too. He’d look at you for a long time, his eyes full of a love that felt like a cage. He’d call you his "little spark," his "second chance," his "perfect girl." He’d touch your face like he was afraid you’d melt. You wished you would. You wished you could drip into the floor and vanish through the cracks.

The others never said no to him. They’d kneel when he passed, bow their caramel heads, and say, “She’s the island’s blessing.” You didn’t feel like a blessing. You felt like a cage with gum walls and marshmallow locks, a secret kept on a velvet leash. Sometimes, you’d press your cheek against the sugar-glass and stare at the horizon, dreaming of a world you couldn't touch. They said the outside was dangerous, bitter, unsweet. But you wondered: if it was so bad, why did they try so hard to keep it from you? The Chief said your light must be "walked away"—sealed up, hidden deep where no sour hands could stain it. He said if you went out there, the world would take you apart, bite by bite. But you’d started dreaming of teeth anyway. Not theirs. Yours.

You awoke to shouting. Not the soft coos of the maids, or the echo of Gramps’ boots in the hall. This was sharp, wild, and real. The ceiling didn’t glow with morning lights. No candy-cotton birds chirped. Just silence, and then, far off, the sound of yelling. Angry, excited, panicked. Your knees wobbled as you stood, pressing your hands against the sugar-glass. The sky was the wrong color—real blue, not painted. Down below, there was smoke, fire, and marshmallow structures broken apart like brittle toffee.

Then you saw it: a black flag, a skull with a straw hat painted above it, flapping violently in the wind. Gramps’ words echoed in your mind: “When you see that flag, lock the doors. Close your ears. Don’t even think sweetly.” You stumbled back, a sticky fear curling in your stomach. Then, a crash. Your door exploded inward. Guards flew like candy shards, screaming. You fell to your knees, your sugar-rush heartbeat thundering in your ears.

He stepped in. Not made of jelly or fondant, but warm, tanned, and soft-looking. He had a scar under one eye and a smile so wide you thought he might split in half. He wore a straw hat. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You just stared at him.

“Hiiiii!” he beamed, waving. “Whoa—are you candy? Like, real candy?!”

“I… I think… I is?” you mumbled.

“Cool!!” he shouted, his boots crunching over crushed jawbreaker tiles. “You’re shiny! Like a jellybean but alive!”

You puffed out your chest a little, proud of yourself. “I… no… I is not jelly bean. I is… I am… I am candy person.”

The man grinned wider. “I’m Luffy! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

“Pie…rat?” you said slowly. “You gonna… make pie… right?”

He burst out laughing. “Nah! Pirate! Like sailing, treasure, fighting—y’know? FUN stuff!”

Your eyes widened. “Gramps says pirates is bad-bad. You take and crunch and melt.”

Luffy tilted his head, still smiling. “Sounds like a lotta rules.” He squatted to your level, his eyes curious and kind. “You looked lonely. You okay?”

You stared. No one had ever asked if you were okay. “I… don’t know,” you whispered. And for the first time in your candy-coated life, that was the truth.

The sound of boots thunder through the hallway. A crash. Voices. So many voices. A woman with orange hair charged in, followed by a long-nosed man, a tall swordsman, a tiny reindeer, and a man with swirly eyebrows.

“Luffy, you can’t just run ahead like—” The orange-haired woman stopped dead when she saw you. “Wait… is that…?”

You shrank back instinctively. The small one with the hat gasped. “W-Whoa! Is she candy?! She smells like sugar!”

The man with the cigarette looked you up and down with gentle eyes. “She’s… beautiful.” He added, “I just meant—she’s like a sculpture or something!”

“Looks like she’s alive,” the swordsman grunted.

You pressed yourself to the wall. “I–I not ‘posed to talk to many. Gramps say too much people make my head mush.”

“You okay, sweetheart?” the orange-haired woman asked, her voice softer now. “Do you live here?”

You looked at them, strangers, loud and bright like popping candy. “Gramps say… if I talk to pirates, he’ll lock me in the dark again.”

They all went still.

You looked down, your voice trembling. “He say outside hurts. That too much people ruin my shine. That if I go bad, he gotta… re-make me.”

“Remake… you?” the long-nosed man echoed, horrified.

“I don’t want to be melted again,” you said, your eyes wide, glossy, and pleading. “I promise I be good. I didn’t ask them in, please, I didn’t—”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Luffy stepped forward, his voice softer than you’d ever heard. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But it was too late. The air snapped like brittle sugar. You heard his boots before you saw him. Gramps. His coat flared like scorched molasses, and his eyes—usually warm drip and brown honey—were dark now. Wild. He was foaming, and his thick beard crackled with static, sugar-glitter flying off like sparks.

“You touch my creation?!” he boomed, his voice rattling the walls. “You invade my sanctum? You taint my granddaughter?!”

Your whole body locked up. You dropped to your knees. “I–I’m sorry, Gramps!” you cried. “I didn’t call them! They came! I stayed in the room like good girl! Please, don’t—don’t—!”

The swordsman was already stepping in front of you. “She’s scared of you, old man.”

“She’s mine!” Gramps roared. “I carved her from the core! I gave her breath! I built her!”

You flinched at every word. Your chest heaved. “Gramps…” you whispered. “I—I didn’t want to be bad…”

“You’re not bad,” the woman, Nami, said quickly, kneeling beside you. “You’re not. You’re just a kid.”

But your eyes darted to Gramps. You didn’t understand.

The Chief’s cane slammed against the ground. “You leave this place now, pirates, or I’ll reduce you to powder and start over. I always start over.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t move. You only knew what he had told you. You only knew his voice. Even if part of you, deep down, was starting to wonder… what if he was wrong?

Gramps was still screaming, his voice cracking through the sugar air like lightning. “She’s not for you! You don’t understand what she is! What I’ve done! You think you can just walk in and take my masterpiece?! She’s not candy, she’s not a child—she’s perfection!” You didn’t breathe. You didn’t move. Luffy’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving you. “She’s not yours,” Zoro said flatly.

“She’s mine. I shaped her. From the core. Do you know how long it took to make something that could learn? That could laugh? That could remember?!” His voice cracked again, eyes glassy. “She’s my little spark. My second chance. And even if you did take her, you wouldn’t last a day.”

You flinched. “I—” you started, but your throat burned.

Gramps turned on you, suddenly cooing. “Isn’t that right, little drizzle? You still get confused. You don’t even know what outside means, do you?”

You blinked at him, then at everyone. “I know…” your voice wavered, “what outside looks like.”

He laughed, a horrible sound. “She doesn’t even understand half your words. She repeats things she hears, strings them together like songs. She’s barely months old. A sugar child in a teenage shell. She’s still learning emotions. Still learning how to feel.”

“She’s not some porcelain puppet,” Nami snapped.

“She’s mine!” the Chief barked again. “She’s the only thing I’ve made that never melted. She listens. She stays. She doesn’t argue or rot or run away!”

You stared at him, eyes wide. The truth you’d been told so many times began to taste like salt. “I don’t want to melt,” you whispered. Luffy’s fist tightened.

Usopp stepped up beside you first. “Hey… do you like jokes? I got lots of those. Maybe I can teach you some.”

Chopper’s antlers wobbled as he stepped forward too. “Do you want to see a real forest sometime? I know one with giant beetles and no cages.”

“Kid,” Zoro said, glancing your way. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never have to hear his voice again.”

You stared at them all, then turned to Gramps. He looked… terrified. Not angry. Terrified. Because he saw it—a flicker of something new in your eyes. Something he didn’t shape. Choice. But your feet didn’t move. Not yet.

“No, no, no—look at me, little drizzle,” Gramps said, his voice sickly sweet. ��They don’t know what’s best for you. They’re strangers. I’m your Gramps. I’m your home. I made you, remember?”

Your lip trembled. “I gave you your name,” he continued, stepping closer, that too-wide smile crawling across his face. “I taught you how to walk. How to smile. I loved you when you were nothing but sugar shards and silence. Who else would do that? Who else would ever keep you?”

“That’s enough.” Nami’s voice cracked through the air.

Sanji moved first. One long stride forward, and he scooped you up before you could blink. “I got her!”

“Don’t you touch her!” Gramps howled.

But it was too late—Luffy was already there, planting himself between you and the Chief. “She’s not a thing.”

“She’s mine!”

“No,” Luffy growled, eyes dark beneath his straw hat. “She’s hers.”

You were pressed to Sanji’s chest, his coat warm against your sugar skin, a faint scent of spices in your nose. Large hands gently cupped over your eyes. You heard his voice in your ear—soft, steady. “Don’t look, sweetheart. Don’t listen, either, if you can help it.”

But you couldn’t help it. You heard Gramps scream. You heard the crash of a cane, the smack of bone against wood, the snap of candy glass. Then Zoro’s voice, cold as ice: “You ever talk about her like that again, and I’ll take your hands off at the wrists.” The wet crunch that followed was something primal.

Sanji’s hold didn’t loosen as he raced through the burning halls. You heard distant guards shouting, sugar cracking beneath your rescuers’ feet, smoke curling into your hair. But Sanji never let go. His voice was the only thing keeping you tethered. “You’re okay. We got you. You’re safe now, sweetheart.”

When you finally felt real sunlight on your face, you opened your eyes. There was a ship. A wide, golden lion’s face. A breeze. An endless stretch of ocean that wasn’t painted. You had never seen anything so terrifying. So beautiful. And behind you, back in the crumbling halls of the only world you’d ever known, you had left him. Gramps. You didn’t say it out loud, but inside your slowly-forming heart, one thought shimmered like spun sugar in the sun:

Maybe I’m not his anymore.

