#Third wave preview

[madamechrissy]

Emperor! Gojo chap one preview

preview of the fic based on the Emperor! Gojo headcanons!

Fic is here

pairings- emperor! Gojo x reader

warnings- heavy heavy angst and past loves, hurt eventual comfort, story will be smutty and messy ofc, this is gonna be a long ass story lol I lied abt 4 parts

The pretty, intricate tea cup swirls with amber liquid, you’re gently spinning your little gold spoon in it, as you wonder at the time. It’s your second cup of tea, as you wait for him - your husband to be, the Emperor Gojo. You don’t know anything about him aside from tales of his military exploits, and you have heard he’s very young still. Some say he’s handsome, but you can’t say you care.

The memories of the love you left, the family you left behind, to now be surrounded by strangers, was brutal, lingering pain mixing with the terror of being in a new country. You are trying to understand their customs, their cultures, luckily you know their language, but you miss your home terribly. You miss feeling safe in the castle you grew up in.

Mostly, you miss him - your guard, the man you’d just finally started to kiss, he’d started to explore your body when you two had the briefest of moments. You thought you’d run away with him, only to be dragged here, without a chance to do more than leave him a letter of farewell, and now you’re waiting for a man for - it must have been an hour - sipping on your third cup of tea.

Everything is immaculate in this place, your chambers, the pavilion itself, covered in blues and whites, the colors of the Gojo family. You were greeted friendly enough, shown your new ladies in waiting, as yours were not allowed to come, the palace itself was under constant high security. They didn’t welcome outsiders, and you can tell they don’t welcome you.

Having been whispered about, talked about as you walked through the lively pavilions, passing many workers and ladies who bow to you, before whispering behind your back. It’s as if everyone smiles to your face, then starts gossiping - and god do you hear all of it, even now, the three ladies standing behind you murmur to each other behind their fans.

He’s an hour late, he’s not coming!

What an insult… he’s probably with his favorite concubine!

Concubine Lola, it must be.

What if we worked for her - her pavilion-

“Could you all please stop?” Your words have the three girls gasping, you don’t even look back at them, tracing your fingers along the pretty rose patterns of your tea cup, of the little dish under it. You scoop some of the honey in a little dish, watching it roll gently into the tea, still steaming up with puffs of condensation.

They quiet down, or their whispers are quieter you should say, as you sit there in your immaculate gowns, the highest of fashion. You were done up with make up, your hair piled high in the latest fashion with the prettiest blue pin that had been bestowed upon you from him - from Gojo - through a servant of his.

Yet, here you are, alone.

Your mind drifts as you wait, as you eye the elaborate tarts that the cook has whipped up, sitting there untouched, your tummy hurting from the nausea rolling over you in waves. How could you just leave Suguru behind? Did he get your letter? He always knew there wasn’t much hope, but you were the one littered with wild ideas, the hopeful one.

He kissed your neck the last time you saw him, toying with you under your skirts - the style back home was many voluminous ones, and he had no problem finding your clit under them. He’d drank in your quiet little whimpers as his violet eyes looked down at you, his other hand at the nape of your neck when you’d said it - I love you.

He had kissed you quiet, having you cum for the first time, the memories make you heat up and blush. You’d both had to separate, and that’s the night you found out you had to leave your home forever. Not just another territory or land, no - an entire country, a five day trip on ship and two days on land to get here. A man who clearly has no interest to even show up.

Suddenly, a beautiful woman with long white locks comes in, smiling kindly at you, she has brilliant blue eyes - so blue they’re enchanting. You quickly recover your thoughts, standing as well, palms just a little sweaty as you bow your head, and she does as well, decked in the color blue, her hair falling just a bit in front of a beautiful face.

“Former Empress Gojo,” she greets then, she comes over to kindly take your hands, you smile nervously. “I’m so sorry, my son is… occupied… and will not make the meeting.”

“Oh, I see,” you are seething - can he not walk a few steps to greet you after the week it took? But you hold it all in, keeping your composure and smiling, as her ladies whisper behind her to your ladies - god the court is gossipy. “Is he well, your majesty?”

“Don’t be so formal, I’ll be your mother in law soon.” She kindly smiles, but you hear the whispers.

He’s with all of them?

At once? Scandalous!

Do they get along that well?

“Ladies,” his mother chides them, like a sweet mother duck, and they instantly quiet, she looks at you, tilting her head. “You are most beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you Lady Gojo.” You bow your head again.

“And such manners, you’ll do well.” You wish her words made you feel better, but they don’t.

You just want to fucking go home.

[l4ndoflove]

ln4 and 72 please 🙏

ocean eyes

feat. lando norris

lyrics preview there are two different types of "ocean eyes": magui's, icy perfection, and... lando's

maddie i really can't write a happy one-shot for my life :|

1405 words

next track ⏭️

It started stupidly enough, like most things did when it came to Lando.

You were sprawled out on the floor of his apartment, chest rising unevenly after he’d made you laugh for an hour straight, the movie you’d put on earlier only adding to your chaos as it kept playing in the background, long forgotten.

Everything—from the sound of his high-pitched chuckles to the smell of cheap takeout spring rolls—felt so familiar it was almost like being sixteen again: just the two of you, some junk food, and a bad rom-com you never actually watched, too busy mocking the corny lines to care about the plot.

Except now, it wasn’t just the two of you.

“Ugh.”

Magui’s groan echoed through the room like a cruelly timed reminder of her presence, making your head snap up from the carpet.

She was curled up on the couch, golden locks framing her face in perfect waves even as she tossed and turned restlessly, clearly struggling to find a decent angle for the selfie you figured she was trying to take.

You didn’t say anything, leaving Lando the honor of being the considerate boyfriend he always was.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Right on cue.

Your best friend jumped up from his spot beside you, resting his chin on the cushion where the blonde lay while staring at her with the same questioning gaze of a lost puppy.

“It’s just… why is the lighting here so bad? I mean, look at my eyes—they’re not supposed to be gray!”

The Brit squinted at the phone his girlfriend had shoved in his face, tilting his head to the side as he carefully inspected her reflection on camera.

Then, he entered the frame.

“Damn, look at this beauty,” he smirked, winking at himself through the screen.

Magui scoffed and pushed him away. “You’re not helping.”

“And you’re mad that my eyes look better than yours.”

You almost expected him to stick his tongue out at her like a toddler—so of course he did. Having known Lando for nearly all your life had taught you quite a few things about him (some you weren’t very proud of).

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re a sore loser.”

“You’re blind.”

“You’re blind.”

God, it really felt like you were third wheeling—scratch that, babysitting two children who constantly bickered over the most random things. It was entertaining, sure, but draining in the long run.

“You’re neutral. Sort this out.”

You didn’t realize they weren’t speaking to each other anymore until you felt both their gazes fixed on you, your brows furrowing in confusion at the sudden request.

“I–what?”

“You’re neutral,” Magui repeated, slower this time, like you were a little slow yourself for not understanding something so simple. “So you get to decide whose eyes are better.”

Your heart stuttered, almost as if it knew something you didn’t and was trying to warn you.

“Neutral? She’s literally my best friend!”

You silently thanked Lando for pointing it out, though something in that sentence grated on your ears like chalk on a blackboard—loud and out of place.

“Exactly,” the blonde nodded, her voice sugary sweet, “which means you won’t have any… effect on her since you’re just best friends, right?”

Every single word that left her mouth was calculated, aimed straight toward—what? You weren’t sure yourself, and that scared you more than anything else.

“Yeah, makes sense.”

Okay, that might actually be worse.

You opened your mouth to try and talk some sense into both of them, but Magui beat you to it.

She leaned down so that you were at eye level, elbows propped on her knees as she held her face between her hands, waiting.

Waiting for what, you asked yourself, your approval?

Not that she needed it: her eyes were strikingly beautiful, two captivating gemstones that reflected even the faintest specks of light, no matter how “bad” it was. The kind only princesses in fairy tales and models on magazine covers had, and that everyone fell in love with at first sight.

Including Lando.

Looking at her now, you didn’t find it hard to understand why.

“They’re… really pretty.”

You weren’t lying, and judging by the unimpressed expression on her face, Magui knew it. Who would’ve ever dared to say otherwise, after all?

“Alright, alright, my turn,” the Brit waved her off, already scooting closer to where you were sitting.

Too close. Definitely closer than he needed to be, anyway.

Classic Lando—getting in your personal space since when you were younger just to annoy you. Poking your cheeks when you were upset to earn a smile from you or making weird faces that would always make you laugh even after the worst arguments.

Your logic said you should’ve been used to him acting this way—but that didn’t seem to stand a chance against the storm raging in your chest.

“Get out of my face, Norris.”

Please, you wanted to add, but that first sentence already sounded more desperate than you intended it to.

“What, you can’t handle my handsome face?”

No, you couldn’t.

You couldn’t handle his stupid face being so close to yours, your noses almost touching, breaths mingling together.

You couldn’t handle knowing by heart every little detail of it, from the moles scattered across his cheeks and jawline to the shape of his lips—which you should’ve never looked at in the first place.

But most of all, you couldn’t handle his eyes.

Even after you’d grown up mirroring yourself in them, watching you both age and change, they still managed to mesmerize you every time.

Maybe it was how those unfairly long lashes grazed his cheekbones whenever he blinked, or the deep blue edges that faded into a green so light anyone could miss it if they didn’t pay enough attention. You couldn’t really tell.

They were a different kind of pretty from Magui’s, though—two icy lakes against the warm sea of his gaze, an ocean you’d learned how to swim in long before, but that was now pulling you under its familiar waves.

And you let it, hypnotized by the way his irises didn’t reflect light like hers: they captured and shattered it into a thousand bright gold flecks that adorned his pupils like the petals of a sunflower.

You loved them.

You loved... him.

The realization hit you so violently that it nearly knocked all the air out of your lungs, leaving you more breathless than you already were.

You loved Lando Norris.

Your best friend.

Magui’s boyfriend.

Your mind was screaming so loud you were afraid the other two could hear you through the charged silence that had fallen over the room.

It was unbearable.

You had to say something. Anything–

“Your eyes have a little green in them.”

You didn’t recognize your voice when you spoke—because you didn’t.

“Fucking movie,” you muttered, grateful you finally had something else to focus on. “Scared the shit out of me.”

That was the safest option, playing it off with humor. Like you always did. Like Lando had taught you: take the hit and cover it up with a smile.

You scrambled to your feet as if the carpet had burned you, dusting off invisible pieces of lint only you could see, hoping that the feeling of the boy’s stare on your skin would magically go away as well.

“Hey–where are you going? You didn’t even tell us who won!”

The excuse you were about to give him immediately died on your lips at the sight you caught when you looked up from your feet.

It played out in front of you in slow motion, just like one of those dramatic scenes you used to make fun of with Lando all the time: Magui reached out for him from the couch, cupped his jaw with her fingers and made their lips collide into a kiss.

And that’s when you knew she knew.

Because she wasn’t showing affection to her boyfriend—she was staking a claim on what was hers after seeing how much you wanted it, too.

When she pulled away, slow and deliberate, her cold eyes pierced right through yours.

“So?” she cooed, honey dripping from her voice. “Who won?”

You held her gaze. Swallowed your pride and the tears already clouding your eyes. Then you smiled, bitter.

“You. Congratulations.”

This wasn’t about your silly competition anymore.

It never had been.

© 2025 l4ndoflove. all rights reserved.

[bbydoll18xx]

I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 3)

Paige takes advantage of your employee discount.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1 - Paige stumbles into a sex shop you work at, and you give her some satisfactory customer service.

Part 2 - You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: smut, use of sex toys, small amount of fluff and humor if you squint

A/N: heyyyy everyone, I have had lots of requests for a part 3, so here it is! This little series has been so fun to write. I left it a little open-ended in case I wanted to write one more small blurb to go with the first 3 parts ;)

~

The deep purple strap lays lewdly on the counter, waiting for you to pull away from Paige’s grasp to ring it up. So far, she had pulled you back into the kiss three times, and since she had shattered any resolve you could have possibly mustered up, you were happy to let her continue as she pleased. 

When she lets you go, her firm grip on your hips loosening to rest heavily on the curve of your waist, you look back toward where the toy is sitting. Picking up the plastic, you look it over, realizing she had picked a normal strap, and you shake the toy in derision. 

“P, you can’t buy this one,” you say in a chiding tone, and her face changes from a look of pure content to confusion. 

“Why the hell not?” She questions. “It’s big and purple. And it’s on sale!”

You struggle to hold back a laugh. Despite her growing wealth, Paige was always looking for a bargain, and the dichotomy overcame you with giggles and a deep sense of fondness for her. 

“It doesn’t have a vibrator on it,” you explain. “I want you to feel good, too, while you’re fucking me,” you say as you drop your voice down to a sensual whisper. 

Paige bites her lip, already imagining the scenario you had laid out in front of her, and she glances back to the display of straps. 

“Go get one,” you demand. “I’ll add my employee discount for you,” you add with a grin. “Just want my pretty girl to feel good.”

Paige looks down at you through long lashes and dilated pupils. “I can think of a few things you can do to make me feel good, baby.”

~

As it turns out, Paige’s imagination was both vivid and straight up filthy. 

Her moans rang hollow through the room as she grinded onto your face, gripping your hair with a fierce determination that added to your desperate need to make her cum. 

Your tongue flicked at her clit with speed and precision as you pumped in your two longest fingers, trying to draw out her second orgasm of the night. As the tips of your fingers brushed up against her most sensitive spot, her hips bucked forward once more, another wave of arousal coating your chin.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me,” you mumble against her sex, looking up at the blonde. Her skin was flushed under the glow of the lamp, and her eyebrows were furrowed in both pleasure and concentration. 

She looked breathtaking. 

Your fingers continue to pump in and out in an unceasing rhythm, and you suck her engorged clit into your mouth, savoring her taste and the groans that fall from her mouth. 

“F-fuck,” Paige stutters, her hips faltering along with her words as the pleasure builds. “Almost there, ma, keep going,” she whines, sucking in a sharp breath as you add a third finger. 

You eat her out hungrily, getting drunk on the taste of her, as her whimpers and groans grow louder and louder, becoming absolutely sinful. You feel your own slick begin to coat your inner thighs, a smutty preview of what was to come. 

With a few more direct flicks of your tongue gliding across her swollen, drenched clit, Paige cums, her back arching off of the bed in a shudder of pleasure. Your name leaves her mouth, making you think that this must be what heaven feels like. 

And you hadn’t even been touched by her yet. 

As her breathing evens out, you watch her from between her still-parted legs, cleaning up the mess with kitten licks and soft, open-mouthed kisses. You trail your mouth back up her toned stomach, across the smooth, pale skin of her neck, landing on those plush, pink lips, swollen from your previous messy kisses. 

It was sensual, like nothing you had ever experienced before with anyone else, and it had awakened something inside of you. 

You sincerely hoped you and Paige would have that once in a lifetime type of love. Because you seriously doubted you’d be able to have sex with anyone ever again. 

“Babe, your mouth’s so much better than that vibrator,” Paige huffs out, still catching her breath, and you grin as she strokes your ego. You had prided yourself on being a great pussy eater, and it certainly did not hurt to hear it from the mouth of a beautiful girl. 

“Let’s see how good your cock is,” you taunt, licking your lips as you gaze at her. You had been fantasizing about the thick, purple rubber plunging into you and filling you up since Paige had thrown it haphazardly on your store counter. You didn't think you’d survive without it much longer. 

And because Paige had a primal need to be the best at everything, she was desperate to prove to you that no one was going to dick you down like she could. 

She reaches to her bedside table and grabs the strap, standing up to put it on. You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as she tightens it, and as she goes to experimentally stroke the fake cock, you feel the wetness trickle out of you.

It was like an extension of her; nothing had ever looked or felt more right than it did in this moment. Your heart begins to race as she stands at the foot of the bed, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk. 

She reaches for your legs, pulling you forward so your butt is right at the end of the bed. “Can’t wait to make a mess of this pretty, little pussy,” she whispers, gliding the tip of the strap through your soaked folds. 

You moan out as it brushes against your clit, bucking your hips for more contact. “Stop teasing,” you whimper. 

Paige chuckles, glad to be getting a rise out of you. “But teasing is so fun,” she whispers in your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

But before you could moan out in protest, she rams into you, spreading your thighs to make room for her body plowing into yours with the strength and stamina only an athlete would have.

You can hear the vibrator attached to the base of the strap buzzing lowly, cutting through your own whines and pants of pleasure. Paige grinds against it, and the action hits your g-spot, sending sparks shooting through your entire body. 

“Fuck, P, no one does it like you,” you whimper, your hand coming up to pull her down to meet your lips in a messy, searing kiss. 

As she continues her assault on your sopping pussy, the filthy sounds fill the room, joining the euphonious music of both of your moans, meeting together in perfect harmony.

You weren’t one to ever really believe in fate or that dumb soulmate shit. But you were pretty sure this was the real deal. And the simultaneous peak of your orgasms nearly confirmed it.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good on my cock,” Paige groans, reaching down to roughly grab at your tits. “You gonna look at me when you cum? Gonna cum on my cock with my name spilling from your pretty, little mouth, huh?” 

Your pussy squeezes at her words, and you feel yourself nearing the edge. “God, yes,” you breathe out, your voice an octave higher than normal, as tears pool in your eyes from the sheer pleasure. Her blue eyes are swimming with want as she stares down at you.

