#suddenly unable to read or suddenly unable to fly

[womenlovee]

The Void

pairing: ava starr x fem!reader

summary: ava doesn’t know what to expect when she walks into the void, but it definitely wasnt to be reminded of something precious she lost request

warnings: minor thunderbolts spoilers! angst BUT with a happy ending, and i think that’s it?

word count: 2.4k

author’s note: bold italics are flashbacks! otherwise nothing from me. happy reading!

“I’m going after her.” Ava says, leaving no room for argument as she walks away, only to be stopped by Bucky’s cold metal hand on her shoulder.

“And then what?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, his frown tight with stress.

“If she did that, she did it for a reason.”

“What if she’s dead?”

“And what if she isn’t?”

Bucky knew Ava was going to follow through whether he agreed with her or not, so with a clenched jaw, he gave a soft nod and turned his attention back toward Walker and Alexei.

Instead of running from the black shadows like they once had, they stepped forward, embracing the darkness that overtook them. Ava didn’t know what to expect, but she wasn’t just going to give up on Yelena or Bob.

It began with her childhood.

She wasn’t sure where she was until she heard her mother’s desperate shouts to run, and then she saw the younger version of herself sprinting back toward the room where her father was. Ava tried to intercept her younger self, by reaching out, but her body phased through her and metal bars came flying, caging her to the other side.

She was forced to relive the moment her life flipped upside down.

She had to watch her parents die all over again. She had to feel the moment she started dying herself—the moment the pain began to consume her and betray her body.

The memory played over and over like a cruel joke.

Once the metal bars finally released her, she found a gap in the walls and ran through it, only to stumble into another memory. One of herself, hooked up to machines, crying in agony.

She passed through two more rooms before breaking into one that felt familiar… comforting.

And that’s when she saw you.

You stood in the home you once shared, fiddling with a ring on your finger, your lip trembling, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. She didn’t remember seeing this. Shehad never seen you this broken.

You jump when the front door opens suddenly, revealing your fiancée stepping inside and fidgeting awkwardly at the threshold. Grabbing a tissue from the counter, you quickly wipe your face, erasing any trace of your tears before she can see.

“Hey, darling.” Ava mumbles, walking past you without a glance.

Usually, you’d let it slide. At least you got a pet name. But now, sitting in your dress with mascara smudged and your eyes red, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“You forgot.” You whisper, just loud enough for her to hear.

Ava freezes mid-stride before slowly turning her head to look at you. There you stand in that plunging black dress—the one she loves so much, the one that hugs your figure and shows just enough to make her stare every time.

She closes her eyes, exhaling in disappointment. That nagging feeling she’d had all day. It wasn’t paranoia. It was something real.

“Fuck. I completely forgot.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time.” You say, gripping the edge of the counter.

Ava scoffs, tilting her head back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ava, do you even know why we had a date planned tonight?” You ask, voice quiet but pleading. Hoping—just hoping—she’ll remember.

“I— Date night?”

You close your eyes slowly as a single tear trails down your cheek. Maybe you’ve been holding onto false hope. Maybe you thought this time she’d get it right. That you would finally come first.

After a beat of silence, you sniffle softly and take a deep breath.

“It’s our three-year anniversary.”

Ava watches intently, unable to tear her eyes away. She sees how clueless, how cold, her past self looks, and how heartbreak clings to you like a second skin.

And you, god, you looked like you were crumbling.

She slowly walks forward in the memory, standing beside you at the counter. That’s when she notices it—the way you’re quietly fiddling with your ring beneath the marble surface. If her past self had really been paying attention, she might’ve seen what was coming.

“I said I’m sorry.” Ava huffs, rubbing her forehead with a gloved hand.

You let out a hollow laugh, eyes still downcast. “No, you didn’t. You never do.”

Ava’s jaw tightens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you barely act like I exist, let alone look in my direction. I’m just someone who keeps the other side of your bed warm.”

“I have a job.” Ava snaps. “An important duty outside of this relationship. I’m sorry if my focus isn’t always on you.”

Her tone is sharp. Dismissive. Defensive.

Ava flinches, her lip trembling. “Don’t say that to her.” She whispers to the memory of herself, voice soft, aching.

She shakes her head. She can’t believe how cruel she’d been to you. Beautiful, patient, loving you.

You warned her the day Valentina walked into your apartment, offering work that felt wrong. You told her it didn’t feel right. But she brushed off your concern, too eager to throw herself back into the field.

Now, with clarity only hindsight gives, Ava sees the truth.

Valentina never cared about her. She only wanted Ghost to do her dirty work, and when the job was done, she’d make Ava disappear.

And while Ava was off becoming someone else’s weapon, she left you behind. Left you thinking you didn’t matter. That you weren’t worth fighting for.

“It’s never been about me.” You say, quietly but firmly, and Ava stiffens.

That’s when you slide the engagement ring off your finger. Your hand stays curled around it for a moment—hidden, private, sacred.

“I’m so tired.” You murmur, voice cracking.

“Then go to bed, for all I care.” Ava snaps, throwing her hands in the air, turning away.

“I mean I’m tired of us.”

A metallic clink echoes as you set the ring on the counter.

Ava turns back, startled by the sound, eyes dropping to the small band sitting in the empty space between you.

“Wha—?”

You don’t bother hiding the way your face twists with heartbreak. With a shaky inhale, you finally speak what’s been eating at you for weeks.

“I’m leaving.”

It was so hard for Ava to walk away from this memory. Some part of her thought she deserved to have to rewatch what she broke until the void was satisfied, but she wasn’t here to pity herself. Not now anyways.