For the first time in your life, you felt real air—not perfumed or sealed inside sugarglass walls. It rushed past you in wild, whipping gusts as Sanji ran, his arms steady. You heard sea birds—not clockwork ones. Real, screeching, feathered birds. You heard the ocean, and it was louder than anything Gramps ever let you near. It crashed and breathed and rattled something loose in your chest, something you hadn’t known was stuck.

Then the light hit. Warm. Blinding. You peeked out from under Sanji’s coat. The sea stretched on forever—no edge, no walls, just blue on blue, sparkling like a candy dish thrown into the sun. You gasped.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” Sanji said, his voice shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline, but still kind. “Almost there. You’re okay.”

Then—wood beneath his feet. A deck. Yelling. A man with metal arms came running toward you. “Franky—she needs help!” Sanji called out. “We need a room for her, now. She’s in shock.”

They didn’t ask who you were. They didn’t scold. They just… helped. You didn’t know them. Not one of them. And yet, standing on that ship, you didn’t feel like her. You didn’t feel like the thing Gramps had made. You felt your heartbeat. You felt the sea. And you felt… like you. Whoever that was. Whoever she might become.

Sanji knelt beside you, brushing a smudge of sugar dust from your cheek. “You’re gonna be alright, okay?”

You looked at him. At the world beyond him. Then at your hands—shaking, sticky, alive.

“I… don’t know who I be,” you whispered.

Sanji smiled. “That’s alright. We’ll figure it out together.”

And for the first time, your smile wasn’t something someone gave you. It was yours.

Minutes passed in quiet stillness as you sat on the cabin floor. The hum of the ship and the soft murmur of voices felt like a gentle tide, steady and comforting. Jinbei knelt down and carefully poured warm tea into a delicate cup. “Here,” he said softly. “It’s gentle.”

You took the cup, the warmth spreading through your fingers. The smell was unfamiliar—earthy and soothing. You sipped slowly, your eyes wide.

Sanji hovered nearby. “You’ve never had normal food, have you?”

You shook your head. “No… Gramps… he always gave me candy. Said it was what she liked.”

Franky grinned. “Sounds like he tried to keep you stuck in the past.”

Jinbei nodded thoughtfully. “How old are you?”

You blinked, confused. “I’m… one month old. Maybe.”

Sanji and Franky exchanged surprised glances.

“He said I had to look like her,” you explained. “But I’m still new. Still learning. Still soft.”

Jinbei’s eyes softened even more. “That explains a lot. You’re a child in every way that matters, even if your shell tells a different story.”

You looked down, a strange mix of relief and sadness. “I don’t know anything but candy. I don’t know what else there is to eat.”

Sanji smiled gently. “Well, you’re about to find out there’s a whole world beyond sugar.”

Franky laughed, a booming sound. “And we’re gonna show you everything!”

Jinbei sipped his own tea and said quietly, “It’s good to have you with us, Y/N.”

For the first time, surrounded by people who didn’t expect you to be perfect or sweet or silent, you felt a flicker of something new. Something warm, like the sun shining through the cabin window. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of who you were truly meant to be.

The door creaked open, and Luffy stepped in. “Hey, how’s our new friend doing?” he asked, eyes bright with curiosity. Behind him came the others—Usopp, Chopper, Nami, and Zoro.

Sanji stood and straightened his coat. “She’s been through a lot,” he said quietly. “But she’s strong.”

Nami stepped forward, her voice warm but firm. “We’re going to take care of you now. No more cages, no more rules made by anyone but you.”

You blinked, overwhelmed by the kindness spilling from these strangers, these pirates who didn’t want to break you or remake you.

Luffy reached out a hand. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s show you the Sunny.”

You hesitated only a moment before letting him pull you to your feet. The deck was alive with salty breeze and endless sky. The ocean stretched on forever, inviting and terrifying all at once. You didn’t know where this journey would take you, but for the first time, you felt something soft unfurl inside—hope. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to find out who you really were.

The salty wind tangled in your sticky hair as you stepped onto the deck of the Thousand Sunny. The sun warmed your face, and the endless blue sea stretched out like a promise. Luffy bounded toward the figurehead. “Come on, Y/N! This is our home now! You can be anything here.”

Sanji hovered nearby. “And don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of food that isn’t candy. You’re going to love it.”

Nami adjusted her hat. “We’ll teach you how to read the stars, navigate the waves. You’ll be part of the crew.”

Zoro leaned against the rail, giving you a rare nod of approval. “Just don’t slow us down.”

You swallowed and looked back at the cabin, where you’d left so much behind. For the first time, you weren’t the perfect sugar-crafted doll anymore. You were Y/N. A child with a future. And the vast, wild sea was waiting to show you all the ways to be free.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself walking beside Nami and Robin. Nami’s voice was soft. “Y/N, we want to ask you something. Would you… like to come with us? To travel with the Straw Hats?”

Robin smiled, her eyes warm and patient. “We know it’s a lot to take in. But we believe you belong with us. Not as someone made for others, but as yourself.”

You stopped, your heart fluttering. The sea breeze tugged at your clothes. After a long moment, you nodded slowly. “I want to… try.”

Nami’s face lit up. “Good. We’re glad.”

Robin added quietly, “We all pray you find your own path. One filled with freedom.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “Pray? What’s pray mean?”

Nami laughed softly. “It means we hope—really, really hope—that things will get better for you. That you’ll be happy.”

You smiled, a small but genuine curve of your lips. Maybe this was the beginning. Of something new. And truly yours.

The first week aboard the Thousand Sunny unfolded like a dream stitched from sunshine and salty air. Evenings were your favorite time, when everyone gathered on the deck for dinner. You sat beside Sanji, watching in wonder as he served dishes that looked nothing like the sugary treats Gramps had fed you. You tasted everything—rice, fish, vegetables—flavors that burst like fireworks on your tongue. Sanji’s proud smile made you feel braver with each bite.

One night, as the sun dipped low, you pointed toward the sky. “What… those flying things? Birds?”

Robin smiled, eyes soft. “Yes, birds. They travel the skies, free like the sea.”

Nami leaned in. “They’re a sign we’re near land sometimes, or just passing through. They’re friends of the ocean.”

You watched the birds, a flutter of something warm and new stirring inside you. Days passed with lessons woven between laughter and chatter. Zoro patiently showed you how to hold a practice sword. Chopper explained the basics of medicine. Usopp spun wild stories. Franky showed you the engine room. Every evening, Nami and Robin helped you understand maps and history, teaching you words for things you’d never known existed.

Each answer felt like a key unlocking a world you’d only glimpsed behind your sugar walls. By the end of the week, the quiet fear that had gripped you since Gramps’ hold began to loosen. Here, on the Sunny, surrounded by people who saw you not as a perfect candy doll, but as a person, you began to feel something you never had before: home.

As the days passed, the Straw Hats began to notice the little ways your candy nature shaped your needs. One afternoon, Franky noticed you wincing after a long walk on the hot deck. “We need to keep her cool, or she might start melting,” Sanji said, wiping sweat from your forehead with a damp cloth. Nami rigged up shade sails. Jinbei brought you crushed ice and fruit juice. Sanji carefully balanced your plates with not only normal food but also little candies. Chopper mixed up a special “candy tonic.” Robin helped you practice gentle stretches to keep your bubblegum joints from stiffening.

It was strange, sometimes, being part candy in a world full of flesh and bone. But with each caring touch and thoughtful adjustment, you felt less like an oddity. More like one of them.

Life on the Sunny was loud, chaotic, and funny. Your first week brought more ridiculous moments than you could ever have imagined. The time Usopp told you to “stick to the plan,” so you literally stuck to the kitchen wall for two hours. Or the time you mispronounced “discipline” as “disco-plin,” and Luffy immediately burst into dance. You’d call Jinbei “Jin-bug” and Zoro “Snor-man.” You insisted on calling Sanji “Cinnamon,” and he never corrected you. You’d try to help Robin with her books and end up eating a corner of a thousand-year-old sea text.

But no one ever mocked you for these things. They just laughed. Lighthearted, happy laughter. The kind that didn’t make you feel small. You weren’t the strange miracle anymore. You were just Y/N. Sticky. Glitchy. Sugar-built. And part of the crew.

You had a way of talking that was just… sweet. Not in the kind sense, but literally. Every word felt dipped in sugar. It made the Straw Hats pause, tilt their heads, and smile. “Is this bed made of fluffmallow?” you asked one night. “I love the golden melties,” you said at breakfast, and Sanji knew you meant eggs. You saw the world in frosting and color, in texture and taste. And slowly, the crew began to understand that this was just how you thought. It made you… you. They didn’t need you to change.

The thing about you—something the Straw Hats were beginning to understand—was that your body looked like a teen’s, but your heart was brand new. Soft and shiny. Like a gumdrop just unwrapped. And sometimes, it showed. You’d ask endless questions: “Why do seagulls fly?” “What is a ‘job’?” “Why do pants have ‘pockets’?” You’d spin in circles until you fell over, giggling and dizzy. You couldn’t write yet. You tried once, and what came out looked like lollipop scribbles, which you proudly called your “name swirl.” When someone teased you, you’d gasp and say, “I’m melting! My feeeelings!” They’d laugh, but it was a real, happy laughter that didn’t make you feel small.

You were still learning what the world was. Still tasting it for the first time. Still figuring out what was safe and what wasn’t. And if they had anything to say about it, you’d never have to find out alone.