“C’mon, baby, let go. Don’t be shy” she grits out, pushing down on your belly, feeling the bulge of the large strap inside you. 

You cum loudly, your back arching off the bed. Your moans fill Paige’s bedroom as you ride out your highs together, both trying to sustain the eye-contact as you do so. 

Sex had never been so intimate for you before, and while you’re usually left with a feeling of dread and overall ickiness, this time had been drastically different. You wanted to be close to Paige, to feel her warmth and to kiss and cuddle her.

She pulls out of you, taking great pride in seeing how much slick had accumulated. You catch your breath as she grabs a damp washcloth, wiping down your sore pussy with gentle precision you had never gotten before. 

“That was perfect,” she whispers, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your temple, and your heart flutters as you acclimate to the peace that Paige provides. 

“It really was,” you agree as your eyes flutter close from both exhaustion and tranquility. 

~

"Paige, you can't put a fucking sex swing in your apartment."

"Well, why not?" Paige whines indignantly, as you shoot her down for the third time this week.

You sigh, trying to ignore the creeping feelings of fondness in your chest for the blonde girl. "Because what would Jana think? Or Allie? They’re practically your children!” You stress.

"They won't care!" Paige protests, jutting out her bottom lip.

“I care!” You argue. “I can’t have your teammates thinking I’m some sex freak who has completely corrupted you. I mean, the vibrator was one thing, and the strap was another, ” you add after a beat, your face and your pussy heating up at the thought of Paige fucking you with it again. “But a sex swing is just too much.”

“They love you. No one’s gonna think that,” she says, softer now, her tone less argumentative. She runs a hand down your side, resting on your hip, and she tugs you closer, wanting to feel your warmth.

“I’m not changing my mind,” you whisper, her lips ghosting over yours, creating a tension so palpable, the electricity of it illuminated the air around you. 

“Wanna bet?” Paige whispers back, her words lifting with a slight taunt that makes you want to throw her down onto her own bed and ravage her until she was a whimpering mess. You connect your lips with hers, giving just enough for her to lean into you, chasing the euphoric high before pulling away, leaving her with a simple peck pressed to her sinful mouth. 

“Guess we’ll just have to see,” you smirk, unable to resist the smugness swelling up inside of you as Paige wrestles with her growing neediness. 

It was almost too easy.

~

Thanks so much for reading, i love you guys

Let me know what you think, and if you have requests, my inbox is open

xoxo katy

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[gainercontent]

The Popcorn Effect

Dean adjusted the cuffs of his crisp, navy-blue button-up for the third time that evening. His hands were steady—he was a lawyer, after all—but the slight pulse of nerves in his fingertips betrayed him. It wasn’t the movie. It wasn’t even Valentine’s Day. It was the fact that he was here, waiting outside a neon-lit theater, about to go on his first date with a man.  

With Arthur.  

Arthur, who was everything Dean wasn’t—towering, broad-shouldered, and exuding the kind of easy confidence that made heads turn. Arthur, with his smirking lips and that damn leather jacket that somehow made him look like he belonged in both a romance novel and a street fight.  

And Arthur, who, much to Dean’s bewilderment, was obsessed with Tarot cards and crystals. The last time they got coffee, Arthur had pulled a deck out of his back pocket, laid down a few cards, and told Dean that his future held “a shift in perspective.”  

“Yeah, it’s called trying not to get disbarred,” Dean had muttered.  

But he was here.  

Dean looked up just in time to see Arthur crossing the street toward him, boots heavy against the pavement, his expression half-amused.  

“You look nervous,” Arthur said, stopping right in front of him.  

“I’m a lawyer,” Dean replied smoothly, straightening. “I don’t do nervous.”  

Arthur just tilted his head, grinning. “Right.”  

Without missing a beat, Arthur reached down and took Dean’s hand, threading their fingers together with an effortless kind of certainty. Dean glanced around, feeling the warmth of Arthur’s palm, aware of how easily the action flipped something in his chest—exhilaration, maybe. Panic, definitely.  

Arthur didn’t seem to care about any of that. “Come on, counselor. I already got us tickets.”  

Dean let himself be pulled forward, taking a breath. It was fine. It was just a movie. It wasn’t like they were getting married.  

As they walked toward the entrance, Dean glanced up at the glowing marquee: **Alamo Drafthouse.** He’d never been here before, but Arthur had insisted on it. Something about “real food” and “people who actually shut up during the movie.”  

“You’ll like it,” Arthur said as if reading his mind.  

Inside, the theater was dimly lit, the scent of buttered popcorn thick in the air. A retro aesthetic covered the walls—old film posters, vintage projectors, a bar lined with craft beer taps. Dean had to admit, it was kind of cool.  

Arthur led them to their seats—back row, of course.  

“I can already tell you’re the type of guy who gets mad about plot holes,” Arthur murmured as they sat down.  

“I just appreciate logical storytelling,” Dean said. “Something I assume you don’t require from a deck of Tarot cards.”  

Arthur chuckled. “Mock all you want, but I could do a reading for you right now.”  

Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t pull his hand away when Arthur rested it on his knee.  

The previews started. The lights dimmed further.  

Dean tried to focus on the screen, but his mind kept drifting—not to the movie, but to the weight of Arthur’s presence beside him, the press of their shoulders, the realization that he was comfortable like this. That he wanted to be here.  

Maybe Arthur was right. Maybe there *was* a shift in perspective happening after all.  

And maybe, just maybe, Dean didn’t mind.  

*****

The moment they sat down, Arthur stretched his long legs out like he owned the place. Dean, still adjusting to the dim lighting and plush seats, barely had time to glance at the menu before Arthur waved over a server.  

“We’ll do the bottomless popcorn and two large sodas,” Arthur said smoothly, not even looking at Dean for input.  

Dean turned toward him, eyebrows lifting. “Excuse me?”  

Arthur smirked. “You seem like a guy who’d pretend he doesn’t want popcorn, then steal half of mine. This is just efficient.”  

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but the server was already jotting it down and heading off. He sighed, crossing his arms. “What if I wanted something else?”  

Arthur turned his head slowly, giving him a lazy, amused look. “Did you?”  

Dean hesitated.  

Arthur grinned. “That’s what I thought.”  

Before Dean could throw out some witty comeback, Arthur casually reached over and pressed the glowing red button on the side of Dean’s seat.  

With a low mechanical hum, the recliner shot backward. Dean’s knees jerked up, his feet flying into the air as he sank deep into the seat. His stomach did a weird little flip, caught between surprise and the bizarre comfort of the position.  

Arthur chuckled beside him. “Relax, counselor.”  

Dean pushed himself up slightly, attempting to regain some of his composure. “Arthur, what the hell—”  

“Shh.” Arthur didn’t even look at him, eyes fixed on the screen. “I love the previews.”  

Dean huffed, shifting in the recliner. “Are you serious?”  

Arthur just gave a slow nod, reaching for the armrest between them. He casually flipped up the divider, eliminating the barrier between their seats like it was nothing. Now there was no space between them at all.  

Dean blinked. He should have expected that.  

The first preview played, a dramatic action sequence with explosions and intense music. Arthur, completely engrossed, reached for the popcorn the moment it arrived, tossing a handful into his mouth without a care in the world.  

Dean exhaled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”  

Arthur glanced at him, grinning mid-chew. “You’ll thank me later.”  

Dean doubted it. But as the next preview rolled, and he found himself settling further into the recliner—feet still up, body weirdly at ease.

Dean wasn’t going to eat the popcorn.  

At least, that’s what he told himself as he reclined in his seat, arms crossed, determined to prove Arthur wrong. But as the previews rolled on, the buttery, salty aroma curled around him, teasing his senses. Arthur, of course, was eating without a care in the world, shoveling handfuls of the golden kernels into his mouth like it was his last meal.  

Dean tried to ignore it. He really did.  

But then Arthur tilted the bowl slightly toward him, as if issuing a silent challenge.  

Dean sighed. One handful wouldn’t hurt.  

The first bite was warm, crisp, and perfectly seasoned. The saltiness paired with the rich, melted butter in a way that made his taste buds light up. He chewed slowly, savoring it, then instinctively reached for his soda to wash it down. The ice-cold fizz of cola hit just right, cutting through the buttery taste and leaving him refreshed.  

Okay. Maybe another handful.  

Before he knew it, he had settled into a steady rhythm—popcorn, soda, popcorn, soda. His fingers found the bowl without thought, each handful just as satisfying as the last. Arthur said nothing, but Dean could feel the smirk radiating off of him.  

Whatever. He wasn’t going to give Arthur the satisfaction of commenting on it.  

But as Dean ate, something strange was happening. Subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. A soft pressure against his belt, the fabric of his shirt shifting slightly over his stomach.  

With each bite, he was growing softer. His lean frame, usually defined and sharp, was slowly rounding out. His stomach, once flat beneath his button-up, began to press gently against the fabric, the buttons pulling just a bit tighter. His thighs, always slim, were gradually thickening, settling more heavily against the recliner’s plush cushion.  

The popcorn was *doing* something to him.  

But Dean didn’t notice. The act of eating was too easy, too enjoyable. The warmth of the theater, the comfort of the reclined seat, the smooth rhythm of popcorn and soda—it was all lulling him into a relaxed, mindless state.  

His jaw worked steadily, bite after bite, as his body quietly softened. His arms, once toned, now had a slight heaviness to them. His jawline, usually sharp, began to smooth ever so slightly, a new fullness appearing in his cheeks.  

His stomach, growing steadily, formed the faintest curve over his waistband. Nothing dramatic, but enough that his belt, once comfortable, now pressed more firmly into his skin. He shifted slightly, unaware of the way his posture had changed—his body settling deeper into the chair, spreading just a little more than before.  

By the time the first round of bottomless popcorn was gone, he leaned back with a satisfied sigh, rubbing his stomach absentmindedly. He felt *full,* but in a comforting, indulgent way. His clothes felt just a bit different—his shirt not quite as loose, his pants hugging him in ways they hadn’t when he first sat down.  

Arthur finally turned to him, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Enjoying yourself?”  

Dean scoffed, wiping a stray kernel from his lap. His movements were a little slower, a little heavier. “It’s *fine*.”  

Arthur’s smirk deepened, but he said nothing.  

The server arrived just then, seamlessly refilling their popcorn bowl. Dean barely reacted—just reached for another handful without thinking, the cycle continuing as his body adjusted to its softening, thickening reality.  

Arthur chuckled under his breath, but this time, Dean was too preoccupied to care.  

*****

Dean had always been an effortlessly slim guy. Years of high-stress work and too many skipped meals had kept him trim, his suits always fitting perfectly without much effort. But something was… off.  

As he reached for another handful of popcorn, sinking deeper into the recliner, he couldn’t shake the strange sensation creeping over him. It wasn’t discomfort, exactly—just a subtle awareness that his body felt *different.*  

Buttery kernels melted on his tongue, the warm saltiness mingling perfectly with the ice-cold fizz of his soda. He took another sip, draining nearly half the massive cup in one go, sighing in satisfaction as the carbonation tingled through his chest. Then, without thinking, he grabbed another handful of popcorn.  

Arthur sat beside him, calm and knowing, as Dean absentmindedly continued his indulgence. The changes were happening more rapidly now, creeping over his frame with each bite.  

His stomach, once lean and taut, was rounding out unmistakably. The slight pressure against his waistband had turned into a steady, growing tightness. The fabric of his shirt stretched over his middle, no longer hanging loosely the way it had when he first sat down. The lowest button on his shirt was straining now, the fabric pulling just slightly when he leaned forward to grab more popcorn.  

His belt, once a comfortable accessory, was pressing into his waist, no longer just snug but actively digging into his growing softness. He shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but the reality was unavoidable—his body was *filling out.*  

His thighs had thickened considerably, pressing more firmly against the plush seat. Where before there had been space between them, now they met at the midpoint, a soft warmth spreading between his legs. His slacks, tailored to his once-slim frame, were starting to feel restrictive, the fabric hugging his growing quads and squeezing slightly at his hips.  

Dean shifted again, rolling his shoulders, but that only made him aware of the changes there, too. His chest—once flat and firm—had softened, rounding subtly beneath his shirt. The fabric clung in ways it never had before, a faint tightness along his upper torso that he might have mistaken for an odd laundry shrinkage if he weren’t so deep in popcorn-induced bliss.  

Even his face wasn’t spared. His sharp jawline had begun to soften at the edges, his cheeks carrying a bit more fullness. His collar pressed lightly against his neck, not tight but noticeably snugger than before.  

And yet, Dean still hadn’t pieced it together.  

He *felt* something was different, sure, but his brain wasn’t making the connection. All he knew was that he felt… heavier. Not weighed down, exactly, but *settled* in a way he hadn’t before. His movements had a slight sluggishness to them, his limbs resting more heavily against the recliner.  

He exhaled, shifting once again, frowning slightly as his belt dug into him a little more than before.  

Arthur, who had been watching him out of the corner of his eye, finally spoke. “Something wrong, counselor?”  

Dean hesitated. “…No.” He stretched subtly, rolling his shoulders again, adjusting the way he sat. His stomach pressed against his shirt, the fabric pulling ever so slightly as he inhaled.  

Arthur smirked. “You sure? You look a little… stuffed.”  

Dean huffed. “I’m fine,” he said, more to convince himself than Arthur. “Just… I don’t know. I feel a little weird.”  

Arthur hummed in amusement, swirling his soda cup. “Weird how?”  

Dean paused. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. There was an undeniable heaviness in his body, a fullness beyond just the popcorn in his stomach. His clothes felt different. His posture had changed. But it was subtle—just subtle enough to be dismissed as nothing more than post-movie-theater bloat.  

“…Forget it,” Dean muttered, brushing it off.  

Arthur just chuckled, eyes flicking toward the bowl of popcorn still in Dean’s lap. “You gonna finish that?”  

Dean didn’t answer immediately. His belly was pressing snugly against his shirt now, the pressure noticeable—but at the same time, the buttery aroma was still so inviting, the mix of salt and soda still so addictive.  

He exhaled, reaching for another handful.  

Arthur leaned back with a satisfied smirk, watching as Dean absentmindedly continued eating, his body still subtly expanding, still softening, still changing.  

Dean sighed, shifting in his seat as the movie faded into intermission. His stomach felt uncomfortably full, pressing tightly against his waistband. He hadn’t meant to eat so much, but something about the popcorn had been impossible to resist—one handful after another, until the bottomless bowl had been refilled *twice.*  

Now, though, he really needed to get up.  

He planted his hands on the armrests and tried to push himself forward, but something felt… off. His body didn’t move as easily as he expected. His stomach pressed heavily into his lap, his thighs spreading wide enough that they now filled the seat entirely. When had the recliner gotten so *deep*?  

Frowning, he tried again, shifting his weight forward, but his midsection resisted—his belt dug sharply into his waist, his slacks pulling uncomfortably tight. He grunted softly, his face heating with embarrassment.  

Arthur turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “You stuck?”  

Dean scowled. “I *got* it.”  

But before he could try again, Arthur casually reached over and pressed the button on Dean’s seat.  

The recliner hummed to life, slowly moving upright. But as it did, something *else* happened—something Dean wasn’t prepared for.  

As the seat lifted, his body was forced forward, pressing against the constraints of his clothes. His stomach, already pressed tightly against his waistband, was suddenly *squeezed* as he was pushed upright. The belt bit into his middle, his slacks stretching to their absolute limit.  

Then—  

*Pop.*  

A small but unmistakable *snap* sounded beneath his shirt.  

Dean froze.  

Arthur, expression unreadable, casually sipped his soda.  

Dean swallowed hard, refusing to look down. He *knew* what had happened. His pants—once tailored perfectly to his slim frame—had finally given up, the button popping off under the pressure of his thickened waistline.  

He pretended not to notice.  

Clearing his throat, he *carefully* pushed himself upright, feeling the resistance in his body, the added weight that made the motion far less effortless than it should have been. His thighs pressed firmly together, his hips shifting in a way that felt *foreign.* His shirt pulled snugly over his stomach, the lower hem straining to stay tucked into his pants.  

“Where you headed?” Arthur asked, voice tinged with amusement.  

Dean straightened, ignoring the way his belt, now unbuckled from the missing button, barely kept his pants in place. “Bathroom,” he muttered, forcing a casual tone.  

Arthur smirked but said nothing.  

As Dean stepped into the dimly lit theater aisle, he immediately realized something else—walking *felt* different. His steps were heavier, his balance slightly off. His thighs brushed with every movement, the new fullness shifting with him. His stomach had a subtle bounce he wasn’t used to, the unfamiliar weight pressing forward as he moved.  

His slacks, once comfortable, were now snug around his hips and rear, the waistband sitting precariously low thanks to the missing button. He had to *adjust* them as he walked, subtly tugging them up, horrified at the way they clung to his body.  

By the time he reached the restroom, his pulse was racing.  

He stepped inside, bracing himself, then turned to the mirror.  

His stomach dropped.  

The reflection staring back at him wasn’t quite his own. Or rather—it *was,* but softer, fuller, and undeniably heavier.  

His face was the first thing he noticed. His sharp jawline had softened considerably, the angles blunted by a slight roundness to his cheeks. His collar sat higher against his neck, no longer loose but snug against flesh that hadn’t been there before. His lips parted slightly, breath hitching as he took in the rest of himself.  