You didn’t realize your thoughts had changed—until one day, they didn’t feel like his anymore. It happened slowly at first. Things you used to accept without question began to itch under your skin. You sat on the Sunny’s railing with Robin, and she said, “You’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“My brain’s been buzzing,” you said, squinting at the sea. “Like… cotton candy in a soda pop. Only not sweet.”

You told her about Gramps’ “mind juice”—the things he poured into you to make you think faster, to make you more like his granddaughter. You told her how you started to know things, but he never liked it when you asked your own questions. Then you asked, “Is it okay to feel… angry?”

“Of course,” Robin said.

“Because I think I’m angry. A lot.” You swung your legs as a seagull cawed. “I didn’t think I could hate him, but I do. I hate him so bad it makes my cheeks feel hot.” You tapped your temple. “My mind’s getting faster, but it’s not his anymore.” You glanced at her, uncertain. “I think that means I’m… mine?”

Robin smiled gently and put a hand on your back. “Yes, Y/N. You are.”

And you didn’t know why, but the sea felt bigger after that. Like it had just enough room for a mind—quick and growing and finally free.

It happened like a sneeze—sudden, explosive, and completely out of your control. The crew was cornered on a rocky island. One of the bounty hunters slashed Zoro across the chest when he was distracted. You had never heard Zoro yell like that. Your sugar-laced heart dropped. You didn’t think. Something inside you cracked, like the thin layer of caramel on your skin shattering in heat. Your breath left your chest in a puff of white vapor. Your vision blurred, and suddenly—you were glowing.

Not pretty-lanterns-at-night glowing. Glowing like your veins were full of molten syrup and your eyes were pieces of crystallized honey, burning through the air. Your fingertips sparked, sugar-spun static rising off you in flickering webs. The rocks beneath your feet turned glossy, then melted into syrupy puddles. A burst of thick, iridescent sugar-glass erupted from around you, knocking people back. A high-pressure stream of boiling liquid sugar coated a bounty hunter like lava and froze midair into hard candy crystal.

By the time you came back to yourself, you were standing in a wide ring of glassy, melted ground, flickers of heat curling off your fingertips. Every bounty hunter was on the ground. Everyone was staring at you.

Zoro, blood dripping down his chest, smirked. “Well, she’s got bite.”

You blinked, then looked at your hands. The realization sank in, and you burst into tears. “D-Did I b-break the island?!”

“NO NO—” Chopper rushed forward. “You’re okay, it’s okay, you’re okay!!”

Franky whistled. “That was… super. I didn’t know you had that in you, sweet pea.”

You hiccupped. “I—I didn’t either.”

Robin knelt beside you. “Do you feel alright?”

“I feel… hot,” you sniffled. “And scared. And like… like my stomach is full of soda and lightning.”

Luffy was still smiling. “You’re strong,” he said simply. “Really strong.”

You looked up at him, blinking sugar-tears from your eyes. “…Am I gonna melt?”

He laughed, loud and sunny. “Nope. But you’re definitely one of us now.”

And that was the first time you realized you weren’t just a candy girl made to be pretty. You were a weapon. A ticking sugar-bomb with a heart full of feelings and no idea what you’d just become.

It happened fast. The fight with the Fangbloods started simple. But then one of them grabbed Usopp and put a blade to his throat. The man laughed, and you stepped forward. Your mouth opened, and a low hum rumbled from deep in your chest—a sound like cracking sugar. Your veins lit up. Your hands twitched, then exploded in a light too bright and too gold to be natural. Crystallized sugar mist burst out from your fingers, forming in sharp, shimmering threads that wrapped around the pirate and encased him in translucent, glittering amber.

Then the air dropped ten degrees. Another pirate charged, and you screamed. Not a scared scream—a sound scream. A raw, echoing pulse that crashed outward in a wave of golden pressure. The ground beneath your feet split open with a web of glowing caramelized fractures. Ribbons of hard candy surged from the cracks like roots, wrapping around the enemies and pinning them to the ground.

When it was over, you were panting, sweating, glowing faintly like a sugar lamp. The others were quiet. Even Luffy blinked.

“Whoa,” Chopper said softly. “That was…”

“Insane,” Franky muttered.

“You’re like… a candy hydra,” Usopp wheezed.

And Sanji, breathless, ran to you. “Are you okay?! Did it hurt? What was that—?!”

“I didn’t mean to…” you said, your voice shaking. “I just—he was hurting Usopp. And I got mad. I felt… fizzy inside. Like something was bubbling up. And then it just—came out.”

Robin stepped closer. “That was instinctual. Protective.”

“I didn’t know I could do that…” you whispered, staring down at your sticky hands. “I didn’t know I could do anything.”

Nami gave you a long look, then smiled gently. “Well,” she said, “you can.”

And Luffy just grinned. “Guess you’re not just candy, huh?”

You blinked at him. And somewhere, buried under the fear and syrup and light, something in your chest cracked—and this time, it wasn’t sugar. It was something else. Something real.

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

fools in love

word count: 2k

summary: you and Mark have been friends for the past 12 years and have been in love with each other for 10 of them. It really sucks that you two are idiots. Luckily, your competitiveness brings you together. Finally. (@sobbingscripter, your talk about friends-to-lovers with Mark caused this to come to me like a prophecy.)

It had been a slow day of crime, with no alien invasion or monstrosity taking hold of Earth. For once, it was a normal day, and Mark wasn't wasting a second of it. 

Because today, he wasn't Invincible, and you weren't a fellow hero. Instead, he was just civilian Mark Grayson hanging out with his best friend, who he was hopelessly in love with. And you? You were just another civilian, love-struck by your best friend.

To celebrate, you and Mark had spent the day happily browsing shops. Your arms now laden with books, trinkets, vinyl, and comics to add to your collections, and despite only carrying a few bags, the ever-gentlemanly Mark laughs as you wrestle with your load. 

“I swear, if you just stand there and laugh, I’m going to kick your ass!” You gripe at him, a scowl on your face. Marks continues his laugh as he comes and grabs the bags you were close to dropping. “Let’s get back to the car, you shop-acholic.” The playful smirk on his face causes your heart to skip a beat. 

As the last few hours of the day approached, you decided to picnic in a secluded park a few miles from town. You had been there for almost two hours, doing all the usual picnic tasks. Watching the clouds, pointing out their silly shapes, and observing the ducks as they waddled and swam away. Both of you breathed easily in the pleasant spring weather. 

An unsaid dread settled over you two as you realized the day was ending. Who knows what tomorrow will be like, and who knows when you'll get to pretend to be carefree again? You watched as Mark glared at the pond, his shoulders tense. You didn't need to ask him what was wrong; his face conveyed all his emotions. Not wanting to end the day on a sad note, you rolled the dice in your mind, trying to devise something to distract him. 

"Want to have a staring contest?" Your voice drifts softly through the quiet moment. 

"What?" Mark turns his attention back to you, one eyebrow raised, wondering if he had heard you correctly. 

"A staring contest. You know, trying to see who has the stronger eyes." You shrug your shoulders.

"I don't think that's what the contest is for." 

"I think it is, but we don't have to if you're too worried about losing."

"Who said I'd lose?" 

So now your eyes peer deeply into Mark's. The setting sun casting a warm glow on his face, catching the high points of his ivory skin and making his dark brown eyes shimmer like melted honey.

It's been forty-five seconds since you started your competition—a silent battle of dominance. 

"How long until you give up?" Mark asked, his voice dripping with cockiness. The little smirk on his face only fuels your desire to win. You debate in responding, wanting to keep all focus on keeping your eyes open. But you give in.

"Do you always talk a big game, or is it only when you know you're going to lose?" You copy his cockiness with a smirk. 

"Not to brag, but I do have amazing stamina. It's like the whole thing with Viltrumites." Clearly, Mark is using all his focus to keep his eyes unblinking, too. His mind missing the accidental innuendo. 

Dropping your voice an octave, you tease him, "Amazing stamina, huh?" A flush spreads over his cheeks, and his eyes widen slightly as he realizes. "Is that you talking big game again?" 

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"So you're saying you're shit in the sack?"

"No, I'm not- I- can we stop talking about me having sex?" Mark's face burned a fiery red; you could almost feel the heat radiating off him as he struggled to regain his composure. "Can we just focus on the game?" he muttered, trying to steer the conversation away from his embarrassing slip-up. Unable to suppress a laugh, you conceded, "Alright," you said, adding with a playful jab, "but you were the one that brought it up." 

More seconds pass, and you're both holding firm. Neither one of you hinted at needing to blink. The only downside of looking into Mark's eyes this long is that it drives your mind to think of wild ideas. And, of course, you're none the wiser that Mark is in the same situation as you. As his mind races, his heart begs him to lean in and kiss you. Even just your knees resting against each other has his heart racing.

Mark does not fail to notice when your eyes droop slightly and open wider than before. He mulls over teasing you before deciding it's the best idea. Leaning in closer, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You look like you could use a break," he says, his tone light and teasing. "If you concede," he mimics you from earlier and drops his voice an octave. "I'll spare you the humiliation." It’s your turn to flush. 

"How generous. Does that come with being a Viltrumite, too?" 

"Nah, that's just the type of guy I am."

In response, you exhort air through your nose, "Oh wow. Not only do you have great stamina, but you're also incredibly generous. How are you even real?" 

"Hey! We agreed to move past that!" Mark's face scrunches up at your treachery.

You're trying to ignore how close you are to Mark, but the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses and makes it impossible. Sure, you've been close before. Mark has carried you when you couldn’t stand from your injuries, and you've pulled him out of danger plenty of times. But this, this feels different.

A gentle breeze blows directly into your eyes, and the mintiness accompanying it gives away Mark's tactic. You gasp dramatically. 

"That's crazy! You're so worried about losing that you're trying to sabotage me!"

His voice is smooth, "I'm just breathing. No sabotage here." His tactic works, and your eyes begin to feel like sandpaper. He continues blowing gentle, minty breaths at you, and without thinking, you raise your hand to cover his mouth. 

The heat of his wet tongue, slick and warm against your skin, sends a flush creeping up your neck. Refusing to move your palm away leads to him narrowing his eyes and licking at your palm persistently, covering it with his sticky saliva. 

"Mark, that's so gross!" You exclaim, wrinkling your nose. You pray that the dramatic reaction prevents him from noticing your flushed face. You retract your hand, and Mark barks out a laugh. 

Fine, if he wanted to play dirty, you'd get messy. 

You lunge forward, hands pressing into his chest. The surprise of the action knocks Mark down onto his back, and he grunts as his back pushes firmly into the ground beneath him.

"I win!" You boast, your eyes shining brightly with no shame towards your winning method.

"You cheated!" Mark exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Like you weren't?" You arched an eyebrow at him. "I didn't assault you, though," he retorted playfully.

The excitement fades, and in the aftermath of the thrill, you register the weight of his hands upon your hips. Perfectly positioned atop him, your hands remain spread across his chest. A shiver travels down your spine at his touch, a sensation intensified by the warmth of his hands that you travel through your shorts. Lost in the moment with him beneath you, you lean in, your breaths mingling, the intimacy deepening.

With widening eyes, a look of dawning awareness spread across Mark's face as he registered the closeness of your bodies. Leaning closer, you cause his breath to catch, and the air itself seems to vibrate with the unspoken, charged energy that hangs heavy between you. His gaze drifted to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes, leaving an unspoken question hanging in the air between you.

Are we about to do this?

You search his eyes for any sign of doubt, but all you find is yearning. Taking the next step, you lean in and press your lips against his. His lips feel just as soft and warm as you had imagined they would. The connection between your lips feels like matching puzzle pieces, making it seem as if you were made for each other.

His right hand raises to gently cup your face, his left hand firmly pressing against your hip, and your heart pounds rapidly in response to his touch. Unconsciously, your fingers dig into the muscle on his chest; Mark feels like he could die from the pleasure of the simple action. Your lips move perfectly against his. He deepens the kiss, with his tongue gently tracing the outline of your lips. Shivers run down your spine, and your body erupts in goosebumps. You bask in the warmth of his body against yours. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment.

You're the first to pull away. Mark raises his head, attempting to keep your lips together. You're both breathless and flushed, your eyes meeting his with a newfound intensity. The world around you fades into a distant hum as you both struggle to regain your composure, the kiss lingering between you like a tangible presence. 

Climbing off of him, you shuffle back to your side of the blanket. Mark sits up, scratching the back of his neck with his hand. You both start speaking simultaneously, "So-" and "Uh-" overlapping. There's a pause as you look at each other.

Despite your best efforts to resist, a giddy smile crept onto your face, and you found Mark mirroring that same expression back at you, a reflection of your own joy. Even the distance could not diminish the intense flush of heat that colored both your and Mark's cheeks.

"Can I kiss you again?" Marks asks, already crawling on hands and knees toward you. 

"Please do." You bit your bottom lip as you watched him. 

Once he’s in your space, he kneels, and you crane your neck back to look at his eyes instead of his chest. Instead of going straight for your lips, he showers the right side of your face with gentle, whisper-like kisses, a warm, tingling sensation spreading with each touch. He switches sides. His lips slowly graze over yours, and then he’s peppering kisses all over the left. You can’t help but giggle at the sensation and how crazy it is that your best friend for the past twelve years is now smothering you in kisses.

His lips graze yours, sending shivers down your spine, and a groan escapes your lips, a silent plea for his touch. Luckily, the message is received loud and clear. His lips finally meet yours. He is gentle at first, but soon, Marks begins fervently kissing as if he can’t get enough of you. You fist at his shirt, and the world melts away as you lose yourself in Mark Grayson again.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours, a sigh escaping his lips. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispers. You smile at him, eyes shining bright with adoration. “I’m sure I could take a guess.” 

With the sun’s descent below the horizon, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers swept over you and Mark, leaving you in the cool embrace of the spring night. The crickets’ chirping filled the air, a lone frog croaked from the nearby water, and fireflies blinked like tiny stars.

“I guess we should be leaving soon, huh?” You look at Mark and now feel the dread of the evening ending. 

“We can stay for a bit longer,” he murmured, breathing in your sweet scent.

So you lay under the blanket of stars, his strong arm an anchor to this moment. You felt the comforting warmth of his body and the soft, sweet pecks on your forehead.

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 11

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 6.7k

Trigger warning; mention of clipping, violence, blood

notes; Hey hey hey, back with this hmm hmm special chapter, surprisingly (or not hehe) I truly enjoyed writing thing one (I'm sorry y/n). Well I'm not going to spoil anything but I hope that you will enjoy that one. Also I had a question because I'm already writing the following chapters, would you rather have a long chapter or two different (with one posted one day and the other the day after) ? Well you guys tell me because i'm struggling a bit haha. See you soon, love you ! (I love soooooo much your comments btw <33333)

previous ✧ next

The last day at the palace was filled with bittersweet goodbyes and heartfelt promises. Each healer expressed their gratitude, their voices tinged with emotion as they pledged to stay in touch and continue the work you had all started. Veras, the healer from the Winter Court, clasped your hand firmly, his icy-blue eyes glinting with determination. “Keep pushing forward, Y/N. You always manage to lead us to the right path.”

Even Rordan, the reserved healer from the Autumn Court, offered a rare smile. “We’ll hold up our end of the agreement. Stay safe.”

Amara pulled you into a quick hug, her hazel eyes soft with concern. “Don’t let the weight of it all crush you, Y/N. You’ve got this.”

Lila from the Spring Court, ever vibrant, waved energetically. “Don’t stay away so long this time, alright?”

Lastly, Telyan gave you a steady nod. “The Dawn Court is always open to you. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

The warmth of their words stayed with you as you made your way back to your room to gather your belongings. The setting sun painted the city in hues of gold and orange, casting long shadows across the polished floors. As you finished packing, you paused by the window, drawn to the breathtaking view of Solterra one last time. The bustling city was beginning to quiet, the glow of its lights preparing to welcome the night.

A soft knock on the door startled you, and Azriel stepped inside, his presence commanding yet quiet. His gaze flickered to you and then to the window, where dark clouds were rolling over the distant horizon. “It looks like the Peregrins’ warning was accurate,” he murmured, his voice low. “The winds will be rough on the usual route.”

You nodded, your eyes lingering on the storm clouds. “It’s going to be a detour by the sea, then. Let’s hope it’s calmer there.”

Azriel joined you by the window, both of you staring at the ominous clouds in silence. The moment felt heavy, but not unpleasant. The bond hummed faintly in the background, but you pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

“Ready to go?” Azriel finally asked.

“Almost,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Let’s head to the entrance.”

The two of you made your way through the palace’s grand corridors to the main entrance, where Thesan was waiting. His warm smile greeted you, and he stepped forward to clasp your hand. “Safe travels, Y/N. I trust you’ll keep us updated.”

“Of course,” you said with a smile. “Thank you for everything, Thesan.”

His gaze flickered to Azriel, and he extended his hand to him as well. “Safe travels to you too, Shadowsinger. And thank you for watching over her.”

Azriel nodded, his expression polite but distant. “It’s my duty.”

With that, the two of you stepped outside, the crisp evening air brushing against your skin. The city stretched out before you, the pale light of the moon casting an ethereal glow over its winding streets and gleaming spires. Azriel turned to you, his gaze steady. “Ready?”

You nodded, though the prospect of being carried by him again made your stomach flutter with nerves. “Ready.”

He scooped you up with practiced ease, his strong arms securing you against his chest. The bond hummed faintly, a quiet reminder of the connection neither of you spoke of. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the sensation of the wind rushing past as Azriel launched into the sky.

The flight was calm despite the warnings, the gentle light of the moon illuminating the path ahead. The vast expanse of the sea shimmered to your left, its waves glinting silver under the celestial glow. Night had fully fallen by the time you broke the silence.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you said softly, your voice carried effortlessly over the wind.

“It is,” Azriel agreed, his tone contemplative. “More than I expected.”

The two of you flew in silence for a while longer, his steady heartbeat under your ear a soothing rhythm. The bond hummed again, but you pushed the feeling aside, unwilling to let it complicate this moment.

When Azriel adjusted his grip slightly, you glanced up at him, catching the faint flicker of a smile on his face as he gazed out over the sea. It was a rare sight, one that made your own lips curve upward despite the tension that had lingered between you.

For now, the world below and the open sky above were enough.

The flight had been calm, serene even, with the moonlight casting its ethereal glow over the endless expanse of the sea below. But just as you were about to comment on how peaceful it was, the first crack of thunder echoed through the sky. The world seemed to shift.

A storm rolled in with a ferocity that took your breath away. The wind howled, whipping rain against your skin in icy sheets, and the sea below churned violently, its waves reaching toward the heavens in jagged crests.

“Azriel...” you began, your voice unsteady as you glanced at him. “Is this—”

And then, everything stopped.

Azriel’s wings, which had been beating powerfully just moments before, froze mid-stroke. The storm itself paused—a thunderclap suspended in the sky, waves frozen mid-crash. Time itself seemed to hold its breath, the silence deafening.