His once-trim waist had thickened *significantly.* His stomach pressed visibly against his shirt, the fabric stretched tightly over the newly developed curve. Without the button to hold his pants together, his belt was doing most of the work, but even that was starting to strain. The lower hem of his shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing just a sliver of soft skin beneath.  

His chest had changed, too. It wasn’t just muscle anymore—there was a roundness to it, a noticeable softness beneath the fitted fabric of his button-up. His shoulders still carried some of their usual sharpness, but his arms had thickened, his sleeves clinging a bit too snugly around them.  

And then there were his thighs.  

Dean exhaled sharply, shifting his stance. His legs had always been long and lean, but now they were *thick.* His quads pushed against the fabric of his slacks, the material visibly creased from how tightly they hugged his legs. His hips had widened slightly, his posture subtly changed by the added mass. His belt, sitting lower than before, was the only thing stopping his pants from slipping further down.  

Dean stared at himself, breathing heavy.  

*What the hell is happening?*  

He lifted a hand to his stomach, pressing hesitantly against the softness. It *yielded* under his touch, his fingers sinking slightly before meeting resistance. He could *feel* the difference, the unfamiliar weight sitting on his frame.  

He swallowed hard.  

This wasn’t just bloating. This wasn’t just a bad angle.  

He had *gained weight.* And not just a little.  

Dean sucked in a breath, trying to straighten his posture, trying to pull his shirt down further. But no matter how he adjusted, the reality remained—his body had changed.  

And he had no idea how, or *why.*  

Dean stood frozen in front of the bathroom mirror, his pulse hammering in his ears. His reflection—softer, rounder, *heavier*—stared back at him, undeniable proof that something unnatural was happening. His once-trim body had filled out with unfamiliar weight, his midsection pressing snugly against his shirt, his belt barely holding his slacks in place after his pants button had popped.  

And yet, beneath the shock and disbelief, something *else* was gnawing at him.  

A deep, insistent *hunger.*  

At first, he thought it was just the unease settling in his gut, the nerves twisting in response to his inexplicable transformation. But no—this was different. This hunger wasn’t normal. It wasn’t the kind that built gradually or could be ignored. It was *immediate* and *demanding*, an empty, aching void in his stomach that hadn’t been there minutes ago.  

His belly rumbled loudly, the sound deep and unnatural, almost echoing in the tiled restroom.  

Dean’s breath hitched. He pressed a hand to his midsection, feeling the soft new curve of his stomach through the fabric. How could he *still* be hungry? He had eaten more popcorn than he cared to admit, washing it down with gulps of soda, filling himself beyond what should have been comfortable. And yet, this hunger was like nothing he’d ever experienced—deep, primal, consuming.  

His throat went dry. He needed to get out of here.  

Swallowing hard, he straightened his shirt as best he could—not that it helped much. The fabric was still stretched too tight over his torso, his stomach still pushing against the waistband of his slacks. He couldn’t even suck it in properly; the fullness was *real.* Every step he took felt different, the added weight shifting with him in a way that made his movements feel subtly off-balance.  

The walk back to the theater was agonizing.  

His thighs, thick and unfamiliar, brushed with every step. His pants clung too snugly to his hips, forcing him to adjust them every few feet. Even his chest felt heavier, a slight bounce beneath his shirt that he *refused* to acknowledge. The hunger clawed at him the entire time, growing stronger the closer he got to his seat, as if something was *pulling* him back.  

By the time he stepped back into the dim glow of the theater, his stomach was outright *growling.*  

And that was when he saw it.  

A fresh, untouched bowl of steaming, buttery popcorn sat in front of Arthur.  

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, dread coiling in his gut.  

Arthur turned his head slightly, his expression calm, almost amused. “Took you long enough.”  

Dean didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the popcorn—golden, glistening, perfectly warm, as if it had just been delivered.  

“…Did you order more?” His voice came out weaker than he wanted.  

Arthur shrugged, sipping his soda. “You could say that.”  

Dean’s mouth went dry. He tore his gaze from the bowl and glanced down at Arthur’s seat. His armrest—the one with the *call button*—was glowing faintly, indicating it had been pressed multiple times.  

*He’s been ordering refills this whole time.*  

Arthur tilted his head, his smirk barely contained. “Something wrong?”  

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again. His thoughts were a jumbled mess.  

His body had changed—there was no denying that. His shirt was tight, his belt barely holding on, and his pants fit like they were two sizes too small. His stomach *should* have been full to bursting. And yet, standing there, staring at that fresh bowl of popcorn, all he could feel was *hunger.*  

His belly gave another deep, greedy growl.  

Arthur’s eyes flicked toward the sound, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he simply gestured toward the recliner beside him. “You gonna sit down, or what?”  

Dean hesitated. Every rational part of him screamed to stop—to *think*—to question *why* this was happening. But the hunger… the hunger was unbearable.  

Almost against his will, he stepped forward and sank back into his seat.  

The recliner adjusted under his weight, creaking softly in a way it hadn’t earlier. His stomach pressed against his lap more noticeably now, his thighs spreading wider than before. His belt dug into his middle, a constant reminder of how much his body had changed.  

Arthur nudged the popcorn bowl closer.  

Dean stared at it, heart pounding. He *shouldn’t.* He *couldn’t.*  

But his hand was already reaching for it.  

Arthur sipped his soda, watching with quiet amusement. “Enjoy,” he murmured.  

Dean popped a handful into his mouth, and the moment the buttery kernels hit his tongue, his fate was sealed.  

The hunger *demanded* to be fed.  

And Dean, helpless against it, obeyed.  

Dean barely registered Arthur’s movement until it was too late.  

A soft *click* sounded beside him, and suddenly, his seat whirred to life. The recliner tilted back, his body sinking deeper into the plush cushions.  

But this time—*this time*—the feeling was completely different.  

As the chair eased back, the added weight pressing down on his body became *impossible* to ignore. His newly grown stomach—soft, heavy, undeniably full—pushed outward, settling heavily onto his lap. The pressure of it was startling. It wasn’t just a small bit of fullness anymore; it was a real, noticeable weight, resting on him, pressing against his frame.  

His belt strained even more, his slacks digging painfully into his sides. His shirt stretched taut across his midsection, rising ever so slightly, barely able to contain him. He felt *pinned* beneath himself, his body settling into place with an unfamiliar heft.  

Dean sucked in a sharp breath.  

Arthur, unfazed, smirked. “Comfy?”  

Dean *wasn’t*—not exactly. But the worst part? The hunger *still* hadn’t gone away.  

His stomach, now undeniably round and soft, gave another quiet *growl*, the sound muffled but persistent.  

It made no *sense.*  

He had already eaten *so much.* His body told him he was full—his tight clothes, his heavy limbs, the way his belly pushed against everything—but at the same time, the hunger gnawed at him, deep and relentless.  

And the popcorn was still there.  

Arthur nudged the bowl closer again, watching him expectantly.  

Dean hesitated for half a second—just long enough to acknowledge that he *should* stop, that he *should* question what was happening to him.  

But then his hand moved, almost without thought.  

Another handful. Another bite.  

The moment the buttery kernels touched his tongue, everything else faded.  

He chewed slowly at first, savoring the warmth, the saltiness, the way the butter coated his lips. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he let the flavors melt into his senses. The recliner cradled him, the plush seat molding around his expanded form.  

He should have felt uncomfortable—stuffed, overfed, *trapped* by his own growing body—but instead, all he could focus on was the addictive cycle. *Popcorn. Soda. More popcorn. More soda.*  

Each bite sent another subtle shift through him, another layer of softness settling into place. His stomach pushed a little heavier against his lap. His thighs spread a little wider against the seat. His belt, strained past its limit, felt like it could give way at any second.  

But Dean didn’t stop.  

The more he ate, the less he could think about how different his body felt.  

Arthur, calm as ever, simply sipped his soda, watching as Dean continued—bite after bite, sip after sip, sinking further into the chair, growing softer, fuller, *heavier* with every moment.  

By the time Dean absentmindedly reached the bottom of the bowl, he had gained another twenty pounds.  

Unknown to Dean, he was now about a full *fifty* pounds heavier than when the night had started.  

And still, the hunger remained.  

*****

Dean barely noticed when Arthur reached for the call button again.  

He was too lost in the haze of warmth and fullness, too caught up in the steady rhythm of eating, drinking, *growing*. His recliner cradled him in its embrace, his expanded frame sinking deeper into the plush cushioning. He felt *heavy*, his body pressing down in ways that still startled him—but somehow, he didn’t *hate* it.  

And then—  

*Ding.*  

Arthur had ordered another refill.  

Dean swallowed hard, his stomach stretching taut against his now *achingly* tight shirt. The buttons at the center strained dangerously, fabric pulled to its absolute limit over the fullness of his belly.  

He should have stopped by now. He *knew* he should have. But when the server quietly placed another *steaming*, golden bowl of popcorn in front of them, the scent alone made his stomach growl, eager and demanding.  

Arthur chuckled, low and deep, and Dean felt a warm hand settle over his shoulder.  

“You’ve really got an appetite, huh?” Arthur murmured.  

Dean’s breath hitched.  

Arthur’s arm draped over him, pulling him in close. It was effortless, as if Dean belonged tucked against his side. The warmth of Arthur’s body, the solid strength of his frame, sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He should have been embarrassed—should have been *mortified* by how much he had gained in just a few hours—but the way Arthur touched him, firm yet possessive, made shame feel like an afterthought.  

Dean opened his mouth to respond, to say *something*, but Arthur beat him to it.  

“Eat,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “I’ll keep you comfortable.”  

Dean *should* have protested.  

But he didn’t.  

Instead, he grabbed another handful of popcorn.  

And the moment he started eating again, the changes resumed—faster, more intense than before.  

The added weight settled into him *immediately*. His stomach swelled, pressing heavier onto his lap, pushing against the fabric of his shirt with undeniable force. His thighs thickened further, spreading against the seat, pressing into Arthur’s with soft, yielding warmth. His arms, once toned and lean, filled out with plushness, his sleeves tightening around the softening flesh.  

And then—  

*Pop.*  

The first button gave way.  

Dean stiffened, his breath catching as the strain on his shirt finally reached its breaking point.  

*Pop.*  

A second one.  

The fabric pulled even tighter, barely containing him—  

*Pop. Pop. Pop.*  

The rest of his buttons *burst open*, one after another, his belly spilling free into the open air. The sudden release made him exhale sharply, warmth flooding his cheeks. His stomach *was huge*, round and undeniably full, pushing outwards with soft, growing heft.  

Arthur’s grip tightened around him.  

“There he is,” Arthur murmured, his voice dark with approval.  

Dean shuddered.  

Arthur’s hand slid lower, tracing over his side, his touch deliberate and lingering. Dean inhaled sharply, feeling the way his newly softened body reacted to the contact. His skin was sensitive, warm, *alive* beneath Arthur’s fingers.  

“I think you’re enjoying this,” Arthur whispered, lips brushing just near Dean’s ear.  

Dean *was*.  

The weight, the warmth, the way Arthur was touching him—*it felt good*.  

Better than good.  

Dean’s breathing grew heavier, his pulse hammering as Arthur pressed closer, his strong fingers tracing the new softness of Dean’s belly, lingering at the edges before slipping beneath the fabric.  

Dean gasped.  

Arthur chuckled, clearly enjoying how *responsive* he was.  

“You feel amazing,” Arthur murmured.  

Dean bit his lip. He knew he should be *shocked* by what was happening to his body, by how much he had changed. But Arthur’s touch, his warmth, his *presence* made it impossible to care.  

For the first time all night, Dean let himself relax.  

Let himself *sink* into the moment.  

Arthur’s hand slid lower, his breath hot against Dean’s skin, and Dean closed his eyes, giving in completely.  

Valentine’s Day had never felt this good before.  

Dean leaned back into the recliner, his belly rising and falling with each slow breath, his shirt hanging open in tatters. He should have felt humiliated, but Arthur’s presence—his arm still draped over him, fingers occasionally tracing along his softened side—kept him grounded.  

Arthur chuckled low in his throat, giving Dean’s exposed belly a playful pat. “You, my friend, are officially *boyfriend material*.”  

Dean blinked, his dazed mind struggling to process the words. “Boyfriend material?”  

Arthur smirked. “Mmhmm. You’re cute, you’re fun, and you look *real* good all filled out like this.” He squeezed Dean’s side gently, his thumb brushing against warm, stretched skin. “Definitely my type.”  

Dean’s face burned. He *should* have protested. *Should* have questioned how any of this made sense. But sitting there, basking in Arthur’s attention, his words sank into him like honey. It felt *nice* to be admired. To be *wanted.*  

Arthur reached down, pulling off his oversized leather jacket. “Here,” he said, draping it over Dean’s shoulders. “Can’t have you walking out of here half-naked.”  

Dean swallowed thickly. The jacket was warm, still carrying Arthur’s scent—leather, cologne, and something undeniably *him*. It swallowed Dean up, the large fit doing a decent job of covering his ruined shirt, though it couldn’t hide the heavy curve of his stomach pressing forward.  

Arthur stood first, stretching, and then turned to offer Dean a hand.  

Dean hesitated.  

He was *so* full. So heavy. His body felt different, weighed down in ways that still surprised him. His recliner had molded around him, making the act of *getting up* seem like a task in itself.  

Arthur’s hand remained outstretched, firm, patient. “Come on, babe.”  

Dean exhaled and took it.  

The moment he started to stand, *he knew something was wrong*.  

His balance felt *off*. His thighs brushed more than they should have. His stomach shifted as he straightened, pressing forward under the weight of his fullness. He barely had time to register it before—  

*Rrrrip.*  

The sound was unmistakable.  

Dean froze.  

His breath hitched as a rush of cool air hit his exposed backside.  

Arthur made a strangled noise—somewhere between a laugh and a hum of appreciation. “Well, *that* was inevitable.”  

Dean clapped a hand over his mouth, mortified. “Arthur—”  

Arthur grinned. “Relax, babe. Happens to the best of us.” He slid an arm around Dean’s waist, his grip *strong*, supportive, *possessive*. “Let’s get you to the car.”  

Dean’s heart pounded as Arthur guided him toward the exit, keeping a firm hold on him. Every step felt *different*, his body heavier, softer, more *aware* of itself than ever before. The remains of his pants clung uselessly to his thighs, his overgrown form barely concealed by the leather jacket.  

But Arthur? Arthur acted like this was *completely normal*.  

Like he *wanted* him like this.  

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Arthur pulled Dean in closer, his voice low and teasing.  

“Guess I’ll have to keep you in my clothes from now on.”  

Dean’s face burned.  

And yet, beneath the embarrassment, beneath the shock of how much he had changed—  

A tiny, undeniable part of him *liked* that idea.  

*****

The car ride was a blur.  

Dean sat in the passenger seat, Arthur’s oversized leather jacket wrapped tightly around him, barely concealing the wreckage of his clothes. His pants were beyond saving, split down the back and hugging his fuller thighs in a way that made movement difficult. His shirt? Utterly destroyed. And beneath it all, his body—*soft, heavy, undeniably changed*—settled into itself, pressing against the seat, his stomach nudging up against the seatbelt.  

And yet…  

Arthur’s hand never left his thigh.  

It was casual at first—just resting there, warm and grounding. But as they drove through the quiet streets, Arthur’s fingers began tracing slow, teasing circles against Dean’s leg, his touch light but deliberate.  

Dean should have been panicking, should have been freaking out about his *impossible* weight gain, about the way his body had expanded so quickly in just a few hours. But every time doubt crept in, Arthur squeezed his thigh a little, anchoring him, reminding him how *good* it felt to be wanted.  

“Let’s go back to my place,” Arthur murmured as they pulled up to an apartment complex. His voice was smooth, confident, laced with something undeniably suggestive. “Netflix, chill, and maybe… I’ll keep you warm.”  

Dean’s stomach fluttered—an entirely new sensation given its size.  

He *should* have hesitated. He *should* have questioned what was happening.  

But Arthur’s smirk, his touch, the way he *looked* at him like he was the most *irresistible* thing in the world—it made it impossible to say no.  

“…Yeah,” Dean said, voice softer than usual. “Yeah, okay.”  

Arthur’s apartment was exactly what Dean expected—dimly lit, tastefully messy, filled with small touches of personality. Shelves lined with books on astrology and mysticism. Tarot cards scattered on the coffee table. The faint scent of incense in the air.  

Dean would have made a skeptical remark *any other night.* But tonight? He barely noticed.  

Arthur guided him to the couch, helping him ease down with surprising gentleness. “You good?”  

Dean exhaled, settling into the cushions. “Yeah, just—full.” He glanced down at himself, the leather jacket shifting slightly to reveal the swell of his belly. *More than full.* He *felt* the difference in his body—how his middle rested against his lap, how his arms felt just a little thicker, how *big* his thighs looked, pressing against each other in a way they hadn’t before.  

Arthur’s gaze flicked over him, slow and appreciative. “You wear it well.”  

Dean’s face went hot. “Shut up.”  

Arthur chuckled, settling beside him. The couch dipped under his weight, and before Dean could react, Arthur’s arm was around his shoulders, tugging him in. The warmth of him, the firm grip, the *undeniable chemistry* between them—it sent a pleasant shiver through Dean’s body.  

The TV hummed to life, some action movie starting up in the background, but neither of them really paid attention.  