Your heart hammered in your chest as a bone-deep chill swept over you. A presence, ancient and suffocating, made the air feel impossibly heavy. You glanced over Azriel’s shoulder, and your breath caught.

There, in the distance, was a figure—no, a cloud, a mass of shadows and darkness so pure it seemed to absorb all light around it. It wasn’t just death—it was the embodiment of it. The aura it emitted was a promise of annihilation, and your very soul seemed to recoil in its presence.

You wanted to scream, to shake Azriel, to do anything to break whatever spell had gripped the world. But before you could act, you saw something else—arrows. They were suspended in midair, dozens of them, all aimed directly at you and Azriel.

Panic set in. You reached out to Azriel, shaking him desperately. “Azriel! Wake up! Please!” But he remained still, unresponsive, his wings unmoving as though he were a statue.

Your powers surged within you, raw and untamed. You didn’t know how to control them fully, but you didn’t care. A flash of light erupted from your hands, desperate and unrefined, and suddenly, the world roared back to life.

The arrows hurtled toward you with deadly precision, slicing through the air. You barely had time to think. Your hand darted to Azriel’s side, pulling one of his swords free. The blade felt foreign in your hand, but you didn’t hesitate.

You swung with all your might, deflecting the first arrow with a desperate clang that vibrated through your entire arm. The second arrow grazed your shoulder, pain searing as blood blossomed against your skin. The third arrow you managed to divert just inches from Azriel’s wing.

Azriel’s body jolted as time resumed, and his wings beat frantically, his shadows exploding outward in a frenzy. His head whipped around to you, confusion and alarm etched across his face as he took in your disheveled state and the arrows that clattered into the sea below.

“What the—” Azriel began, his instincts kicking in as his shadows swirled defensively around both of you. “What’s happening?”

Azriel’s voice snapped into focus as you both realized the barrage wasn’t over. “Hold on!” he shouted, his wings beating frantically to dodge the incoming arrows. “We need to go down, now!”

You didn’t hesitate, gripping his shoulder to balance yourself as he angled sharply downward, the wind howling past you both. But the next volley of arrows was relentless. Two found their mark, piercing Azriel’s shoulder and causing him to let out a guttural growl of pain. One scraped across your cheek, leaving a sharp sting, before another embedded itself in your shoulder, the force nearly knocking you loose.

The shock of the impact made your body jerk, and you gasped, clutching at Azriel as he faltered in the air. “Y/N!” he called, his voice strained with both pain and desperation, but his hold slipped as your strength gave out.

You fell.

The rush of air around you was deafening, the world spinning wildly as you plummeted. Pain bloomed in your back as three arrows found their mark, their sharp points slicing through muscle and bone. You screamed as your body twisted uncontrollably in freefall. Above, Azriel’s shout of panic was drowned out by the roar of the storm, and you saw him struggling to stabilize himself. An arrow tore through one of his wings, the force sending him spiraling after you.

The sea rushed up to meet you, and the impact stole every ounce of air from your lungs. You plunged deep into the icy water, your body screaming in protest as the salt stung your wounds. The weight of the arrows and the force of the fall left you disoriented, the dark depths pulling at you as you struggled to make sense of up and down.

Forcing your limbs to move, you clawed your way toward the surface, your chest burning with the need for air. You broke through with a gasp, the storm still raging above. Waves crashed violently around you, and the rain made it almost impossible to see.

“Azriel!” you called, your voice hoarse and barely audible over the tempest. A moment later, he surfaced a few feet away, his wings dragging heavily in the water. His face was pale, his expression both pained and frantic as he swam toward you.

“You—are you—” His words were broken by gasps for air, his golden eyes scanning you with a mixture of fear and determination. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” you managed, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’ll survive.” You gestured weakly toward his shoulder and the ragged tear in his wing. “But you—”

“Fucking faebane arrows,” Azriel spat, his tone laced with frustration as he glanced at his injuries. His shadows flickered weakly around him, their usual strength noticeably absent. “They’ve nullified everything. I can’t... I can’t fly.”

Before either of you could say more, a monstrous wave rose behind you, its crest curling ominously as it towered over your heads. “Azriel!” you screamed, the sound ripping from your throat as the wave crashed down with brutal force.

The impact was like being slammed by stone. Water closed over you, spinning you in its unforgiving depths. When you finally surfaced again, coughing and gasping, you were farther from Azriel than before.

“Y/N!” His voice carried over the storm, laced with urgency. He was swimming toward you, his strokes powerful despite his injuries.

You fought to stay afloat, the pain in your back making every movement a struggle. “Azriel!” you called, your voice weak but determined as you tried to close the distance between you.

The storm showed no mercy, the waves tossing you both like rag dolls. When you finally managed to get close enough, you saw the fear etched into Azriel’s face. It mirrored your own.

“We’re not getting out of this,” he said, his voice low and grim as the sea surged between you. “Not like this.”

“We will,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction. “We have to.”

But the storm’s ferocity didn’t waver, and the reality of your situation settled like a weight in your chest. With no magic, no wings, and no sign of land in sight, the vast, chaotic ocean seemed determined to claim you both.

The relentless assault of smaller waves battered you both, sapping what little strength you had left. Your muscles burned, and every gasp for air felt heavier than the last. Azriel was barely keeping himself afloat, his wings dragging in the water like dead weights. And then, beyond the churning sea, you saw it: a massive wave rising like a wall of destruction, its shadow swallowing everything in its path.

Azriel followed your gaze, and you saw it in his eyes—the change. It wasn’t just fear of the wave’s size or its inevitability. It was something deeper, rawer. A realization, perhaps, that this might be the end. That you might both die here, together. Or maybe it was something more—a dawning understanding of what you were to him. His mate.

But there was no time to dwell. You reached out, grabbing his hand as tightly as you could, your fingers trembling with exhaustion and urgency. “Azriel,” you said, your voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “Look at me.”

His gaze snapped to yours, the golden glow of his eyes filled with turmoil. You pulled him closer, your hand clutching his with desperate strength as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Trust me,” you whispered, your breath mingling with his. His shadows flickered weakly around you, their touch almost hesitant, as if they, too, feared what was coming. You closed your eyes and began to recite, the ancient words of power tumbling from your lips like a prayer. The language was old, older than you could comprehend, its cadence resonating with something primal, something greater than yourself.

Azriel’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his touch hesitant but grounding, his thumb brushing lightly against your hair. His wings twitched weakly in the water, but he stayed focused on you, on your voice.

You began to speak, the ancient words spilling from your lips like a song, like a plea. The language was unfamiliar even to you—something buried deep within, rising now in your moment of need.

The words trembled with power, the sound resonating in the air around you, vibrating through your very bones. Azriel held you tighter, his hand now spanning the small of your back, pulling you closer against him as though to shield you from what was coming.

Azriel tried to keep his focus on you, his hands gripping your arms for stability. But the thunderous sound of the approaching wave was deafening, and the force of its presence was palpable, pressing against the air itself. He could feel it nearing, every second stretching unbearably long. His instincts screamed at him to turn, to face the incoming force, but you held him steady, anchoring him with your voice and your touch.

“Don’t look away,” you murmured, your words a promise as your free hand rested against his cheek, grounding him further. The wave loomed over you both now, its height so monstrous it seemed to touch the heavens. Azriel’s eyes darted toward the towering wall of water, and you saw his grip on you tighten—not in fear of the wave, but in fear of losing you.

His shadows curling weakly around both of you in an almost protective embrace. The wave loomed, impossibly large, and for a moment, you thought you’d failed. You could feel Azriel tense, his wings attempting to fold around you both even in their weakened state.

But then, just as the wave began its descent, the power surged through you. The words reached their crescendo, and the light of the moon flared, not as a shield, but as a portal.

A flash—a blinding, all-encompassing glow—and the icy embrace of the storm disappeared. The roar of the wave faded, replaced by silence and stillness. You and Azriel were gone, ripped from the sea’s grasp, leaving only moonlight in your wake.

The town house was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the chill of the winter night outside. The scent of roasted meat and spices wafted through the air, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. The Inner Circle was gathered around the dining table, their laughter and conversation filling the space with a sense of home.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, a half-empty glass of wine in his hand, his brow furrowed as he glanced at Rhysand. “So, when are they coming back?” he asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity. “It’s been days now.”

Rhysand, seated at the head of the table with Feyre beside him, swirled his wine thoughtfully before taking a sip. “They should be on their way back to Prythian by now,” he replied, though his tone wasn’t as confident as his words.

Mor, who was perched on the edge of her chair, arched a golden brow. “Should be? What do you mean, should be?”

Rhys sighed, setting his glass down and rubbing a hand over his face. “I haven’t been able to reach Azriel,” he admitted. “His mental shields are still up, and I can’t get a clear sense of where they are.”

Feyre frowned, her fork hovering over her plate. “That’s... unusual for him.”

“It is,” Rhys agreed, his violet eyes flicking to Cassian. “But Azriel is nothing if not careful. They’re likely taking their time or dealing with unforeseen delays. The journey from the Dawn Court isn’t exactly quick.”

Cassian snorted, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Unforeseen delays, huh? I’d bet my wings they’ve found some trouble along the way. Knowing Az, he’s probably brooding about something, and Y/N is too busy trying to keep him in check.”

Mor chuckled softly, though her eyes reflected a glimmer of concern. “I wouldn’t be surprised. That male has a talent for finding trouble—or letting it find him.”

Amren, who had been silent up until now, set her glass down with a deliberate clink. “Trouble or not, Y/N is more than capable of handling herself. From what I’ve seen, she’s sharper than most. If anything, I’d wager Azriel is the one who’ll be struggling to keep up.”