Arthur leaned in, his voice low, teasing. “You know… I think I like you better like this.”  

Dean swallowed hard. “Like what?”  

Arthur’s fingers trailed along his side, over the softness that hadn’t been there before. “Relaxed. Indulgent. *Comfortable*.”  

Dean’s breath hitched. Arthur’s hand wasn’t just resting anymore—it was *exploring*, tracing lazy patterns over his belly, along his waist, down his thigh. It should have been embarrassing. He *should* have pulled away.  

But he didn’t.  

Because for the first time, Dean wasn’t thinking about how different he looked.  

He was thinking about how *good* it felt to be touched like this.  

Arthur smirked, leaning in, lips brushing against Dean’s ear. “You’re *gorgeous*, babe.”  

Dean’s heart *skipped*.  

His body was different—softer, heavier, undeniably changed—but Arthur didn’t just accept it. He *adored* it. And for the first time, Dean let himself *believe it*.  

He turned his head slightly, closing the space between them, and Arthur took the invitation without hesitation. Their lips met, slow at first, then deeper, more *needy*. Arthur’s grip tightened, pulling Dean closer, pressing him into the couch, making sure he *felt* every inch of his desire.  

Dean melted into him, his doubts and disbelief fading into the background.  

Whatever had happened tonight—however impossible it was—there was no denying one thing:  

Arthur *wanted* him.  

And God help him—Dean wanted Arthur too.  

The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, Arthur’s hands moving over Dean’s softened frame like he *owned* every inch of it. Dean barely noticed when the leather jacket slipped from his shoulders, leaving him bare-chested, his exposed skin still warm from the rush of their night.  

Arthur pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just over Dean’s, his breath hot against his skin. “You’re addictive, you know that?” he murmured, his fingers trailing lazily down Dean’s belly, tracing the new curve of it with clear admiration.  

Dean swallowed hard, still breathless. “You don’t… think this is weird?” His voice was quiet, uncertain. “I mean—*this*—” He gestured vaguely at himself, at the fullness of his stomach, the undeniable weight of his transformation.  

Arthur smirked, his grip tightening around Dean’s waist. “Weird? No. Expected?” He tilted his head. “Maybe a little.”  

Dean stiffened. “…What do you mean?”  

Arthur exhaled, his fingers pressing into Dean’s side, his expression somewhere between amusement and something almost—*possessive*. “That popcorn? It wasn’t exactly *normal*.”  

Dean’s stomach twisted. “Arthur.”  

Arthur sighed, shifting, his hands settling on either side of Dean’s belly. “It’s a bit of a… *ritual*,” he admitted. “A way to open you up to pleasure, indulgence. *Abundance.*” His eyes gleamed. “And judging by how much you enjoyed yourself, I’d say it worked.”  

Dean’s breath hitched.  

He wanted to be *angry*. Wanted to shove Arthur away, demand answers, *demand to know how the hell this was possible*.  

But his body betrayed him.  

Because the moment Arthur’s hands moved again—skimming over his softened stomach, his warm, newly plush sides—Dean *shivered*.  

Arthur leaned in, his lips brushing over Dean’s jaw. “The magic doesn’t just change you for one night,” he murmured. “It… *adjusts* things.”  

Dean’s stomach let out a soft, traitorous *growl*.  

Arthur chuckled. “Like your appetite.”  

Dean inhaled sharply. “You’re telling me—”  

“That you might *always* be this hungry now?” Arthur smirked. “Yeah. Probably.”  

Dean’s head spun. *This wasn’t happening.*  

But the warmth of Arthur’s touch, the heat between them, the way Arthur *looked at him*—it made it so much harder to care.  

Arthur’s lips found his again, stealing his protests, drowning them in something deeper, *hotter*. Dean exhaled shakily, barely noticing as Arthur guided him backward onto the couch, pinning him beneath his solid, muscular frame.  

“You can be mad at me later,” Arthur murmured against his lips. “Right now? Let’s see just how much you like this new body of yours.”  

Dean’s heart pounded, his body already surrendering.  

Maybe—just *maybe*—this wasn’t a bad thing after all.  

[lovelyspring7]

Could we wave a snippet of black pearl? pretty please👉🏻👈🏻

Preview Black Pearl | Yandere JJK x Reader

Preview: Jungkook always got what he wanted. And he wanted you. Dangerous. Obsessive. Unrelenting. You ran, but he was never going to let you stay gone. Because pearls aren’t born from perfection. They’re born from pain. A wound, buried deep, pressed and shaped until it becomes something rare. Precious. And you? You were his pearl. And this time, he won’t let you slip away so easily.

Word count: 17k

Genre: Yandere

Pairing: CEO Billionaire Jungkook x reader.

Warnings: Yandere, smut (praise kink, soft dominance, oral, edging, overstimulation, creampie, mild breath play), stalking, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, manipulation, controlling & emotionally abusive behaviour, self starvation, self inflicted injury.

Disclaimer: This type of content is not suitable for all audiences and I do not condone any of the presented behaviour. This is purely for entertainment and fictional purposes and I don’t think any BTS member would act like this.

Read Part 1 Here | Read Part 2 Here | Read This Part 3 Here

Jungkook couldn’t sleep.

For the third night in a row, the bed felt too cold. Too empty.

The penthouse, with its towering windows and sprawling view of the city, offered no comfort. The soft hum of traffic below only amplified the silence pressing in, the void you’d left behind. The space where you used to sleep, beside him, against him, was untouched. Undisturbed.

The scent of you was already fading. That delicate trace of vanilla, once clinging to his pillows, was now nothing but a phantom he couldn't chase. And still, it haunted him.

His hand drifted across the sheets, fingers searching for a warmth that wasn’t there. How many nights had he held you close, pressing his lips to your hair as you slept, the steady rise and fall of your breath easing something sharp inside him?

Now, there was nothing.

All he had was silence.

He missed your laugh, that soft, breathless sound when he held you too long while watching late-night movies. The way you’d roll your eyes, teasing him for being too clingy.

You were his. Safe. Perfect. Until you weren’t.

And now, the pain in his chest twisted deeper with every hour you were gone.

He had been patient. He had given you space. Three days. Three days too long.

And all it had done was prove what he already knew.

You weren’t safe out there. Not without him.

And if you wouldn’t come back willingly? He’d bring you home himself.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened as he sat up. His black hair strands over his forehead, messy from restless tossing, the ends curling slightly against his temples. He dragged a hand through it, pushing it back in a slow, frustrated motion.

The pain of your absence wasn’t just a wound.

It was a void.

And he was done waiting.

I just had to post a snippet, so excited for this to get posted! Hopefully on Saturday/Sunday depending on how fast I’ll edit!💜

Taglist♡: @jjinnies @princessdamara13 @goldenmidnight @kimlineownsme @noelletruth @minshookie29 @silversparkles11 @diaryofangie19 @loveitc @potaetopic @taehvluv @samanda-18 @kimyoona03 @staycgia @ggggi133 @imarider @jeonsjiddies @carrotandgarlic @btsmysoulmates @kkjagi @stayblinkarmyatinymoafearnot @sweeth3art999 @babyitscoldoutside @taintaed @lachimolalajeon @eyesforjungkook @kamyyyy @captainengineer-trixie @taekritimin123 @iveivory @llallaaa

[lymtw]

Polaroid Camera

Thinking of Toji who buys a Polaroid camera for the sole purpose of capturing you on it. Some of the pictures are candid, like the one he has of you washing dishes. Your sleeves are rolled up as you lean against the kitchen sink. There's very little light shining on you through the window, but your side profile is still visible. You're holding a blue sponge, scrubbing a glass plate clean. Toji loves the domesticity of the image. It was meant to capture the view of his "wife". You're not married yet, but this photo is a preview of what he hopes one day will be a married life with you.

He has non-candid ones as well, like the one he has of you wearing one of his shirts like a dress. He was even able to capture the comfy slippers you wore with dogs all over them. You had just woken up so you had major bed head, and your eyes were slightly puffy and squinted when you looked at the camera lens. Toji remembers how mad you were that he snapped that photo of you. You sluggishly tried to snatch it away, but he held it up in the air where you couldn't reach. You gave up and went back to sleep, but once you fully woke up and saw the picture again, you told Toji to get rid of it because you looked like a hot mess. He lied and told you he cut it up, but really, he keeps it hidden in the glove compartment of his car. He even labeled it with a bold "MY LITTLE GREMLIN" written on the bottom border, beneath the picture. He pulls out the polaroid whenever he's having a rough day. It makes him crack up every time, seeing the way your hair spikes in different directions, from how much you roll around in your sleep. It really puts him in the mindset of thinking that nothing can be so terrible when he gets to wake up to you looking like you've gotten the best sleep of your life.

There are more wholesome ones that he treasures with all his being. One where you're pointing at the enormous waves that crash at the beach. You outshine everything in that picture. The burnt orange sunset that mingles with indigo colored clouds, the foamy, glistening waves that crash onto the sand—they have nothing on you and the happiness that consumes your features as you point at the explosive wave that crashes down a few feet away from you.

There's another one where you're blushing furiously with the cutest shy smile on your face. You're sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his car. Toji had just turned you into mush by bombarding you with sugarcoated words. You clearly remember the way he said "look at my pretty girl..." and "you're so cute, ma". You knew Toji was doing this to rile you up and it was working. You were feeling everything all at once. Your brain was short circuiting, and Toji was enjoying every last second of it. You couldn't even look at him with those blazing cheeks you adorned, and Toji thought it was a perfect picture so he called your name and when you instinctively turned to face him he snapped the picture.

There's one of both of you, where you're keened over in a laughing fit while Toji stares at you with the most lovestruck smile on his face. You had just started dating and nobody in the world was routing for you two, except for Shiu, one of Toji's friends. Shiu third wheeled one night and tagged along to some random bar you wanted to try out. It was supposed to be a date for you and Toji, but thankfully, you didn't have the heart to turn the man away. Shiu took the camera out of Toji's car and it ended up spending ninety percent of the time stuffed in his coat pocket. The perfect moment was hard to spot because Toji seemed so out of character around you all night. There were too many good shots and Shiu almost gave up. He had one shot because he didn't want to catch any backlash from Toji for using up his film, but finally, he looked up from his phone at the perfect moment. Toji was leaning in close to you, saying something into your ear that had you blushing with a growing smile on your face. Shiu always assumes that Toji whispered something dirty because of that sly smirk on his face, but really he just made you laugh so hard. You couldn't sit still on the barstool so you had to stand while clutching your stomach in pain from laughing so much. Toji watched you, sparing a few chuckles himself at your inability to compose yourself. Shiu clicked the button and immediately printed the photo. That picture is one of Toji's most prized possessions. He keeps that one on the dashboard of his car.

Now, Toji has a special collection. One that is hidden from everybody's eyes. Everyone but you because you're the star, as usual, in this special collection. He respects you too much to toss your consent under the rug, so he lets you know ahead of time that whatever happens when the bedroom door shuts will be memorable. With that you expected to occasionally see a few flashes of light during your passionate nights with Toji.

There's one where you're sprawled out on the bed, wearing a bra and some plaid pajama bottoms. You have one hand on your chest, your fingers nestled between your breasts, while your other hand dips into the waistband of your pants. Toji had to snap his fingers so you'd turn your attention to the camera lens because you were staring at him instead. "Over here, pretty girl," he'd say, looking through the viewfinder to center you in the frame. You give the camera a sly little grin, but once you see the flash and you know you've been captured, your gaze returns to him and you give him those eyes. They convey so much love and need for him, and he doesn't have it in him to deny you any longer of his own need for you. You're forever enticing to him, and your level of temptation is unreachable.

He captured your more blissful side in another picture. It definitely wasn't so calm and peaceful before you ended up this way, and Toji never denies it when you stumble upon on this picture during your trips through memory lane. He knows he wasn't gentle in the moments that led up to this picture, but he takes pride in the marks and scratches he left behind on you, making little comments like, "damn, I really tried leaving a scar there, huh?" or "surprised that wasn't permanent" when he sees the deep red lines on your waist and ribs. Every time you look at this picture together, he counts how many marks he left on your back because he loves how flustered you get when it makes you recall that night. The teasing is all worth it when he points at your sleeping face in the picture and tells you you look like a princess. After lots of back and forth about letting him keep a copy of this in his wallet, you caved and told him it was fine as long as his wallet was with him at all times. He became even more protective of his wallet because of this. Now he triple checks and pats his pockets to make sure it's with him anytime he goes anywhere.

There's one that he's very careful with because it has you in a position where you're fully exposed. You're lying on the bed, still fully nude with the most sultry expression on your face. Never mind the fact that Toji had just absolutely railed you and turned you into a mindless puddle on the bed, but you were glowing effortlessly, and Toji had to capture you to make this image eternal. He asked if it was okay to take your picture like this and you just shrugged with a satisfied grin on your face. Your muscles were so tense, you had to stretch your limbs out to bring back a good amount of blood flow. Toji found his camera in time to view you in this unintentional pose. You were brilliant—absolutely stunning. "Just like that, ma. Keep your arms crossed above your head," he instructed. The position made your chest pop more, and your eyes had this twinkle of saintliness to them despite the dark lust emanating from them. Your whole body was in the frame, one of your legs was bent at the knee while the other laid flat on the bed. The mess between your thighs was very much visible, and seeing it through the viewfinder only made Toji's dick come back to life even quicker. You didn't give him a bright and innocent smile, instead you went for the more seductive approach and bit your lip. The flash struck your eyes, and once again, you were a memory on Toji's camera. Toji set the camera aside and climbed right back onto you to continue what was never actually finished.

[lovelovemenots]

COLDER THAN ICE !

nhl!toge inumaki x reader

𓇼 preview: you have a habit of walking along the beach near your campus late at night, needing to be alone after many long days of classes and socializing. so what happens when there's an unexpected visitor-more specifically a star in the nhl- below you? you fall--in more ways than one.

𓇼 warnings: all characters are aged up and/or in college, strangers to friends to lovers(soo original), they go through the canon event of the GODAWFUL "casual" stage, angst, fluff, SMUT, freaky toge, he matches his "snake" name (you'll see), sunshine/grumpy kinda, happy ending!

𓇼 wc: 4.1k

𓇼 a/n: guys i finally learned how to do gradient text and i feel like a fucking coding genius. i need to elaborate on this hockey!toge thought more and i def will... not my best work for sure... oh well!

anybody, even if they aren't a fan of hockey, knows about megumi fushiguro and inumaki's dynamic. inumaki's first name was unknown by the world, similar to the rest of him. an absolute powerhouse in the world of hockey, when working together, megumi quickly wraps and weaves himself around players to block and trip them up while inumaki focuses on doing the dirty work. inumaki was ruthless, not afraid at all to fight other players or slam them against railings as he scores. the name "snake and fangs" is extremely fitting, inumaki not being afraid to bite.

you yourself weren't too interested in hockey, but your friends dragged you to their games anyways.

"is this your guys' idea of fun? are you insane?"

your friends scream loudly as players are being slammed into the plastic guarding, the only shield separating the fans and the ice. hockey was certainly not your favorite thing to watch, easily becoming overwhelmed by what to focus on, what is and isn't allowed, and the fights. your friends and their boyfriends cheer and scream for your mutual friend, megumi.

though, megumi could be the last player you're focusing on, the only player that has your attention is number 11. you process the large letters on his back spelling "INUMAKI" before you realize who he is. inumaki, a star in the national hockey league and one half of the most powerful duo: snake and fangs.

the game went on as it usually did, the only thing different was your hyper attention on inumaki, the snake. you always knew of his reputation, but you never payed much attention until now. and even though you admired him, you were never going to talk to him. you didn't even know what he looked like under the protection of his helmet. their team won, as they usually did, and you bid your friends goodbye before they went to the afterparty celebration.

a deep sigh was the first thing to escape your lips once you closed the door to your apartment--an investment you finally made in your third year of college. today was longer than most, having a full day of classes and the hockey game with your friends shortly after. it was now 10 p.m., and the only thing relieving your stress from today was the fact that you had no classes tomorrow. you soaked in one of your only times of peace and quiet in your apartment before shifting into your nightly routine.

as much as you wanted to go straight to bed, you ruined your schedule for yourself two years ago when you first started attending college. ever since the breather you took at your first party, finding a secluded beach in the process, you went every night before going to bed. and this habit wasn't going to change now, and you wonder what will happen to your sleep schedule if you move away after college.

so, as always, you change out of your clothes into something more comfortable and head out to the same secluded beach. it was familiar and felt more like home than anything, the soft sand under your feet and melodic waves crashing on the shore. it was ever the same, you didn't need to watch for anything or keep a smile in case anybody saw you. except one thing-- you surely didn't expect to fall over somebody laying in the sand.

you crash into the ground with a choked gasp, the sand-and body- softening the fall slightly. quickly pushing yourself up, you look at the person, now clear to be a young man, with utter embarrassment etched on your features. as if falling onto a guy your age wasn't awful enough, he was probably the most attractive man you'd seen in your life.

"shit, i am so so sorry-" you quickly run your hands over your face, groaning softly, "this is so embarassing."

the man laughs softly, and everything is worse. as you start to take in his features, your blush deepened and spread. he was beautiful, his features softly illuminated by the moonlight. he has silky platinum hair, a scarf covering the lower portion of his face, and dark brown eyes. no- were his eyes purple?-

before you could stare anymore than you already were, you heard soft scribbling and looked down, seeing him write into a post-it note.

'it's okay. usually nobody's out here.'

he smiled softly as he held it up, or at least you hope he was smiling, seeing his eyes squint slightly at the edges from over his scarf. his note makes you smile slightly as well, whether it was due to his silent nature or the familiar beach calming you.

"you're telling me..." you groan again before speaking quietly, "i've been coming for years and i've never seen you."

again, he scribbles quickly into his notepad and holds it up for you to see, having to squint slightly due to the moon's poor job at illuminating the sheet.

'i usually come later than this, work ended earlier than usual today.'

you nod silently, "not a big talker?"

he huffs softly at this and shakes his head, not with any serious meaning. he once again reaches for something to write with, but instead pulls out his phone and opens his notes app. the light from his phone successfully lights up his face, highlighting his features much better than the moon. yeah, his eyes were definitely purple. he faces the phone screen toward you, the bold lettering much easier to read coming from his phone.

'yeah. went to the doctor when i was a kid and found out the nerves in my vocal chords are fucked up. i can speak a bit but most of the time talking hurts like shit.'

you smile sympathetically at him and trace your finger through the sand, looking down. "it's alright, i like the quiet."

he looks back at you with a small smile, admiring your features under the moonlight. he notes that your voice is smooth and comforting, and he finds himself wanting to hear it more as he writes to hear more responses from you, and best of all hearing your laugh.

you ended up talking to the stranger until 3 a.m. that night, but you didn't mind. the cold bit at your face, but it was hard to notice even that in his company. after that night, you continued meeting at the beach for months.

even as he didn't speak, he made you laugh, hard. whether it was because of something stupid he typed on his phone, a brainrotted meme he sent you, or purely his expressions and reactions to things you tell him.

without fail, every time you smiled or laughed, he looked at you with a soft smile, losing his scarf along the way of knowing you. without fail he always found some way to touch you, whether it was wiping something off your face or burying his head in your shoulder because he's "tired." you also learned that his name is toge, he's rich as fuck, and very protective about his life outside of you.

you, on the other hand, shared a lot of your life with him. you told him extensively about all of your closest friends and family, specifically megumi. you boasted about having a friend that was in the national hockey league, gushing about how cool it was. every time the conversation of hockey was introduced, toge pursed his lips and nodded tightly, not knowing how to respond. you assumed that he just didn't like hockey, but nonetheless begged him to meet megumi, along with the rest of your friends. every time you did, he wrote 'maybe' and that 'i don't know if they'd like me.'

another thing you didn't know about toge was what the two of you were. even after a year of him becoming your closest friend, you didn't know if the word "friend" was fitting. you had fallen asleep in his arms and woken up to him softly kissing your forehead and touching each other a bit too comfortably for “friends” frequently, all while keeping the title of being close friends. your time together extended beyond the beach, almost for an entire year, buying shitty gas station food and going to an arcade. the beach looked different than it had in the winter, spring, and summer, all seasons you had spent at the beach with toge. it didn’t matter what you did, he spent most of the time observing you quietly, then softly scratching into a notepad or typing into his phone. 

never real dates, but never doing anything that was simply friendly. you'd rather die than bring it up, though, and you weren't planning on moving past whatever it was now. although your meetings had started to occur outside of the beach, your beach nights were still frequent.

one particular day you spent studying in the library on campus, feeling a familiar double-buzz in your pocket. you had changed toge's ringtone soon into your friendship, knowing immediately if a text was coming from him. it wasn't hard to tell, though, as when he texted he usually spammed you. sliding your phone from your pocket, you glance at your screen and smile softly.

toge!!: hello hello

toge!!: work done…dying..only you can save me.....

chuckling softly, you type out a quick response.

'you're about to ask if you can stay over.'

toge!!: PLEASE

toge!!: i can only fully sleep and recharge at your place idk what it is

toge!!: be honest is there meth in your ac....

another thing that happened as the two of you grew closer and bonded was that he loosened up. he was incredibly funny and never failed to make you laugh just by being stupid, and so as always, you roll your eyes and bite back a smile, pushing your phone back into your pocket. no matter if you responded or didn't, he was probably already on the way to your apartment.

once your key unlocks the front door of your basically shared space, you step in to see toge passed out on your couch. you huff slightly before quietly dropping your bag and jacket off by the front door. slipping your shoes off, you walk over to where toge is laying and sit by where his head rests, watching him inhale and exhale deeply. seeing him sleeping so peacefully stirs something inside you, and your thumb lightly grazes his cheek.

toge stirs slightly and his eyes flutter open, widening at the realization of your proximity. he clears his throat and turns so his creeping blush stays hidden. pulling out his phone again, he types quickly.

‘work was shitty today. coworkers pissed me off’

you didn't press on his privacy much, but you did wonder. he's secretive about what he does for work, he's loaded, he's handsome, and he doesn't speak. as you've gotten closer he's promised to tell you sometime in the future.

so, you didn’t ask him about his work this time and let the good moment with him last, cuddling on your couch becoming a habit the two of you shared, as friends.

another particular night was hot. the winter had come and passed, and the humidity of the blazing sun was back, even when it wasn't in the sky. as you slip off your shoes and walk down the beach to your usual spot, you smile and wave when you see toge ankle-deep in the water.

you speed up, lightly jogging toward him. he lifts you up slightly in a hug, which he had begun to do shortly after knowing you. when he began to do this to greet you, unable to do so properly with words, he blamed it on your inability to not fall onto him. this might have been partially true, but he really just wanted to touch you; touching you was one of the only ways that toge could express himself fully due to his condition.

you feel him huff softly in your ear and gently put you down, smiling back at you. he pulls his phone out, but instead of typing a message out he takes a picture of you-which you quickly try to protest once you realize what he's doing- the moon slightly highlighting your features. he then goes to his notes app to type a message,

'so pretty.'

you blush heavily, hopeful that the poor lighting was hiding this, but his grin says otherwise. he kisses your forehead softly, chuckling at the way your blush deepens afterward. you press your head into his shoulder and mutter a soft 'shut up.' when you look up into his eyes again, you expect him to be smiling goofily at you and try to do something stupid again, but he's not.

instead, he gazes at you softly, slowly reaching up to cup the side of your face and lean in slightly. your breath hitches as your eyes go wide, out of shock- or maybe fear.

one other thing you learned about toge: he always acted on his impulses. so, like many other times, he did the same by closing the distance between the two of you.

your lips moved slowly, softly pressing against each other before speeding your movements and holding onto his neck, wrapping your hands into his messy hair. when he eventually did pull away, he smiled at you like he always did: his friendly and goofy smile that made your heart drop. you never really had guy friends to this extent, maybe that was just normal.

so, when you went home that day, you called him like normal and everything seemed okay. things went back to how they were before, the same dynamic in place.

again, you didn't press on his privacy much, but everyday you two spent more time together you wished to know about anything from his personal life. you’ve learned that his parents aren’t quite in the picture, but you wanted to know more. so tonight, you finally asked. 

"toge.." he hums quietly at your calling, tilting his head slightly. "why don't you tell me anything about yourself?"

his eyebrows pinch together as he drops his hands from your face, shaking his head slowly. he lifts his phone again and types, opting to text you as your own phone lights up.

'soon, i promise. :)'

you roll your eyes in annoyance and look away, as he looks at you sadly, apology in his eyes, muttering "god knows when" to yourself.

when, exactly, was june 18th.

the stanley cup had finally come, and you of course came to support megumi. cheering loudly, you adorn yourself in shades of light and dark blues, the colors of their hockey team: the ice wolves.

their opposing team was their all-time rival and tied for the best team in the nhl: the blazes.

the stadium was loud, screaming coming from both sides as players zipped around each other and striked the puck, attempting to score a goal for their team. it was the final three minutes of the game and it was a tie- 3 for 3.

it happened fast and was hard to make out exactly what happened, but it was hard to miss once it did. the central attacker for the blazes, yuuta okkotsu, skated extremely close to inumaki, attempting to gain control of the puck multiple times. eventually, he shoved inumaki lightly, and his reaction was explosive.

inumaki quickly ripped off his gloves and threw them, landing somewhere on the ice. yuuta was quickly slammed into the glass railing and inumaki's fist met his face multiple times before yuuta fought back, grabbing his jersey and pushing him away. megumi intervened by shoving yuuta out of the way and screaming something you couldn't hear. though, as inumaki fell, his helmet loosened and eventually came off as he hit the ice.

cameras flashed at the speed of light before you could even react or fully see his face, quickly putting his helmet back on and skating off the ice as he was in penalty for the rest of the game.

you didn't check your phone much after the game, heading straight to the beach and spending almost all night there, but toge never showed. you eventually left and used your phone for entertainment, one news article catching your eye.

BREAKING NHL: MYSTERY PLAYER INUMAKI, OR "THE SNAKE" 'S IDENTITY HAS BEEN REVEALED

you click on the article, curious as you never got to get a good look at who he was at the game before he out his helmet back on. it took a second to load, but once it did-

toge.

you quickly text him, no doubt blowing up his phone with messages.

toge????

read 11:17 PM

this is why you've been hiding what you do??

read 11:30 PM

can you call me please

read 11:38 PM

this continued for weeks.

you failed to hear from or see toge at all, and he hadn't been spotted by any press either. you even resorted to texting megumi, begging to know where he was.

"i'm sorry, y/n, i seriously don't know" megumi sighed, "if i did i would tell you."

you turn around, walking out of the hockey arena exasperated. you were once again checking for him at the team's practices, and had even been asking megumi if he was showing up to them (he wasn't) or if he had seen him (he hadn't). not only were you worried sick about not seeing him at all, he was missing practice and faced the risk of getting suspended or removed from the team.

you walk to your car as quickly as possible, bumping into someone on your way out the door. you look up to say a quick sorry and flash a smile, when you see him.

"toge," you sigh, anxiety creeping in your voice. "where have you been?"

toge's eyes widen when he sees you, quickly grabbing your hand and delicately leading you to the first room he sees, a meeting room for the executives of the team. you were angry, furious, at him, shoving him away from you and tears quickly brimming in your eyes. you were hurt, and rightfully so. he quickly closes the blinds to the room and looks around frantically, spotting a whiteboard on the wall and quickly writing.

'im sorry im so so so sorry. let me explain- hold'

you turned away, reaching for the door handle, until he gently grabbed your arm and pointed you to the whiteboard, everything written.

‘im sorry y/n, i fucked up, i just genuinely freaked out and ghosted everyone. you have this fucked up effect on me and i can’t get you out of my damn head. i was being selfish and i am selfish because i love you and i know you deserve better but i don’t care. i love you’

you violently shake your head, tears falling from your eyes. “deserve better than me? what the hell are you talking about toge? all i’ve ever wanted is you, toge” your voice trembling and shaky. you couldn’t continue, burying your face in your hands.

he quickly embraces you fully, rubbing your back comfortingly and kissing the top of your head. he whispers so quietly, even you’re barely able to hear it. “im sorry.”

you hated him for what he did, and still all you wanted was for him to hold you. you didn't know what to do, so you did what became tradition for the two of you. you lean up to him, softly placing your hand on the side of his face and stroking your thumb against his cheek, his eyes fluttering shut as you both lean into each other.

the kiss starts slow, an apology. his hands hold your head and rub your back, begging you to forgive him through his movements. and you do, as your lips move more feverishly and your tongues begin clashing together, toge pushing you against the meeting table.

his lips move down to your neck, slowly taking off your tank top from that day. suddenly, you push yourself away from him and gasp, "toge- the door-" which he kisses you quickly again in response, quickly locking the door and moving back to you.

you become more intense than before, promptly undressing each other. once you are fully undressed, toge pulls away from you and takes you in, all of you. his eyes shift from longing to pure hunger, moving toward you again and moving lower, eventually moving to kissing and sucking the side of your breast. you moan quietly and tug his hair, when you feel a sharp sensation where his lips once were.

looking down, you quickly realized that he bit you, and you instantly become as ravenous as he was. you pull him toward you again, whispering, "please, toge. i need you."

he gives you a smirk before kissing your breast once more, then up your body until he reaches your lips, pushing into you slowly. you moan and wince slightly, he was bigger than anybody you had been with before. he notices your soft sound and gently caresses your face, looking at you with pure adoration in his eyes. he kisses your forehead carefully, waiting until you give him the go-ahead to start moving.

and once you do, you almost regret it. that feeling is quickly replaced with pleasure, though, as he pushes in and out of you desperately. another thing you've come to learn about toge, he sure can grunt despite his throat condition. you can barely hear the sounds he's making, though, over your whines and gasps. he continues to kiss you when hes pounding into you, sucking gently on your neck before biting once again, swiping his tongue over what would surely become visible marks in the following hours.

and every time he delivered a particularly sharp thrust or nipped into your skin, you responded by tugging his hair, eliciting soft whines from his lips and stuttered movements. once his movements became completely wild and based on instinct, you knew he was getting close, and so were you.

you pulled him closer than he was before, impossibly so. he pulls away to look at you, conflicted. you nod at him, "i'm on the pill, toge."

that was all the confirmation he needed before he thrusted into you for the final times, pushing completely inside of you and releasing. he moans at the feeling of you pulsing around him before slowly pulling out and pecking your lips repeatedly, mouthing i love you.

you pull him into a final kiss before getting dressed again, about to walk out to your car. he pulls you into him again, looking confused and pulling out his phone.

'where are you going?'

"what do you mean? i was gonna go home, we're friends again."

a flash of hurt strikes his features as he looks at you sadly, typing fast.

'friends? you're fucking kidding me. y/n, we just had sex.'

"yeah, well, you've kissed me before too and expected nothing out of it, so i didn't think this was different. i didn't think you actually felt the same."

he laughs at you, shaking his head and scoffing.

'y/n, we've never just been friends and i think we both know that. have i not been clear enough? maybe i should be more obvious about it.'

he pulls you in again, kissing you deeply and picking you up, throwing you onto his shoulder. you laugh and slap his back, telling him to put you down. he doesn't though, and carries you into the players lot where his white mustang was parked. he put you down in his passenger seat, fastening your seatbelt for you and kissing your cheek again before getting into the car and driving into the city.

even after months of being together, it still takes getting used to that the two of you are actually together.

the infamous toge inumaki, or 'the fangs' had to adjust to actually being in the spotlight with his identity being revealed. he was mainly concerned for you, as you had to deal with cameras following you around as well, interrupting quality time together. however, it wouldn't stop for a while as toge was never seen smiling, let alone in public, unless you were there. he was still largely feared by the public for his behavior on the ice, even with the increased publicity of him and you together in public.

you couldn't care less, though. all you cared about was the fact that you were finally with toge. he loved your smile, and you loved how he talked late at night, nobody being able to come in between the two of you. you both never let the phone ring, and everything small about the two of you made you love him even more. he was good to you, and you wanted him more than anything in between.

thank you so much for reading!! i plan on making more parts to this, message me if you want to be on my taglist!

[kyhora]

FRAUD ANALYSIS

(SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO WISH TO REMAIN BLIND)

"TRUST NOT YOUR EYES, TRUST NOT YOUR EARS."

MY OPENING THOUGHTS

I have... SO MANY THOUGHTS. There was a lot going on here with Fraud and it has absolutely surprised me in its presentation. I'll be talking about specific things to make it easier for me and for you, dear reader, to better understand and process what in the Hell is happening here.

PROVIDENCE

I was stupid and thought it was initially a seraphim because they have similar designs, but yk what Virtues look like Serpahims too so I dunno what I'm on abt LMAO.

I knew from the start the eye in the cover for In Absentia ΛΟΓΟΣ was related to an enemy after following the logic of Hear! The Siren Song Call of Death's preview with the Gutterman's shield. Despite that, oh my goodness this is a really sick design, the transparent, glassy feathers, the eye and how it looks like a slab placed onto the wings, it looks so WEIRD and I love it so much, for our third ever angel enemy, they delivered hard on its design.

I have seen some theories/speculation that Providence looks way too detailed/refined compared to other enemies, inferring that V1 is incapable of processing Providence's appearence. While I'm not opposed to the idea, I don't necessarily subscribe to it, I think Providence is just a really big model which leaves a lot of room for details to be refined. If V1 can process a Virtue, it can process a Providence.

It looks obnoxious with that magenta beam, I don't even wanna know what it does on Brutal LMAO. Surprisingly brittle for an 8th layer enemy though or maybe it retains similar damage multipliers as a Virtues which is why the Electric Railcannon did so much damage to it, idk. I don't have much else to really say about Providence other than the fact it's a visually impressive pain in the asshole, can't wait to see it for the first time and want to kill it harder than every other enemy in a Cybergrind wave.

FRAUD'S AESTHETICS

Fun fact abt myself: I REALLY FUCKING LOVE LIMINAL SPACES. I love liminal spaces with all my heart, they're a really cool form of atmospheric horror (don't confuse this with the backrooms, I hate that shit). Fraud basing itself off of liminal spaces is really damn neat and honestly makes sense, since Hakita even mentioned how during development for 7-1: THE GARDEN OF FORKING PATHS, he tried out stuff like myhouse.wad and ofc read House of Leaves. Besides his own inspirations, it makes perfect sense to use liminal aesthetics here, vaguely familiar halls and rooms met with a reality that defies logic, very fraud if I do say so myself.