Cassian grinned, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to that. Poor Az, stuck with someone who doesn’t let him get away with his usual brooding nonsense.”

Feyre couldn’t help but smile at the banter, though her fingers brushed against Rhysand’s under the table in silent reassurance. “Still,” she said softly, “I hope they’re okay. It’s been a while since we’ve heard anything.”

Rhys nodded, his gaze distant for a moment before he refocused on the group. “They’re both strong. If anyone can handle the unexpected, it’s Azriel and Y/N.”

Mor leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand. “I just hope they’re not killing each other,” she quipped. “Or, you know, that Az hasn’t scared her off with his silent brooding routine.”

Cassian barked a laugh, shaking his head. “If anyone could out-brood Azriel, it’s probably Y/N.”

The table erupted in laughter, though the undercurrent of concern remained. As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Feyre caught Rhys’s eye, her own filled with a quiet question. Rhysand gave her a small, reassuring smile, though his thoughts lingered on Azriel and Y/N, his mind brushing against the night’s stars as he silently hoped for their safe return.

The lively warmth of the town house was shattered in an instant. Rhysand shot to his feet so abruptly that his chair clattered to the floor behind him. The easy conversation and laughter ceased as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Everything on the table vanished—a soundless flash of magic clearing plates, glasses, and food from sight.

In the same moment, a deafening crash echoed through the room. From above, two figures fell, slamming into the now-empty table and shattering it into pieces.

Y/N landed first, sprawled atop Azriel, both of them drenched to the bone, seawater pooling around them. Their chests heaved as they struggled for breath, their bodies trembling. Y/N pushed herself off Azriel weakly, staggering to her feet before abruptly doubling over to vomit a mix of seawater and blood onto the floor.

Azriel remained on the ground, gasping but visibly more stable than her. His wings were tense but intact, though blood seeped from arrows embedded in his shoulders and arms. He coughed, spitting water onto the floor as he tried to sit up.

Cassian surged forward, his voice a low growl of concern. “What the hell happened?”

Y/N, barely steady on her feet, turned her head, her voice raw and hoarse as she rasped, “Madja... Call Madja.”

Feyre moved immediately, her face pale but focused. Before she could leave, Y/N weakly caught her hand, murmuring a list of plants she needed. “Feyre... There’s no time. From the garden—fetch what I need to start the healing.”

Feyre nodded without hesitation and bolted out of the room.

Y/N stumbled toward Azriel, her trembling hands faintly glowing with healing magic. But before she could reach him, her knees buckled. Cassian was there in an instant, catching her just before she hit the ground.

“Y/N, stop!” Cassian growled, his voice filled with panic. “You’re worse off than he is.”

“Doesn’t... matter,” she rasped, trying to push him off and weakly reaching toward Azriel. “He needs—”

Cassian held her firmly, his face a mask of alarm. “You’re bleeding everywhere. You’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” she hissed, though her head lolled to the side, her strength draining rapidly.

Azriel, sitting up now, looked over at her with wide, alarmed eyes. “Y/N,” he croaked, his voice breaking. “Stop. Just—stop.”

Mor knelt beside Azriel, carefully inspecting the arrows in his shoulders and arm, while Rhysand stood frozen for a heartbeat, his expression betraying the fear he usually masked so well.

Madja burst into the room moments later, her sharp eyes scanning the chaos. The instant she saw Y/N, her expression hardened. “Mother above,” she murmured, rushing to her.

“Start with him,” Y/N wheezed, gesturing weakly toward Azriel. “I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing,” Madja snapped, kneeling beside her. Her hands moved deftly over Y/N, assessing her condition with a precision that belied her worry. “You’re barely conscious. Don’t even think about giving me orders.”

Azriel, still struggling to his feet, waved Mor away weakly. “I’m fine,” he insisted, his voice strained but steady. His golden eyes locked onto Y/N, and despite the blood trickling down his arm, his focus was entirely on her. “Take care of her.”

Madja glared at him briefly. “Sit. Down,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Amid the chaos, Y/N’s defiant voice broke through. “Azriel... Is he—”

“I’m fine,” Azriel interrupted sharply, his voice firm. “You’re not.”

Madja growled under her breath, barking instructions to Rhysand to reinforce the room’s protective wards and to Feyre, who had just returned with an armful of plants. Cassian held Y/N steady as Madja worked to stabilize her, and Mor hovered close, ensuring that Azriel didn’t try to move too much.

The tension in the room was thick as they fought to manage the injuries and exhaustion. Every glance exchanged between the Inner Circle was filled with unspoken worry, their usual composure shaken.

“You both have a death wish,” Cassian muttered, though his grip on Y/N was firm and protective.

And as Madja’s magic flared to life, it became clear that survival was only the first step in a much longer battle.

Madja knelt beside you, her sharp gaze scanning the damage. Her hands hovered over the arrows lodged in your back, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Go see Azriel,” you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Madja’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with irritation. “Shut up, Y/N. You’re losing too much blood, and if you weren’t in this state, I’d slap you for suggesting something so foolish.”

You coughed weakly, a humorless smile tugging at your lips. “Just... take the arrows out and put me under the stars. I’ll be fine.”

Madja’s eyes narrowed, her exasperation palpable. “If you die because of that nonsense, I swear I’ll bring you back just to kill you again.”

She began assessing the arrows embedded in your back, her movements precise but brisk. “Can I remove your top?” she asked, her voice softening slightly.

You nodded, the movement weak. “Go ahead.”

As Madja carefully eased the fabric away, the pain lanced through you, but it wasn’t what made you tense. The moment your back was fully exposed, you felt the atmosphere in the room shift. Even without seeing them, you knew Rhys, Feyre, and Cassian had seen the scars. The room seemed to hold its breath as their silence deepened.

Their reactions were palpable—Rhys’s grip on his magic tightened, the faint hum of power crackling in the air. Cassian let out a sharp exhale, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with something much darker. Feyre’s sharp intake of breath carried the weight of her empathy, her hand instinctively reaching for Rhys.

Madja worked quickly, her hands steady as she muttered incantations under her breath to stem the bleeding. You clenched your teeth, the pain threatening to pull you under, but you forced yourself to stay conscious just a moment longer.

“Tell them,” you murmured, your voice slurring slightly. “Tell them what happened.”

Madja’s gaze flickered to yours, her expression unreadable, but she nodded once, her attention returning to her task.

Azriel stood frozen nearby, his shadows writhing in agitation. His face was pale, his usually composed features betraying the turmoil within him. His golden eyes flicked between you and the others, but it was clear that his focus was on you.

When Madja pulled the last arrow free, your body shuddered, and the darkness pressing at the edges of your vision began to consume you.

Madja straightened, brushing a hand across her brow. “She needs to be somewhere she can rest and heal without interruption.” 

After hesitating for only a moment Azriel told her “Let me take her to my room. It’s the closest” 

"You will do no such thing Azriel let me take her” Cassian tried to stop him. 

“No, please, no” with confusion the general let him do so. 

His shadows curled around you protectively as he carefully lifted you into his arms. You barely stirred, your body limp against him, your breaths shallow but steady. The sight of you like this sent a pang through his chest, but he buried it, focusing on the task at hand.

As he carried you upstairs, his mind was a storm. The bond that had hummed quietly between you since Solterra now roared with clarity, overwhelming him. You were his mate—and he hadn’t seen it until now. And the sight of you, broken and bleeding, was almost more than he could bear.

When they reached his room, Madja followed close behind, already giving him instructions. “Lay her down gently, and I’ll finish tending to her wounds.”

Azriel placed you carefully on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. As Madja worked, he lingered nearby, his golden eyes never leaving your face. The scars on your back, the fresh wounds, the exhaustion etched into your features—it was all too much. His shadows coiled around his shoulders, mirroring the storm within him.

When Madja finished stabilizing you, she turned to Azriel, her expression softening for the first time. “She’ll need time to recover, but she’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

Azriel nodded, his throat tightening. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Madja patted his arm gently before gathering her supplies and leaving the room. 

After coming back in the living room of the townhouse, Azriel sat at the edge of the chair, his elbows resting on his knees, wings drooping with exhaustion. His soaked clothing clung to his frame, and blood still oozed from the punctures left by the arrows, though Madja worked quickly to close the wounds.

Rhysand stood near the fireplace, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, the tension radiating off him palpable. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low but sharp.

Azriel’s jaw clenched as he considered his words. “You should ask her,” he finally said, his voice gruff. “Everything was fine. The storm came out of nowhere, but it wasn’t the weather that was the problem.”

Rhys’s violet eyes darkened, his power flickering faintly around him. “Then what was?”

Azriel exhaled sharply, frustration evident. “We were flying. The storm was manageable until...” His golden eyes lifted to Rhys. “Until the arrows came. Y/N moved out of position suddenly—I didn’t understand why at first—but then she was deviating arrows midair. One clipped me, and the next thing I knew, we were falling into the sea.”

Cassian, who had been silently listening, stepped closer. “Arrows?” he repeated, his voice heavy with concern. “You’re saying someone attacked you in the middle of a storm?”

Azriel nodded, his shadows curling tightly around his shoulders. “The attack wasn’t random. Whoever it was... they knew we’d be there.”

Rhys’s face grew even grimmer. “Koshiev.” The name hung in the air like a curse. He glanced at Azriel, his expression unreadable. “Even if you were caught in the crossfire, this attack wasn’t for you, Azriel. It was for her.”