Gonna post some pictues of rooms I really like and add any commentary if need be.

Really sick opening room, I love the weird wallpaper, the lamps, just everything here and how its placed is perfect. It perfectly gives off that liminal vibe that this layer is wanting to play into. I adore liminal spaces that feel like it was something built by something that doesn't know how to be human, it gives off such an errie vibe.

A friend on Discord found a theory on Reddit about this and omg it's actually kinda neat

I was squealling when I saw this for the first time. My friend in the vc I was streaming this too said it was all they could hear throughout the trailer LMFAOOO. If there is one thing I'll mention, it's that I think it's funny how apparently Fraud has television but Lust doesn't. What a bunch of bums /j. i do think Lust is more advanced and prolly have TVs, but this is our first official TV in ULTRAKILL

What a banger fucking opening. I adore this shot so much, and honestly it's reminiscent of those liminal space images of hotel hallways like these:

The transition of the hallway shifting to the checkpoint is so fucking awesome too. fun thing I noticed was that there was a low buzzing sound, like when you press yourself up to the walls of Limbo. Not sure if it implies anything or is an audio indicator of shifting realities.

WHAT A COOL ASS ROOM. I LOVED THE TRANSITION HERE SO MUCH, MY JAW DROPPED WATCHING THE WALLS SHIFT TO MAKE IT BIGGER. I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE IF THIS IS GONNA DO ANYTHING MORE THAN JUST THIS AS THE LAYER GOES ON. After seeing this trailer at least 50 times already, I'm curious about how this room instigates the combat, since there's plenty of shots that have V1 walking back to the room or walking into other rooms from the doors. Fun to think about the frustration of getting lost in this place, finding yourself back, and then BOOM ! ENEMY ENCOUNTER ! ! !

Such a banger shot too, I love these kinda infinite mirror-esque rooms for non-euclidian stuff. An interesting detail are that the lion statues actually have a lion head unlike the one Limbo. I love how much this feels like a hotel, it has that eerie transitional vibe hotels can have but has this "first class" vibe to it all.

Really fun shot too. Love non-euclidian stuff playing with gravity and such.

I know I already said my jaw dropped but like... MY JAW. DROPPED. I mentioned it to my oomfies before but it looks a lot like the The Empyrean from Dante's Inferno:

Will mention this here because I don't wanna post images that are basically the same; but the other side of the skybox is noticably darker. Maybe it's this layer's day/night cycle? Not too sure but feels logical to me. I love how this layer is leaning into the heavenly imagery, I'm so curious about what kinda lore bits we're gonna get, and considering how we got a new angel enemy, we hopefully probably get some new angel lore. If Virtues and Gabriel were the only angels to have resided in Hell, makes me interested in if other angels are coming down from heaven, either to help Gabriel, or avenge the council by killing him.

I love that we're jumping from rooftops to others, nice change of scenery from the claustrophobic, eerie rooms inside the towers. I am happy the layer is still paying homage to the "tower of lies" idea by having us climb up them, jumping between them, and all that stuff.

Once again with the nonsensical prop placement. Why does this room have tables and chairs when there's nothing to eat or any other reason to lounge about here. Really interesting environmental storytelling, I'm confused and I LOVE IT.

Doth my eyes deceive ?

A NEW HOOK POINT ? ? ?

Sick transition but what's with the door on the right ? I wonder if it means anything or is just a visual indicator for where to go... hrmmmm...

"I'M BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN??????"

Cool transition to the TV again, but I love the sharp contrast of aesthetics here. Again with the nonsensical placement of props but at least all the props share a theme ? ? ? Makes me curious if the next level or the next segment of 8-1: HURTBREAK WONDERLAND is gonna involve the poolrooms. I really hope it does. It's a really cool liminal space aesthetic that I think would be reallly interesting see and makes sense to mesh in with the liminal space inspirations of Fraud.

If curious abt the poolrooms:

with all that trailer analysis done, time to yap abt my thoughts of everything we've seen with some theories and speculation of my own :3

WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON ?

In Dante's Inferno, Fraud has 10 blogias (circles) that had specific punishments for different kinds of fraudulant behavior, but here in this Fraud ? Is the punishment here that the sinner is in a non-euclidian hotel being driven mad by the isolation and non-sensical rooms? It feels too much like Limbo if that is what's being done here, and besides, there's smaller buildings, there's rivers, there's all sorts of pleasant stuff here, what if maybe Fraud had its own renaissance like Lust ? Maybe the angels are doing something here with Fraud ? I'm honestly confused by what is happening here, I have no ideas for what happened to this layer, but for now I have my other thoughts about the explanations for the aesthetics, potential stuff going, on so forth. Just thought I'd bring up my confusion since I don't really have many ideas for the punishments here.

THE INFINITE HOTEL

With Fraud's aesthetics, I believe Fraud is going to be a hotel and each level is us descending into the kinds of rooms that would be in a hotel, like how in the first level we're in the hallways of what is presumably the place where all the rooms, while the second rooms takes us to a place that resembles the pools of hotels (hence why I believe in 8-2 poolrooms), and etc.

I also kinda see Hilbert's Hotel/The Infinite Hotel Paradox to be a form of inspiration for this place, an infinite hotel, houses infinite guests, and since mankind is dead...

explanation of the paradox:

If we look at Wrath, it feels like the logic of the infinite hotel checks here too, since the river styx began to become bigger following The Final War, and instantly became flooded after mankind's mysterious, biblical extinction. After so many new sinners entered the layer of Wrath, the river adapted to be the ocean, nothing changed, just more people in it now, and how the Ferrymen have grown acustomed to the new environment as well. Fraud after mankind's extinction made there have to be more rooms, and yet, all the "guests" have been accounted for.

A FALSE PARADISE

An idea I have is that Hell Itself rennovated Fraud to resemble the Lust Renaissance, to cruely trick the denizens of Fraud that they escaped the layer and found a comforting place in Hell, and in their delusion, unknowingly still roam around the endless halls of Fraud, finding a twisted pleasure in the false senses of hope the sinners are under.

Idk if I really agree with this idea, because why are there statues of Providence, why is there such heavenly imagery in this layer if this idea suggests it wants to be like Lust ? Maybe it instead wants to be a false Heaven ? But if that's the case, why are the towers and their architecture anything but ? I am lost over what this layer is wanting to be, it's obvious that every layer had their own punishments, either the punishments were directly shown to us in the layer (like Heresy's coffins, Wrath's ocean, and Violence's trees), or at least were mentioned, like with Lust's winds. But here in Fraud ? I have no idea what the punishment is here. Like. At all. It leaves me curious for what's in store and what is going to be explained, or maybe some theories are gonna be absolutely banger, who knows.

NEW ENEMIES & LORE

Soooo new enemies are coming, I believe we are either getting one or 2, potentially a new husk and 2 new angels. We already got Providence, a new husk feels right since it's been a while since we got one, and I am a firm believe that the angel statue from Limbo and the other layers is gonna be either our new arm OR new enemy. Plz. Give us more Angel lore. I'm on my hands and knees, Hakita, I need to know what they're like. I know we're in Hell so Heaven has far less involvement than if it was the other way around, but I still have to know. I GOTTA KNOW.

SOON™ (this year)

Also felt like talking about this because it's weirdly kinda confusing ? ? ? Looked into the general "soon" of New Blood and at times it's basically like. TOMORROW ? To which I think is not gonna happen if we read the description of In Absentia ΛΟΓΟΣ and how Hakita says they're still working on it (the first level I'd assume), so I dunno if in ONE MONTH they were able to just create the entirety of the Fraud layer that fast, hence why the (this year) addition makes me feel like they're releasing it maybe before the holiday season ? Who knows ! :P With the understanding that Fraud had troubles in development which led to the ULTRA_REVAMP update, maybe production got much easier after the enemy rework ? I've no idea honestly. But whatever happens, I'm gonna be there the MOMENT it releases.

Yeah erm that's kinda it for now hope you enjoyed reading the delusion of a mad person that squealed like a pathetic person during the trailer and the preview they did before the trailer. If anyone would like to talk by all means, talk to me in dms or message @cyhora on Discord ! ! !

[accio-victuuri]

why the number 8 is xiao zhan’s number.

well. initially….

cause in the cpf fandom and i guess in the circle in general, 8 is Bo. which is yibo. but there were a lot of 8s in xz’s life before he met WYB. coincidence or fate? who knows? 🤷🏻‍♀️

In 2016, Super Star Academy started script reading on 3/18 with 8 teenagers starring in it, and his role was a (disguised) Leo. x玖少年团, he is number 8, started hatching eggs on 8/28, XZ previewed on 9/8, officially debuted on 9/28, and held the full nine on 10/28.

XZ’s debut trailer is 38 seconds. At 21:08 on 9/23, the official debut live broadcast platform was announced, and at 21:28 on 925, the number of ticket grabbers was increased. On 9/28, the debut day, Xiao Zhan's single-camera thank-you audio was 28 seconds; the official blog released the debut group variety show plan at 18:08, which was 38 seconds long.

On the first day after debut, the group variety show Xiao Zhan's personal preview was released at 18:08. After debuting, the second round of previews for Xiao Zhan, at the 18th second, he caressed his number 8 affectionately.

X玖’s first album has 3 songs, and the third one is called "Eight Methods of Yong Zi". The official blog started the preview at 12:08. The next day, he himself transferred the sound source at 11:38.

The second song "Boys", the official blog posted the first show video at 20:48, and released "Light Waves of Love" at 13:48. The first song is called "In My Own Name". When the MV was released, the official blog used the words "In my own name, perform for you". The official stage version lasted 3:48 and was released at 10:58. After debuting, the official blog posted a declaration at 14:38 (I Zanbo) "In my own name, accompany you". (Do you understand why he entered the circle?)

After debuting, X玖 had two series of live broadcasts, 3 episodes of wheel live broadcasts, in which he sang "Little Ghost Gives You Some Sweetness"; 8 episodes of the Youth Channel, the first opening show was "Over the Rainbow" sung by Xiaohong and Xiaolu (which has it’s own significance) was shared @ 18:00

There is also an interesting card point. On Xiao Zhan’s birthday, the official Weibo of X玖 reposted it at 0:18~

Whew! that’s alot of numbers! lot’s 18s! 😅😅😅 all i can say is the universe works in ways we will never understand. especially with these two! 💕

there are so much more incidents that i can’t possibly post here and explain. but you all get the idea.

[reccyls]

Victor's route preview

What the queen's aide was hiding was the face of the reaper that had given up on everything, and a secret of the queen that could shake the entire country.

Memories of the past overlap with the present. This is the story of a predetermined fate.

"Now, open your mouth wider. Accept this kiss from the reaper. Let us fall together, to the depths of hell."

---

My evil. That is what I traded my freedom for.

In my memories, the sound of a music box echoes. I no longer remembered anything about the person who wiped away my tears. However, that kiss on my forehead that fell like a blessing... I will never forget.

Victor: If anything happens, don't hesitate to tell me. Victor: I'll be sure to deal with anything that bothers our precious Fairytale Keeper!

The man called Victor--founder of Crown, collector of a mistmatched assortment of Cursed Ones, who worked in the palace as the queen's aide who spoke on her behalf--was bright, and kind, and funny, and laid back. But he hardly ever spoke about himself.

Victor: Will you help me with my work, Kate?

In order to understand him better, I started helping Victor with his duties. But I couldn't imagine what would happen.

Kate: W-what...

I saw a number of men slumped over in an alleyway, looks of rapture on their faces with their hands wrapped around their own necks. And in the middle of all of them was Victor.

Victor: ...Kate.

A cold stare and a wave of death.

Kate: S-sorry. I-

Victor: Kate.

After witnessing that shocking scene, our relationship changed.

Roger: What, you want to know why Victor's being so overprotective over you? Roger: He probably wants to make sure you can return to your normal, peaceful life.

However, even though I knew he was doing this to keep me safe,

Victor: I know that you are here because of your determination. But it is out of selfishness that I want to keep you far away from death.

Both as a person, and as Crown's Fairytale Keeper, I resolved to face Victor again. As days passed in a dizzying blur...

(...Ah. That's it.) (I'm in love with Victor.)

I realized my growing feelings. But falling in love is not the end of the story. I discovered the secret he had been hiding for all this time.

Leader-like man: So the rumors were true after all. Leader-like man: The queen is--!!

???: I hereby declare, under the name of the king. ???: ...Now, swear your loyalty to my evil.

[TL note: here, the speaker uses 俺 (ore)]

That the lonely reaper had sacrificed everything.

Kate: ...William told me about your past.

Victor: ...Did he?

Kate: ...You never said anything. Kate: I wanted you to tell me, if you believed in me. And if you couldn't, then I wanted you to stop being so nice to me. Kate: If we never met...

Victor: Would you like that? If we had never met.

He, who wishes only for those he loves to live happily in freedom, gave up his own happiness long ago. I just want you to be happy, to not give up on living as a person.

Victor: Kate! Victor: It's okay, I'm here.

And just as I longed for his happiness, he has also, for longer than anyone else, watched over me--

Victor: It's all right, Kate. Victor: Do your best, and I will do the same.

--he has always wished for my happiness.

Victor: ...I have always been watching over you. Victor: I was the one who made sure we would meet again a third time, Kate.

The one thing that the reaper could not give up on, when he had discarded everything else, was this love.

Victor: If you once again appear before Will and return here... Victor: Then there is no other way to call it than destiny.

At the end of hesitation, confusion, and falling in love, memories of the past overlap with the present.

Victor: But even so, if... if you choose to share your fate with them... Victor: The darkness will gladly welcome you.

At the culmination of everything, I readied my heart and found myself face to face with the reaper. And taking his hand of my own free will, I started walking down the path to destruction.

Victor: I pledge my eternal loyalty to you, my beloved, and to evil. Victor: ...I love you so much that it's driving me mad.

This was destined from the day we first met. This story called fate.

[soonellow]

Summer love °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ [preview]

tags: soonyoung x reader, fluff, strangers to lovers, rich!reader, non-idol!hoshi, summer fling, first times, streetsmart x booksmart, slowburn, friends to lovers, teenage love

It was that time of year again—summer break was finally here. This year felt a little different. For the first time, you were spending it alone; your sister chose a summer camp instead of a resort in the Maldives. So it was just you and your parents, who were practically glued together. Determined not to be the third wheel, you decided to make new friends as soon as you arrived at the resort.

While lounging by yourself, a tall guy with blonde hair plopped down across from you, his eyes glued to his phone. You cleared your throat playfully, and he looked up, startled, jumping a little and making you giggle.

"Sorryyy" he said, flustered.

"It's fine; no one was sitting there anyway," you replied with a smile.

He looked at you, surprised. "You're alone?"

"Not really. My parents are just being all lovey-dovey, and I needed to escape! I don't know how I'm going to survive the next three months like this," you joked.

He chuckled and settled back in his chair. "I came with my friends, but they’re all still asleep. Trusting Dino after he promised he wouldn't drink was a bad idea," he said with a playfully, earning a smile from you.

"I'm Yn," you introduced.

"Soonyoung," he replied.

Maybe making friends won’t be as hard as you thought….. just friends right?

[minhosimthings]

Preview: Sweet as Cherry Wine

In which the cold librarian's heart gets melted by his best friend's sister

Synopsis: Kim Seungmin was the assistant librarian at your uni's library and the love of your life. Oh and also your brother's best friend.

Pairings: Seungmin × fem!reader, includes rest of skz, Winter (aespa)

Warnings: brother's best friend trope, a play on Hades and Persephone, secret relationship, flufff, seungmin is a menace, SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), verryyy little choking, slightly sub minnie?, just a lot of me simping after his fingies, semi public sex (in the library)

A/N: whadup mona fam. Surprised im alive? yeah me too honestly lol. anyway im very sick rn BUT i wanted to complete this because this shit has been stuck in my wips since september 2023 and anyway it's my Minnie phase. Please look forward to the full fic!!!

STATUS: POSTED

FULL FIC

“And how she let the pomegranate juice,

Drip from her smiling lips,

Even Hades trembled under sweet Persephone’s gaze.”

The tantalising smell of old leather and paper hugged your nostrils as soon as you crossed the threshold of the outdoors into the library. The entire room had the faint smell of sandalwood wafting through it as well, which your lungs appreciated as you breathed the air in.

Having spent only six months in your university as a freshman, you had never dared to step foot into the university’s famed collection of books more than five times. You were far too intimidated by it. That, and also the fact that you had a tremendous amount of work hanging over your head. And you certainly did not want to disappoint your parents, who worked day and night in ensuring that you had a proper education.

“Y/Nnie come on!” Your friend, Jeongin, grabbed your hand and dragged you further into the grand building. Jeongin was the first friend you had made in college, having argued furiously with him in your sociology class on the modern feminist forms of thought. Deciding that he was smart enough to never keep you bored, you promptly shook hands with him. He must have thought so too, because the very next day, he introduced you to his band of friends, with whom he had grown up since childhood.

And now, you could see one of those friends waving to the both of you from a very large table. It was Lee Minho–dance prodigy, archeology student in his third year, frequent arson enthusiast and a cat dad. That was what you had gotten from him, six months into your friendship

“Hyung!” Jeongin practically leapt on the stunningly beautiful man as soon as he came near him, “I’ve missed you so much!”

Minho made a face of disgust, but you could see the faint smile threatening to spill out as he hugged Jeongin back.