Azriel’s gaze sharpened, and his hands curled into fists. “Why would Koshiev target her? She’s not a warrior. She’s—”

“She’s more than you realize,” Madja interjected, not lifting her eyes from her work. She sealed the wound in Azriel’s shoulder with precise movements, her tone calm but carrying an edge of urgency. “Do you have any idea the influence she has? The help she’s provided?”

Cassian frowned, glancing between them. “We know she’s a gifted healer, but why would that put her in Koshiev’s sights?”

Madja straightened, her hands pausing over her tools. She glanced at Rhys and then back to Azriel. “Over the last century, many of the continent’s most deadly diseases have been stopped in their tracks because of her. She’s discovered cures where others saw none, saved lives on scales most can’t even imagine. To a being like Koshiev, who thrives on death, fear, and chaos, she’s a threat. A formidable one.”

Azriel’s shoulders stiffened, his mind racing. “But that doesn’t explain—”

“It’s not just what she does,” Madja interrupted, her voice softer now. “It’s what she is.”

Rhys’s brows furrowed, his focus narrowing on Madja. “What do you mean? What is she?”

Madja hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the staircase where you rested. “It’s... complicated,” she said carefully. “But suffice it to say, she’s not an ordinary healer. Her connection to the stars, the moon, to the light—it’s something ancient, something powerful. Something that beings like Koshiev despise and fear.”

Azriel sat back, his gaze fixed on Madja as if searching for answers in her words. His mind reeled with the implications, his thoughts a storm of emotions—fear, frustration, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

Rhysand’s expression darkened further, his hands tightening into fists. “If Koshiev sees her as a threat, then we’ll need to protect her. More than we already have.”

“She’s not going to make it easy,” Madja said with a wry smile. “That woman has a will stronger than steel. But for now, she needs rest. And so do you,” she added, fixing Azriel with a pointed look.

Azriel didn’t respond immediately. His thoughts lingered on you, on the weight of what Madja had said, and on the realization that the attack tonight had been meant for you. He rose from the chair, his wings drooping slightly but his stance firm. “She’ll be safe,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a steely determination.

Cassian clapped him on the back, his grip firm. “Damn right she will.”

But even as the conversation shifted, Azriel couldn’t shake the unease that settled deep in his chest—the knowledge that Koshiev’s shadow loomed closer than ever.

Cassian leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed tightly as he stared at the empty space where you had been carried upstairs. His voice broke the silence, low and heavy. “The scars on her back... are they what I think they are?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his golden eyes darkening as he glanced away. He didn’t need to hear the answer; he already knew. His shadows curled tighter around his shoulders, betraying the tension he felt.

Madja sighed, her hands stilling over her tools as she met Cassian’s gaze directly. “Yes. She was clipped.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, palpable and suffocating. Rhysand straightened, his violet eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and confusion. “Clipped?” he repeated, his tone sharp. “How? When?”

Madja leaned back in her chair, her expression weary. “It’s a long story, but if you’re asking how it’s possible... it happened when she was young. Very young.” She hesitated, her gaze softening. “I first met Y/N when she was six, maybe seven years old. Her parents had just died in the aftermath of the war. She was left alone, one of the many orphans wandering Prythian at the time.”

Cassian frowned, his grip on his arms tightening. “She’s from Velaris right?”

Madja nodded. “Yes, but it wasn’t a kind childhood. She ended up in one of the only orphanages we had here. I... I wanted to adopt her, but I couldn’t.”

Rhysand’s gaze narrowed, his tone gentler now. “Why not?”

Madja exhaled slowly, her hands clasping tightly in her lap. “Because I could barely take care of myself. The war had taken everything from us—our peace, our sleep, our stability. I couldn’t bring a child into that chaos, no matter how much I wanted to. But I could teach her.”

Azriel’s eyes snapped back to her, the flicker of surprise evident despite his stoic expression.

“I taught her to heal,” Madja continued, her voice softer now, tinged with something almost maternal. “She was brilliant at it. Gifted, really. Even as a child, she had this... this innate understanding of life, of how to mend it. Time passed, and she grew stronger. Wiser. By the time she was seventy-two, she was already a better healer than many twice her age.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, his expression conflicted. “So what happened?”

Madja’s expression darkened, her voice lowering. “She went to Illyria.”

The tension in the room spiked immediately. Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, and Cassian and Rhysand exchanged wary glances.

“She wanted to visit her parents’ tomb,” Madja said. “To pay her respects. But... it didn’t go as planned. I don’t need to describe the scene to you. You’ve seen what happens to half-Illyrians or even regular Illyrian females who return to those camps.” Her voice broke slightly, but she pressed on. “They clipped her. Left her for dead in the snow.”

Rhysand’s power surged faintly, the lamps flickering as he struggled to contain his fury. “They clipped a healer?” His voice was deadly quiet, his rage barely restrained. “And left her to die?”

Madja nodded, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of sorrow and pride. “She did die.”

Cassian’s breath hitched, and even Azriel stiffened. “What?” Cassian whispered, his voice hoarse. “But—”

“But she came back,” Madja interrupted, her voice steady now. “The Mother brought her back. And with that gift, she was given powers unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Powers tied to the stars, the moon and the sun themselves.”

Azriel’s shadows stilled, his mind racing as he processed the revelation. Rhysand’s jaw tightened, his fury still simmering beneath the surface. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?” he demanded.

Madja’s gaze hardened. “Because it wasn’t my story to tell. And it still isn’t. But perhaps now you’ll understand why Koshiev might see her as a threat. She’s not just a healer. She’s a force of life itself, blessed by the mother and that terrifies beings like him.”

Silence fell over the room, the weight of Madja’s words sinking into each of them. Cassian broke it first, his voice quieter now. “And she’s carried all of this... alone?”

Madja’s eyes softened. “Not entirely alone. But yes, for the most part.”

Azriel sat back in his chair, his mind a whirlwind of emotions—anger at the injustice you had suffered, awe at the strength it must have taken to survive, and something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to confront.

Rhysand finally spoke, his voice resolute. “Then we protect her. Whatever it takes.”

Madja nodded, her expression resolute. “She’s not one to ask for help. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need it.”

Azriel’s shadows curled around him protectively, his voice low but firm. “She’ll have it.”

The office was bathed in the dim glow of Velaris’s nightlights, the rhythmic scratch of Rhysand’s pen the only sound as he finished his missive to Thesan. Azriel sat in a chair across from him, his posture rigid but his mind clearly elsewhere. He had bathed and changed into clean clothes in a spare room at the townhouse, but the physical comfort did little to soothe the storm raging within him. His thoughts spun, caught between the weight of your injuries, the attack, and the seismic realization that you were his mate.

His mate.

The words felt heavy and unfamiliar, both a revelation and a burden. You. The healer who had worked tirelessly by his side. The one who had challenged him, comforted him, and stood unwavering even in the face of Koshiev’s deadly arrows.

Rhysand’s voice cut through the silence, quiet but heavy with guilt. “Azriel.”

Azriel lifted his gaze, his expression impassive. Rhys set his pen down, turning his full attention to his brother.

“I was wrong,” Rhysand admitted, his tone raw. “What I said to you before... it was cruel, thoughtless. You’re my brother, and you’ve stood by me through everything. You didn’t deserve that.”

Azriel inclined his head, acknowledging the apology but saying nothing. Rhysand studied him, his regret clear in his eyes. “I know words don’t undo the damage. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to mend what I’ve broken.”

“It’s fine,” Azriel said softly, though his voice lacked conviction. He gave a brief nod, more out of obligation than genuine acceptance. Both of them knew that wounds like these took time to heal, if they ever fully could.

A silence settled between them again, heavier this time. Finally, Azriel broke it, his voice quiet but firm. “She’s my mate.”

Rhysand froze for a beat, then slowly leaned back in his chair. A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips, though it was far from mocking. “I know.”

Azriel frowned, his shadows curling tighter around him. “You knew?” he asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

Rhysand’s smile softened. “It wasn’t hard to see, Az. The way she looks at you... it’s the same way I used to look at Feyre when she had no idea we were bonded. Y/N did an incredible job masking it, I’ll give her that. But I’ve been in her shoes. I know what it looks like.”

Azriel’s frown deepened, his mind racing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Rhysand’s gaze turned serious, his voice calm but pointed. “Would it have mattered? Look at how you’ve been with Elain. Do you think Y/N would have told you when she saw you pining for someone else?”

Azriel’s heart clenched, the memory of all those moments with you suddenly taking on a new, painful clarity. Rhysand continued, his tone gentler now. “Why do you think it took me so long with Feyre? I wouldn’t have told her while she was still talking to me about how in love she thought she was with Tamlin. It would have been cruel.”

And then the full weight of it hit Azriel. He had asked you, his mate, for advice about Elain—another woman. You had listened, offered him wisdom, and concealed the pain of your bond so flawlessly that he had never suspected a thing.

A knot of guilt and self-loathing twisted in his chest. He had done a terrible thing.

Azriel leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head dropping into his hands. His shadows swirled restlessly around him, mirroring the turmoil within. Rhysand watched him silently for a moment before speaking.

“You didn’t know,” Rhys said softly. “And she never wanted you to feel obligated. But you know now, Az. What you do with that knowledge... that’s up to you.”

Azriel lifted his head, his golden eyes filled with conflict. “I don’t deserve her,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Rhysand.

Rhysand’s gaze softened. “You might not feel like it now. But that’s not for you to decide, is it? It’s hers. Just... don’t wait too long to figure it out. Bonds don’t wait forever.”

Azriel nodded faintly, though the weight of the conversation pressed down on him. The image of you—wounded, determined, and selfless—lingered in his mind, a reminder of the strength and grace you had shown even when it must have cost you everything.

And now, he realized, it was his turn to figure out what came next.

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[pizzaapeteer]

maybe a little drabble or oneshot about theo who's usually not shaken by anything or anyone but he get's super flustered when confident!reader starts flirting with him💕

Gobsmacked TN

a/n: hehe loved writing this, muah bb for the idea and thanks to @suugarbabe for helping me with some of the dialogue <3 cute divider found here wording: 840 Warnings: f!reader

He watched from afar, eyes drinking in your every move, the lively chatter that bubbled around you, laughter buzzing from the surrounding audiences. Mostly aggregating sucks ups who sought advantage in your kindness, at least that was Theo’s clouded impression. His fingers lift the dying cigarette to his lips, inhaling the last sweet release of nicotine as it fills his lungs. 

The afternoon sun shone upon you, radiating the sweet glow of your face, the epitome of sweetness displayed in your expressions. His eyes stayed trained on you, struggling to comprehend how someone could be so mesmerizing, even by the little things they did. From the way you walked gracefully, with a spring in your steps or to how you carried your books, a generally simple task, could entice him in, admiring the way you held them close to your chest tenderly, almost protectively. 

Merlin, you were fucking pretty. 

At the sight of you departing the crowd and heading inside, Theo stood with eager legs following you, ambling afterwards with a determined goal set in place. Flicking the butt of the cigarette in the nearby bin, his mind whirled with positive thoughts. Today was the day he’d speak to you. You had been quite the challenge in trying to approach, that was clear by the multiple of others accumulating around you. Something Theo wasn't used to, making him stall his advances. 

Not that Theo was afraid of seeking you out amongst a crowd, knowing undoubtedly, he could grab a girl's attention, even in a throng of other guys. Confidence wasn’t what he was lacking, but rather he found gratification in hitting on a girl alone. Quite presumptuous of him, relishing in the cat-and-mouse ploy that occurred, watching a girl get flustered from the direct, intimate conversation. 

Theo knew now as he trailed behind you entering the library that once he got you alone, he’d be able to win you over. It normally only took one or two lines before a girl was swooning at his feet, and from how he had studied you, he was quite convinced you wouldn’t be any different. His usual surge of confidence pulsed through him while he made his way towards the desk you had situated yourself at. Helping himself to a chair he sat, his tall frame looming over you even while seated. A brash grin stretches on his face as he opens his mouth to give his signature line. 

Taken by surprise at the sudden interruption, the sound of a chair creaking and the darkness that loomed over your lighting had you lifting your eyes, instantly consumed by a vision of deep blue eyes gleaming. The infamous debauchery Theodore Nott had been anything but subtle lately. It had been easy to take notice of the tall boy observing you within the shadows of his own Slytherin pack. You knew he was probably there to give you a line but instead chose to beat him at his own game. 

“Oh, if it isn’t the Italian Stallion himself,” a small smirk graced your plush lips. “That is what they call you, isn’t it?” Tilting your head in a cheeky manner, watching a pink hue cross over the freckles of Theo’s cheeks. “Well, I am flattered to have caught your undivided attention. It is my attention you want, right? That’s why you’ve been staring at me all those times. So sweet can’t seem to take your eyes off of me, can you honey?” You watch his cheeks flush redder, his mouth parting slightly. It was an amusing sight, seeing someone who oozed confidence freeze up, causing you to smile complacently.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty boy? You’re looking a little shaken up there for a confident lad like yourself.” You couldn't resist the opportunity to continue teasing the flustered boy rendered speechless at your bold words. Unable to help yourself, your hand reaches across to pull out a trick you’d seen him do a dozen of times, caressing his face gently, you tauntingly move his jaw side to side playfully.

“Aw, are you blushing? Is this the first time? Am I witnessing a momentary occasion in history?” You keep going, voice laced with a distinct mockery, and hints of sarcasm with your sharp tongue on a roll, basking in his silence. It takes all your strength not to explode into a fit of giggles as Theo's jaw still hangs open. Moving your fingers, you push at his chin, closing his mouth for him. “Don’t go catching flies, Theodore.” Your eyes gleam with a playful tease. 

His astonished expression marks your cue to leave, as you gather your belongings, not wanting to spoil the moment, soaking in the satisfaction of playing Theo at his own game. At your leave into the depths of the library, Theo stays sat behind at the worktable, watching your figure disappear amongst the scrapers of bookshelves. Wracking his brain on how the bloody fuck you had just bested him at his own game. And why it made him that much more infatuated with you.

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ theo masterlist. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2024.

[simonskitty]

cw: mdni, age gap (legal) , male receiving, no aftercare, dubcon mention

Toji is forced to do community service on a local farm, and you happen to be the next door neighbor

Thinking of pervert Toji who got in trouble doing something illegal (most likely stealing from a poor family owned business because this dude has no money) and since it was a small infraction, community service was the price he had to pay for his actions. So now, he’s spending his time working on the towns local farm for the summer. Toji is occupied by the pigs, cows, maybe even the occasional croak of a rooster, as well as you, the adorable little thing who happens to live directly across the street from the pleasant farm, and who crosses the street like a baby chick to assist the old folks that operate the place.

Toji seeing you talk so sweetly and oh so gently to the little animals as if they could understand your every word, the critters scattering around you like you were some kind of disney princess.

It wasn’t until he saw you softly wrap your small, delicate fingers around the bases of the mama cows nipples to milk her, that he fully lost control. Seeing you so meticulously care for the soft tender buds that sat in your palms made something feral ding off in his head like the bell wrapped around the start of the cow’s neck.

He was friendly at first, trying his best not to come on too strong and scare you away. Slowly but surely becoming part of your life whenever you stepped foot into the yard in which he weeded. And soon instead of wrapping your fingers around the nipples of the mama cows, you were wrapping them around Toji’s cock that had been straining against his mud covered overalls all afternoon.

He’d take you by your braided up pigtails and drag you up to the hayloft like you were just a loan piece of straw, throwing you over his sweaty shoulder in the process. Your poor knees covered in soot and wet grass from being dragged around like some old rag doll kept in the attic.

Toji would make your poor shaky hands unclip the straps of his overalls, of course not wearing anything under (cuz he’s a slut haha), cock springing out, hitting your sniffly nose like it was taunting you. Just looking at it seemed like a daunting task to fit all of him in your mouth.

Even though your inexperienced with this, you are in fact experienced with milking the cattle. Just like how you milk the cows, right? Only Toji’s cock is much. . . larger than the cows nipples. You wrap your pretty fingers around his length, taking it slow to try to figure out how the hell you’re gonna do this. But, Toji is an inpatient little fucker. So, his fingers, still dirty from shoveling earlier in the day, grasp into your hair like the tines of pitchfork.

“Open.” It’s a forceful grunt, one that you could barely make out the words. You open your mouth like you were taking orders from a sergeant. Senses overwhelmed immediately when the unfamiliar length is shoved into your mouth. Toji is not trimmed whatsoever. Rough hair from his belly that only gets more unruly when you make it to the eight inches below.

He doesn’t care about the gags that come from deep inside you, or the fact that the back of your throat is probably bruised from the amount of times his tip has hit it. The wetness of your tears hit his thighs which gives him some sick kinda pleasure, scarred lip quirking up as his hand repeatedly yanks you up and down his length.

Overwhelming emotions take over you as the corners of your lips stretch, the thought of chapstick right now seemed almost as pleasurable as an orgasm that you prayed Toji would bring you to in the future. Fog clouds your brain, hands squeezing down on the base of Toji’s cock making his head go back as a deep groan left his body, followed by the intense come that represented the pleasure you had given him.

Lips swollen and bubbling fat tears that sat on the brims of your eyelids as your head his pulled up from him. A well deserved pat to the side of your hip with a praising, “Good girl,” before Toji climbs down from the loft, leaving you to think of what sins you committed that afternoon.

© simonskitty

[astral-realities]

would you mind telling us about your architects?

SDA: Of course. My architect, Golden Thread in an Ornate Tapestry is...

SDA: ...was…

SDA: …a person of many talents. Her interest in art and fashion allowed her to become a well-known designer. In addition, they were tasked with my development, and dare I say - she did great.

SDA: She was …. a lovely person to be around. I’m proud to call them my friend.

BROS: (What they won’t tell you is that she became an architect mostly due to their mother’s status…)

BROS: (… who happens to be the main engineer of Vastness of Silence…)

HS: Eleven Claws, Eternal Grace. Though he usually went by just “Grace”.

HS: While there were those who deemed his approach to some matters controversial, he was an important figure in the scientific community.

HS: His team and I worked hard to help him fulfill his visions.

BROS: (Habitually Stargazing has too much respect for his creators to admit Grace was not a very pleasant person to be around…)

TFB: Spring after Storm, Ruby Blossoms Flourish.

TFB: There isn’t much for me to say about them.

TFB: They pioneered a couple of gene alteration algorithms, I suppose. Many of the creatures in my area are the descendants of their experiments.

BROS: (Flowers wasn’t very fond of her creator, though I believe she never spoke of this disdain directly. She continuously worked on her tasks while they were still around.)

BROS: (Oh, my turn!)

BROS: This is Quicksilver Rains from Dark Clouds! We usually called her Rains. Or Clouds, or Silver, or anything in between.

BROS: As you can guess, she’s my architect! Legend has it she built me due to her dissatisfaction with the quality of medical care in the area.

BROS: Rains strived to improve the quality of life of those around her - though she’d never admit she actually cared about them that much! She was a rather reserved person, but if you got to know her and her sense of humor, it was great.

BROS: I do miss her at times.