“Let go of me before I suffocate you, brat.” Minho said, giving you a smile as Jeongin reluctantly pulled back, “Alright, Y/N?”

“Good as always.” You responded with a grin. “Oh, congratulations on your win at the Dance Masters by the way!” Minho tilted his head at you as a ‘thank you’, with his ears turning furiously red, and his smile widening.

“And what about me?” A smooth voice made you jump as the ever-present smile of Hwang Hyunjin appeared before your eyes.

“Give me a warning before you pop out of nowhere!” You laughed, being engulfed into a tight hug by Hyunjin, “And congratulations to you, as well.”

“Why thank you.” Hyunjin did a dramatic sort of curtsy after unleashing you from his arms, “Hyung, have you seen Lix anywhere? He forgot his keychain with me.”

“He’s still stuck in class.” Minho muttered, raising his arms up abruptly and stretching with a very loud sigh, “My bones are so stiff, I swear to God.”

“Could you keep it down, old man?”

Perhaps the most annoying voice in the entire campus rang in your ears as you spun on your heel to see the bane of your existence. The world’s most insidious bastard faced you, in the form of a 5 '10, history-majoring, glasses-wearing, probably drinks pomegranate juice in the morning sophomore.

Kim Seungmin.

The universe couldn't have made a more negative person.

And a more perfect secret boyfriend too.

Taglist: @vixensss @miyeonna @15092000volcano @berntbang @cookiesandcreammy @babrieeee

[missidk1121]

A Cozy Bloom ☕️ (Preview)

Pairing: Dino x Fem!Reader

Estimated word count: 20K+

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comedy

Tags: Barista!Chan, Software Engineer!Reader, Best Friends to Lovers, fluff, humor, one-sided pining to mutual pining, very light on angst, OT13, other members as helpful (and unhelpful) side characters

Story Synopsis: You and Chan have always appreciated the quiet moments, whether it’s enjoying your favorite hobbies together or drinking the coffee he makes for you at The Cozy Bloom. And somehow, even through uncertainty and changing dreams, they blossom into something even better.

Author’s Note: So excited to post this story I’ve been working on nonstop for the last month!!! A little bummed I can’t get it fully finished before posting it, but I feel so grateful to be able to contribute to this fandom I’ve been a part of for so long now! This story will be available here and on AO3. It will be updated regularly, likely weekly but that’s TBD. The first chapter will be posted May 26! 💎

The sunrise began to pour through the windows, its light shining through behind you to cast a soft glow around your figure. You and him in the café at sunrise. No one else but the two of you sitting across from each other at a small table in the corner as you quietly drink the coffee he made for you.

The two of you sat in the peace of an empty café for a while longer before the bell rang.

“Morning, Chan!” entered Seungkwan, stopping abruptly when he didn’t see anyone behind the counter. He looked around to find you and Chan. “Oh, there you are. And look who else is here! Good morning!”

You waved at him. “Good morning, Seungkwan.”

The door opened again, this time with Vernon moseying in. He let out a yawn, the words muffled as he said, “Morning. You’re here early.”

“Yeah, thought I’d bug Chan for a quiet drink before the morning rush,” you said. Then you glanced down at your watch. “Well, I’d better start heading toward the office.” You searched your wallet and pulled out some cash, placing it on the table in front of Chan.

Getting up, you turned toward him, facing away from the others as you quietly added “Plus a big tip,” with a wink before quickly heading toward the door, leaving him amused by your subtle burst of spontaneity, still yet a rare thing but was becoming more and more frequent.

“Later, guys!”

“Bye! Good luck today! Fighting!” Chan cheered.

“Fighting!” Seungkwan and Vernon joined.

The door shut behind you, and you looked through the window for a moment, raising your fist along with them before rushing off.

The three of them watched you cross the street, and as soon as you were out of sight Seungkwan gave Chan a curious look.

“Sooo, how are things between you two?”

Vernon nodded approvingly. “That looked like progress.”

“Knock it off,” Chan said, rolling his eyes. “I keep telling you, it’s not like that.”

“Sitting together alone in the café? At sunrise? That’s not the first time that’s happened either,” Seungkwan said, mocking suspicion.

Chan grabbed the cash and walked toward the register, saying “Listen here, busybody: we only do that sometimes. And besides, it’s not like she sees it that way.”

“Okay, first of all,” rebutted Seungkwan, “I am merely invested in the story between you two. Second, you two did this a couple days ago. She came in this early, on a Saturday. And third, how do you know she doesn’t see it that way?”

Chan couldn’t offer a counterpoint. He knew you like the back of his hand, as though you were one side and he was the other. You were, aside from that off-the-cuff wink a minute ago, rigid in a way that made you predictable. Over time he had picked up on what you liked and didn’t like, how to read between the lines of your stoic expressions. And yet, he couldn’t tell what you thought about your quiet mornings together, or the times you spent with each other outside the café, from dance classes, to movies at your place, dinner at his place, or just hanging out anywhere in between. He knew you liked them, but he wasn’t sure you felt anything beyond that.

Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling either. Moments like earlier, moments that had once felt temperate and pleasant but somewhere along the lines had stirred into a tender warmth, over and over again. They’ve become so commonplace, a routine ingrained in his everyday life, a habit he can’t break. They were so familiar now that trying to picture anything beyond them feels too uncomfortable.

Thankfully, the door opened again, the bell snapping Chan out of his spiralling thoughts as customers began to line up, prompting Seungkwan and Vernon to quickly get moving behind the counter.

“Get to work, you two!” Chan said almost— no, definitely smugly.

“Agh, just because you’ve worked here longer than we have doesn’t mean you get to treat us like we’re younger than you!” Seungkwan huffed as he shooed Chan away from the front counter.

“Saved by the bell,” Vernon remarked.

[late-to-the-party-81]

A heart for love

AN: It’s the first week of Hot Bucky Summer, so obviously I’ve decided to go with Angst. And so I don’t break tradition with the previous two years, we’re catching up with Subby, Beefy Bucky and his Smol Dom Steve (which also means they get their own series heading so you can find them more easily!) I’ve chosen the prompt ‘Mind your own damn business!’ Thanks to @buckybarnesevents for bringing this event back for a third year.

Beta’d by @burnin-brighter

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Summary: It would be easy, understandable even, for Bucky to be angry and upset about how he’s had to take a back seat during all of this corporate turmoil, but in fact the hardest thing for him has been watching Steve go through it as though he’d encased himself in a forcefield. Outside of those brief, sleepy night-time cuddles they’d barely touched. Barely kissed. Sure, they’d had dry spells before, but nothing at all like this. It wasn’t really the sex he was missing, although obviously he did miss it – who wouldn’t?–, it was the lack of intimacy. It was the absence of talking. It was the inability to ‘take care of each other’. Because Steve had cut himself off and all Bucky could do was watch.

Relationship: Beefy Bucky x Smol Steve

Word Count: 2k

CW: Stress, Anger, Angst, Arguments, Sad bois, mentions of D/S relationship

It’s been clear to Bucky that Steve was stressed which, given his job, is not that unusual, but this wasn’t normal levels. No, this was stressed with a capital S-T-R-E-S-S-E-D. Bucky’s barely seen him in three weeks, only knowing Steve’s even in their home because of the trash can overflowing with Door-dash packaging and because Bucky himself stirs slightly when Steve finally comes to bed late and inevitably gets up early. Even when he’s working from home, Steve is holed up in his office, the door shut, whereas normally it would be open so Bucky could smile and wave at him when he arrived home from his own days in the capitalist grind.

It’s been a little like this before, when there have been other campaigns for Steve to execute, but those other times had just been the warm-up — the preview — for this. The campaign to end all campaigns. Stark Industries teaming up with SHIELD Inc. The ramifications of the joint project between two such business giants were going to be felt around the globe, and Steve was the one in charge of controlling the narrative. A narrative that was always on the cusp of changing with the whims of Tony Stark.

It would be easy, understandable even, for Bucky to be angry and upset about how he’d had to take a back seat during all of this corporate turmoil, but in fact the hardest thing for him has been watching Steve go through it as though he’d encased himself in a forcefield. Outside of those brief, sleepy night-time cuddles they’d barely touched. Barely kissed. Sure, they’d had dry spells before, but nothing at all like this. It wasn’t really the sex he was missing, although obviously he did miss it — who wouldn’t? —, it was the lack of intimacy that was leaving him heartsore. It was the absence of talking. It was the inability to ‘take care of each other’. Because Steve had cut himself off and all Bucky could do was watch like he was an outsider.

Watch as Steve’s expression got more and more pinched as the circles under his eyes darkened.

Watch as the frown lines across Steve’s forehead took up a more permanent residence, erasing that boyish joie de vivre that made Steve, Steve.

Watch as Steve only ate to survive and not to enjoy, his slim, lithe frame moving a bit too far towards skinny for Bucky’s liking.

If he thought he could get away with it, Bucky would use his own, superior bulk to hold his Dom down, force-feed him pulled pork, mash and greens until he couldn’t eat any more and then slurp his cock down until Steve went cross-eyed and passed out. Not that he’d ever tell Steve what to do or try to change their roles, but acts of service were his love-language, and not being able to do any, especially when he could see they were needed, hurt Bucky more than anything else he could imagine. However, he knew he could make it better. All he required was a window of opportunity.

Because both Steve and Tony could get blinkered at times like this, Bucky knew there would be some slack built into the schedule somewhere — Tony’s wife Pepper wouldn’t allow it any other way, and that woman was scary AF. If she said jump, Tony would ask not only how high but also where too. She had no patience for her husband’s hyperfocus shenanigans so would ensure that there was a period of time set aside for both him and Steve to come up for air. All Bucky had to do was find out when the break was planned for — even if it was just a two hour long lunch break a week next Tuesday. A peek at Steve’s work calendar was all he’d need and then he could put Operation ‘Care for my Boyfriend and Dom’ into action. 

Which is how Bucky found himself hovering in the doorway of Steve’s office while the man himself was in the shower. Despite all the pressure, there was no way the diminutive Dom was going to lower his hygiene standards, even if his healthy eating and sleeping routines were out the window. However, the chaos had still had an impact on the time he spent on his ablutions, so Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d actually have for his well intentioned snooping. Usually Steve ran through a cycle of show tunes in the shower, but his soured and stressed mood had knocked that on the head for the time being. Bucky had found that he was actually missing the regular off-key rendition of One Day More. However, despite not having a time-frame, there was still no time like the present.

Darting a look over his shoulder before he started to move, Bucky made his way into Steve’s office. Normally, at this time in the evening — a few hours before their normal bedtime — there would be nothing out on the antique desk other than a notepad with a clean, fresh sheet on top and a pen lying parallel to its top edge. In fact it was normally like this almost as soon as Bucky got home (unless, of course, they were having a bit of a ‘cheeky’ day and it had been a while since one of those) and by the time dinner rolled around the office door would be firmly closed, work done for the day. 

Currently, however, Steve’s laptop computer was still out on the desk, the notepad, covered in Steve’s spidery writing, lying askew next to it, surrounded by chewed pencils. Across the room, the trashcan was both filled with and surrounded by crumpled sheets, a sign of Steve’s ongoing frustrations. Bucky couldn’t help but tidy up the rubbish, despite it not being the best way to remain ‘stealthy’. It was clear to him that Steve hadn’t really been aware of it building up and he knew that once Steve did finally notice, it would put him in an even worse mood — his personal neatness was part of his control. 

With that little side quest completed, Bucky crossed to the desk. Although the laptop screen was locked, working out Steve’s password wasn’t actually too difficult. For someone who was the head of marketing for a Fortune 500 firm, Steve really should have picked something better than his partner’s government name paired with their anniversary date to secure all of the proprietary data contained on the device. Luckily, Bucky wasn’t looking for any corporate secrets, only Steve’s Outlook Calendar to see when the small gap had been scheduled for. 

So caught up in his task, scrolling and clicking the mouse and wondering why Steve had his calendar set to week view and not month view, Bucky didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

“What the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?” It was a growl that rumbled through the room even as it came through gritted teeth, and Bucky jumped away, the wireless mouse clattering to the floor as he did so and his hands coming up in front of him in an automatic defense. As he looked up, guilt writ large across his face, Bucky knew he made a bad decision. He’d never seen Steve look so angry, or at least never seen it directed at him before. He gulped deeply and felt the flames of embarrassment crawl up his neck and into his cheeks.

Steve, clad only in a towel, stepped forward and barged his shoulder into Bucky’s chest, making him move back even further. Two taps from Steve’s tapered fingers and the laptop was locked again, and Bucky was being stared down by those bright blue eyes. Steve crossed his arms over his chest and his bare foot taped against the floor.

“You got anything to say, Buck?”

Fuck. He felt like a toddler who’d been caught climbing the worktop to reach the cookie jar. His hands, now lowered, were wrung together, fingers twisting and turning around each other.

“I’m not snooping. No corporate espionage here. I just wanted to see when you might have a bit of free time. You’ve been so busy lately and—”

“And what, Bucky?” Steve rudely interrupted. “You’re that needy that you can’t cope without a fuck for a couple of weeks? I’m busy, so sorry that I can’t cater to all your whims.”

It struck Bucky in that moment that this was their first ever fight. Normally they were so good with their communication — their dynamic made it that way with constant consent check-ins and negotiations of scenes — so how had it come to this? He wasn’t even sure how he was feeling about it, with it all happening so fast, but he had to try and explain himself.

“It’s not about the sex. I’m worried about you, Steve. This campaign — it’s really doing a number on you. You’ve lost weight, you’re not sleeping enough. Hell, your worry lines have worry lines.”

Apparently, Steve wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear what he had to say.

“Mind your own damn business!” Steve snapped out. His own skin was as flushed as Bucky’s, but his was obviously due to rage, not embarrassment. “You have no idea what this level of responsibility is like. We can’t all be like you, paddling along doing the minimum required to get by, relying on others to sort the hard stuff!”

Bucky blinked sharply like he’d been slapped and stepped back. But he didn’t cower. He might be a subby bottom in the bedroom, but he was no pushover. Instead he straightened his spine, despite the tears that threatened to spill over his lower lids.

“That was mean and uncalled for.” His voice was even, but quiet. “You know I’m only trying to help. Of course I know you’re busy and stressed and maybe I went about this the wrong way, but I love you and wanted to make sure you’re okay. And so what if I don’t have the best head for business? At least I’ve got the best heart for love, which in my book is way more important.” He stepped away, heading for the door. Looking back over his shoulder, he added “I think maybe you ought to stay in the spare room tonight,” before heading towards their bedroom.

He wasn’t sure if he actually heard the whispered “Buck—” from behind him, but he knew if he stopped then he’d start to cry, and he didn’t want to do that until he was behind a closed door.

As soon as the door shut behind him, even before he’d crashed down onto the bed, Bucky’s tears started to fall. They started as a quiet trickle, but rapidly increased to waterfalls before turning to outright sobs. Curled up on the bed with his arms hugging a pillow (that might have been Steve’s and smelt of his shampoo and cologne) tightly to him, his chest heaved and his lung burned as his hurt, tinged with embarrassment and shame, flowed out of him. Okay, he might have fucked up a little – maybe a lot –, but he knew he didn’t deserve those cruel words that Steve had flung his way.

In the three and a half years they’d been together the worst thing they’d argued over was which brand of toilet paper to use, so to hear Steve accusing him of — Bucky wasn’t actually even sure. Of being a little dumb? Being a himbo? Sure, his level of work responsibility was nowhere near Steve’s, but he wasn’t an idiot. He worked hard, put in effort and was rewarded for it. And from the word go, the disparity in their jobs — their earnings — had never been an issue. They both work hard at their respective employments and that was that. What had been more important was their connection. 

That had been undeniable from the moment they’d met. They way they each seemed to be the part the other had been looking for. And although he’d been a little impatient at the time, he was thankful for how Steve had put the brakes on them falling into a physical relationship — albeit for only a short time — because it allowed them to really get to know each other and have those important conversations.

So where had it all gone wrong?

Ch 2

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

@christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds,

@crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin,

@king814318, @scram1326

[ellitx]

Pls share those yandere Alastor concepts with us sometime! No rush and no specific request at this point, but I would love to see more of what’s on your mind, I really enjoyed the first one! :)

Yandere Alastor concepts

well this isn’t really a spoiler per se but i suppose i’ll give everyone a preview of Alastor and darling’s relationship since it’s going to be mentioned a lot (albeit in little details) in the upcoming stories

first part | second part | third part

word count: 1.4k

warnings: fem!reader

Before arriving at hell:

Alastor and darling are colleagues in the radio station they worked at.

She works as the scriptwriter and is in charge of creating the scripts for him (mostly for the weekly Saturday gossip)

Eventually, the longer you worked together, the less Alastor needed a script since he’s good at ad libbing

But he finds an excuse he needs one so you can visit his office and give it to him. For example, he needs a proper guideline for his upcoming broadcast

Most of the time he’ll invite you for a coffee inside and you’re worried your boss may find you slacking off the longer you stay, but Alastor reassures you it’s still job related discussion

He’d offer you a cup and you happily accept it

Once he knows you also prefer teas, expect there are several options prepared (mostly coffee cuz he doesn’t like teas)

After work, if it’s getting too late, he’d offer to walk you back home, AND he even gestures to you to hold onto his arm which you really find it sweet

Now Alastor’s a real gentleman. You find that very charming and you brush off his little touches such as his hands lingering a little longer when giving his script or when he stands next to you while the producer tells you the new ideas and his arm is brushing over yours

But Alastor can never forget the time you patted his head and praised him

He was flabbergasted. Shocked even. His smile was stiff like a mask. Then he looked away from your gaze and quickly walked towards the door

You were worried if you did something wrong due to his abrupt departure. Maybe he wasn’t comfortable being treated like that more than you thought

If only you knew what was going on in his mind…

The next day he was back to his usual self, but more chirpy and lively. It somehow unnerved you but you disregarded such thought and waved at him.

As usual with work life, you wrote the new script, your producer stayed back to give suggestions on how to improve the script, and Alastor was supposed to prepare himself for the recording.

Nope.

He stayed and tweaked the script. He would brush against you, giving you small jolts each time, and every time you subtly turned around, his glazed eyes met yours and you quickly returned to your typewriter.

His gaze is more intense. As if a hawk is waiting for their prey to take a step out of line. When you turned your face away, Alastor continued to watch you from behind. Your heart was beating so fast, you wished you could leave the booth and go back to the comfort of your house.

After the success of the latest episode, you weren’t expecting an invitation for a nightcap, especially coming from the infamous radio host. With the recent market crash making stable income a rarity, you found yourself hesitating.

Yet Alastor was persistent and he insisted on footing the bill. The urge to decline was strong, yet as you opened your mouth to refuse, his expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly while his never-faltering grin remained unchanged.

“How could you refuse him?” Your inner voice scolded.

Before you know it, you find yourself at a speakeasy, a glass of chilled whiskey appears before you. You followed the trail of the arm, a long white sleeve covering the muscles you didn’t know were toned.

Has he always been this well-built?

“Is whiskey not to your liking, dear?” Alastor’s voice cut you off from your nonsensical thoughts.

Your gaze never took off from the glass.

I prefer beverages with a lighter touch than whiskey.

You mentally chastised yourself.

You heard a light chuckle, the wood creaking once he took the seat next to yours. The glass clinked as the small cubes danced along the waves.

“Hm, so my guess was right you prefer light alcohol over heavy ones.” The radio host remarked.

Your eyes widened, hands clamping over to your delicate lips. Did you just say that out loud?

“What’s wrong with wanting light alcohol?” The edge in your voice stung the other. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at your remark in amusement.

“I never said it’s wrong to like light drinks,” Alastor swirled his glass before taking a small sip.

Your glass was still untouched, although curiosity was gnawing away at you.

“Why don’t you take a sip? It won’t hurt,” He offered.

Glancing at the burning amber liquid reminded you of the fate that awaited anyone who would be careless enough to get their drink mixed up. The cold droplets made you shiver slightly as they drifted along the sides of the glass.

You pushed the glass to him, “You can have it. I don’t want to get a headache when I still have to work on a new script tomorrow.”

Alastor gazed at your liquor. The jazz music of the bar was a nice touch after a tiring day, yet his visage that reflected beneath the soft glow of the speakeasy said otherwise.

“You’ll be working with Clyde?” There was a sharp tone in his voice.

When did he start caring about what you do?

Alastor looked past you, his eyes narrowed dangerously. That person whom you had previously mistaken for just another co-worker seemed more sinister, ready to pounce on any of your weaknesses. Was it because you rejected his invitation earlier?

“Yes,” you nodded meekly, shifting against your seat as you avoided making contact with his eyes. “The producer told me they want a new broadcast for our station. Like a theatrical drama rather than the weekly hearsay from our listeners,” you explained.

A loud crashing sound resounded within the small bar and you flinched, instinctively recoiling at the piercing noise and you gasped upon noticing a blood trailing from Alastor’s hand.

His drink which was half-empty was now dripping on the counter mixing with the blood that seeped through his hand.

“Alastor! For goodness sake, I just bought that!” A shrill voice shouted from the other side of the counter. A short woman in a flapper dress clicked her tongue and ordered the barkeeper to clean the mess.

“Pardon me for the unpleasant commotion. I didn’t mean to shatter the glass.” Alastor opened his palm and it felt like someone had suddenly slammed a brick wall right across your face.

The sight was sickeningly frightening.

You rummaged through your purse and took out your handkerchief, carefully removing the small glasses pricking into his skin.

He observed your careful ministrations with keen interest, a slight thrill shooting through him as your fingers grazed his. It was like experiencing a treat, each touch sending a wave of unfamiliar sensations coursing through him. Sweet yet sour.

The corner of his lips tugged, almost reaching his eyes. Your pale face, trembling hands, tightened jaw, stumbling words of assurance as you asked for medical assistance— he watched your face intently to catch every subtlety of your expression. He wants to devour every single bit, drink it, absorb it, consume it, nibble on it…

You cleaned up the last bits of blood oozing from his left palm, and he clasped your hand in his unblemished one, holding it firmly as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

A broad grin spread across his face, reminiscent of the Cheshire cat's, and you couldn't shake the feeling that behind his dark eyes lurked a hint of mischief. It was a smile that seemed to dance between sweetness and something more sinister, leaving you both intrigued and slightly unnerved.

His lips that brushed against your skin provoked a shiver running down your spine, a cold realization settling in your bones. It lurked a darkness that sent a chill through your soul, leaving you with a sinking feeling.

—

After the small night of drinking, you promised to call Alastor later. You thanked him and hurried back home.

On the way, your thoughts are continuously turning into worry and fears. You asked yourself: why do you feel so uncomfortable around him? What makes you feel like you’re in danger?

Were you overthinking this? Maybe. But you couldn't shake off the uneasiness inside you.

Did he plan to hurt you? No, no way. It would be impossible since he was an impeccable gentleman.

This fear of the unknown and dread that gnawed at you will be the root of your sleepless night.

[bunbun-mochi]

Safeguarding

High school Caleb x MC, no in a relationship, third POV

Trigger Warning: bullying, so there will be phrases that could be triggering, such as comments of one's look, taking of one's life, etc, and violence. Do not read this if any of those could trigger you.

Word count: 2331, no proofreading

Preview: Old days - MC was being bullied when she was in freshman. Once junior Caleb heard this, he decided to teach those bullies a lesson. *Cue overprotective Caleb*

Note: Guess what I'm supposed to be doing? That's right! Studying! And guess what I'm doing instead? Simping for Caleb and Sylus Procrastinating! Whoo! Anyway, enjoy high school Caleb and MC. I love their cute interactions during their days in high school and college. It's so cute. OMG.

Tagging: @madam8, @gavin3469

MC was excited to start high school because, for two years, she and Caleb had been going to two different schools. When she and Caleb were in middle school, Caleb would always sit with her during lunch, tutor her with classes she was struggling with, and finally, he would always wait for her outside during the last period of class so they could walk home together.

Two years ago, Caleb started high school and things haven't been the same. If she and her friends had an argument, she would sit all by herself during lunch. After school, she ends up walking all by herself to the high school to watch Caleb's practice. However, some things didn't change: Caleb continued to tutor her except it was at home and they would still walk home together, except it was after his practice. Being the most amazing friend she is, she would attend all of Caleb's basketball games.

Once she start high school, she can finally spend more time with Caleb as they did in middle school. That's why MC was excited to go to high school. At least, was.

During middle school, she knows pretty much everyone in the school, since it's located in their town. Everyone knows who she and Caleb are. No one dared to anger Caleb because he once harshly disciplined a kid who tried to make fun of MC. So MC never really experienced bullying from other students.

The high school, however, is located further away, near a city, where other towns would go to the same high school. There are all sorts of people going to the same high school and that includes bullies.

During her first day of high school, Caleb drove them both to the high school. It's her first day being a freshman while it's junior for Caleb. They waved goodbye and started their separate classes.

Except, her first "class" started when a bunch of girls shoved her head in the toilet while laughing and giggling. Many of them commented on how she dressed, even though they were wearing the same uniform. Others commented on her looks.

When lunchtime rolled around, MC felt her excitement bubbling from her chest. She excitedly shoved her books into her bag and started to walk out of class when the same mean girls blocked her path.

"Going somewhere in a hurry?" The "leader" of the girls asked.

"Yes, please step aside," MC answered, trying to walk around them. But every time she did that, they would continue to block her path.

Then another girl walked into the class, all excited. "Omg, omg," She ran toward the mean girls. "You know that hot junior?"

The girls squealed excitedly, "Omg, omg, Caleb?"

"Yes! He's outside this class! He looked like he was waiting for someone!" The girls looked at the "leader" of their group.

The leader quickly adjusted her hair and clothing, "Wait for me for good news, girls!" And with that, she left the classroom.

MC hangs her head while she listens to the conversation outside the classroom.

"Hey!" MC could hear the fake high voice from the leader.

"Hey, pip-" Caleb paused. "Uh-"

"I heard a lot about you, Caleb."

"Uh, great. Where is MC? I'm pretty sure she has this class before lunch."

"She's not here. Want to have lunch with me, instead?"

"If she's not here, where is she?"

"Not sure, but do you want to have-" MC could hear the footsteps shuffling outside the classroom. Then she heard Caleb's voice, loud and clear.

"Pip-squeak!" MC looked up and saw Caleb waving from the doorway, showing his bright smile. "We finally are having lunch together!"

MC could only strain a smile. She was already having the worst day possible but she didn't want to ruin Caleb's day. However, Caleb already could tell she was forcing a smile.

"Did you make new friends? How's high school? How are the classes?" Being Caleb, he already started to throw questions at her. Then he leaned down and patted her head, "What's wrong?" His voice was gentle, so gentle it nearly made MC to break down and tell him what's wrong.

Before MC could answer, the girls quickly interjected, "She got into trouble in class."

"Yea, she couldn't understand simple math."

MC quickly shook her head, "It's not-"

Caleb, however, kept his smile. "Perfect, this is just like middle school. Here, let me help you with math while we eat lunch." He grabbed onto her hand and led her out of the classroom.

Suddenly, one of the girls yelled, "Don't touch her! She has cooties!"

Caleb looked back with a very confused look, "Those things don't exist. I thought you all being in high school already knew that, no?"

The leader once again tries her luck, "You shouldn't go out with her. She drinks from the toilet water."

Caleb looked at the leader then back to MC, "Are you sure these are your new friends? I would suggest to you to ditch them. They don't sound very nice."

The comment immedietly infuriated the girls, "At least we are prettier than this pig."

MC could see Caleb fuming from the comment so she held onto his arm, "Caleb, don't." Knowing full well what he would do.

Caleb took a deep breath as if to calm himself before smiling his signature bright smile. "If I say those girls look like pigs, I would be insulting the pigs. But alright, let's go." He took your hand and led you toward the cafeteria, completely ignoring the girls.

As cliche as it sounds, lunch is truly the best "class subject". MC enjoyed her time with Caleb. It was like they were back in middle school. Talking and laughing, even the silence wasn't awkward.

However, MC's happiness didn't last long. Right after lunch, those mean girls invited their own friends and brothers to join in the bullying. They went as far as throwing her books out the window, scribbling on her notebook, pushing her around, and slamming her on the lockers all the while speaking mean things to her.

"Your looks don't deserve Caleb's attention."

"I'm sure Caleb just took pity on you."

"You're ugly, might as well just end yourself."

MC lay on the floor sobbing while her body was littered with cuts and bruises. "Please leave me alone."

"Aww," One of the boys mocked, "Please leave me alone."

"So pathetic."

Suddenly, something flew across the hallway, striking one of the boys down. MC looked at the object to see a book about plane models lying on the floor.

"I was wondering what would've caused her to be so upset." MC sucked in her breath, immediately knowing who that voice belonged to.

The mean girls immedietly changed their tone and sounded more shy compared to when they were bullying her. "Caleb!"

"Caleb, I didn't know you're here!"

"We're just here to teach her a lesson for dirtying your clothes."

"Yea, that's right. She's very dirty. She drank toilet water-"

"Fuck off." MC widens her eyes. This was the first time she had ever heard Caleb swear. She looked up to see Caleb walking toward her. He took off his sweatshirt and covered her. "Stay here." His tone was much more gentler than when he was talking to her bullies.

One second he was covering MC with his sweatshirt, the next, he punched a boy so hard he was knocked out immediately from contact. The other boys and girls were staring in shock. This boy that Caleb had just knocked out was a senior who was slightly taller than Caleb.

"If you all try to hurt her again," The bullies looked up at Caleb as he tried to contain his anger. "And I'll make sure your parents won't even recognize you once I'm done with you."

The bullies stood there in shock as Caleb carried you to the nurse's office.

"Next time, pip-squeak, you should tell me immediately if anyone is hurting you."

MC leaned into his embrace, "I didn't want to bother you."

"Nothing you do bothers me."

MC sniffled, "Caleb?" Tears already spilling down her cheeks.

"Don't cry while I'm carrying you. I won't be able to wipe your tears."

"Am I ugly?" MC sobbed. "Am I dragging you down?"

"Nonsense, you're always pretty. If we want to talk about who's dragging who down, it's clearly me who's dragging you down."

"Are you saying that to make me feel better? Do you take pity on me?"

Caleb softly chuckled, "Pip-squeak. I've known you since we were kids. Have I ever took pity on you? Pretty sure I was the one who pushed you into the pool."

"I still haven't forgiven you."

"Yea, yea, I know."

As soon as Caleb dropped you off at the nurse's office, an announcement called in, "Caleb, 3rd year, principle's office immediately."

MC grabbed on Caleb's sleeve, "Caleb?" Her eyes watered as tears continued to spill. "Are you in trouble?"

Caleb chuckled and wiped her tears, "Don't worry about me, pip-squeak. I'll be back before you know it."

MC nodded before hesitantly letting go of his sleeves. She lay on the bed while the nurse put band-aid and ice packs on her wounds.

Once Caleb arrived at the office, he was doing some breathing exercises before going to the principal's office. Not because he's nervous, but because he's trying to calm himself down or else he'll end up hurting everyone in the office. He knocked twice before opening the door.

Inside the room sat the principal behind his desk and the senior bully with his parents. The mother was coaxing and soothed this boy as if he were a toddler while the father just sat there with his arms crossed as if he didn't want to be here. Caleb wanted to roll his eyes. No wonder this senior is a bully: his parents look just as bad as he does.

"Caleb," the principal called out. "I'm curious and tell me the truth. Did you actually used violence against a student today?"

The principal asked this because Caleb was one of the best student this school had. He was asked several times to skip grades but he refused several times.

Caleb huffed, "Yes, I did.."

"Good, I thought you actually did- wait, what did you just say?" The principal was dumbstruck because he wasn't expecting such a great student to resort to violence.

"Caleb, let me make myself clear: It is against school policy to use violence, especially to another student."

"Wasn't he the one who used violence against a student first?" Caleb snapped. "I'm sure in your policy, it said bullying is not tolerated."

Once again, the principal was dumbstruck. He was opening his mouth and closing it, unable to argue against Caleb.

"Look at this child!" The mother screeched, "He had no remorse for hurting my baby!"

"Ma'am," The principal quickly tries to calm her down.

Caleb turned toward the mother. She was patting his son's head. He could see the name tag on the left side of her breast. "Ms." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Tuskan. Your son bullied a friend of mine. It's your son who had no remorse for hurting someone else's child."

"You!" The mother shrieked. She immedietly stood up and stomp her way toward Caleb, pointing her finger at him, but her height was nowhere close to Caleb's. "You're a monster!"

Caleb glared down at her, "I didn't know the company you work for would hire you. Guess they hire anyone nowadays."

"Excuse me? You better be careful what you say. I will get you suspended."

"Is this a threat?"

"Damn right, it is. You better fucking sleep with an eye open, you bastard!"

"Thank you for clarifying," Caleb said sarcastically. "First off, under this school's policy, swear words are prohibited. You had violated that rule."

"You!"

"Second, I have this in a recording. I will be sending this recording to your boss."

The mother's face paled, and she turned toward her husband, asking for support. "Why aren't you backing me up?"

The husband looked annoyed, "What am I supposed to do? Our son just bullied someone and this kid taught him a lesson. Maybe that'll stop him from being an asshole."

The mother whipped her head back to Caleb and gave him the nastiest look. But Caleb just smirked, "Ma'am, here's some advice for you and your son. I advise you to teach your son how to be a decent human being and I advise your son to stop bullying, especially toward my friend. Because the next time I see him near her, he won't come back unscathed." Then Caleb looked at the principal, "I expect you and this school to do a better job upholding the policies. The next time I hear any bullying, I will report this school. Do I make myself clear?"

The principal quickly nodded. Caleb smiled, "Good, think we are done here."

"Wait," the mother stopped him. Caleb slightly winced at her annoying voice. "I need that recording."

Caleb scoffed, "Heh, no. I expect you to do what I asked or else I will be sending this to your boss." He looked over to the father. "and yours too." Sending the last warning, he showed himself out of the principal's office. As he closed the door, the mother and father were having a screaming match in the office.

"Look at what you've done! If I lose this job, I'm divorcing you!"

"What kind of father are you? Why can't you support me and your son?"

Caleb smiled to himself before returning back to MC's side.

Ever since that incident, no one dared to bully MC ever again. Because wherever she is, Caleb is right there behind her. Anyone who dared to hurt her would either return to school with a cast on or never return back to school. This infamous story was even used in the school's anti-bully projects, even after those two had long graduated from high school.

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