Once they had saved Bob and defeated the void, they suddenly reappeared in the catastrophic ruins of the city, glancing around as everyone who had been panicking moments earlier came back into focus.

As they scanned their surroundings, they saw Valentina yelling at someone on the phone, quickly drawing everyone’s attention toward the woman who had orchestrated so much chaos. None of them hesitated. They started walking toward her, united in their silent resolve—ready to face the person who had done so much, and tried to do worse.

“Hey, guys. We can talk about this.” Valentina stammered, shrinking back as she stumbled through the tarp behind her.

They followed.

That’s when they were all blinded by flashes erupting around them like lightning. Dozens of cameras. Microphones extended. Valentina’s voice echoing.

Ava steps forward, the memory still dissolving behind her like smoke. The sound of your voice—tired, heartbroken—still echoes in her mind.

But that wasn’t the end, was it?

The void may have forced her to relive the pain, but now, back in reality, Ava feels something else clawing its way up through the numbness.

Regret.

Her boots hit solid ground. The sky above is cracked with streaks of orange and violet, a strange but beautiful afterglow from the chaos of their battle. Around her, the remaining Thunderbolts gather, bruised and dirty but standing tall, hailed as heroes. The world doesn’t know how close it came to breaking, and maybe that’s for the best.

Crowds line the edges of the field, held back by barriers and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. People cheering. Applauding. Cameras flashing.

And then she sees you.

You’re standing near the front, just off to the side, your expression unreadable. The wind catches your coat, your hands folded tightly in front of you. You’re not clapping. You’re not smiling.

You’re just watching.

Time slows.

Ava’s heart slams against her ribs. The noise around her fades to a low hum. It’s not the first time she’s seen your face in the crowd. She’s imagined it a hundred times, hallucinated it more than once.

But this time…you’re real.

She starts walking. Then jogging.

Walker calls her name, but she doesn’t stop.

You don’t move as she gets closer. Don’t flinch. You just wait—arms crossed, guarded, but curious. Maybe unsure if she’s here to say something or just make peace with a ghost.

Ava stops a few feet in front of you, breathing heavily, not from the run, but from everything pressing on her chest.

She doesn’t know how to start.

So she just says the one thing that’s been burning in her throat since she left that memory room.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink. Slowly. Not cold, not cruel. Just careful.

“I didn’t see it then.” She continues, her voice soft and rough. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I kept pushing forward, if I just survived long enough, it would all be worth it. That I could make it back to you and explain everything and somehow that would be enough.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t look away either.

“I broke us.” Ava admits. “Not Valentina. Not the job. Me. I chose something else when I should’ve chosen you. Every time.”

There’s a pause. Long and heavy.

And then, finally, you speak.

“You said that last time too.”

Ava swallows hard. “Yeah. But this time…I mean it. And I know that might not be enough. I know I can’t ask for a second chance.”

You look down, your fingers fidgeting. She notices. No ring. No necklace. Nothing tying you to her anymore except this moment.

“I don’t want to undo the past.” Ava whispers, stepping just a little closer. “I just want to say that I see it now. Everything you carried. Everything I ignored. And if I don’t tell you that, I’ll never be able to move forward.”

Your jaw flexes slightly, but your eyes soften just a little.

“Why now?” You ask. “Why after all this time?”

Ava exhales slowly. “Because I had to watch you walk away again. And this time…I finally understood why you did.”

Silence again.

Then your voice, barely above the wind. “That was never easy for me.”

“I know.” She nods her head. “It shouldn’t have come to that.”

“I saw everything again too, you know?” You admit, looking down at her shoes as you sway in the spot.

“What? How?”

“The black mist stuff took over the whole city. You can’t exactly run away from it.” You huff out a laugh, allowing Ava to finally let out a smile.

You both stand in front of one another, taking in each other’s appearances like you thought the other was gone forever. Small smiles etch on both of your lips as you both finally take in the moment.

“I am truly sorry.” Ava whispers again.

You reach out, gripping her gloved hand. “I know.”

“Do you think after all of this we can try again?”

Her voice is almost too timid, afraid she’s taken her chances too far but little does she know you were thinking the same thing. You give her hand a soft squeeze, directing her momentarily attention from the ground back to you.

“We can try again, but it’s going to take time. We can’t just pick up where we left off again.” You say softly but unwavering.

“That’ll be perfect, darling.” Ava rasps, grinning at the soft shiver that spikes up your body from the long awaited pet name.

Biting your lip, you look around at all of the press and cameras before looking at her with a shy smile. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a little kiss.”

The taller girl’s eyes widen slightly, not expecting to already be welcome this far. She quickly nods her head while her hands find your waist, pulling you in lightly.

Your hands wrap around her neck, pulling her down and closing the tiny gap she left in case you wanted to pull back. Both of you expect just a small timed kiss, but once you get the feeling of each other’s lips again, neither of you can let go.

Not caring about the cameras surrounding you two or the wolf whistles from Alexei, you both deepen the kiss, grasping for something you thought you lost long ago and craved ever since.

Ava doesn’t even flinch at the sound of Alexei’s whistle echoing through the chaos.

In another life, she might’ve tensed. Pulled back. Kept her guard up. But not this time.

This time, she lets herself feel.

When you finally break the kiss, the crowd around you has gone nearly silent. Not out of disapproval, but awe—the kind reserved for stories that feel earned. Ones that took blood, pain, and impossible choices to reach their ending…or maybe, their new beginning.

Your forehead rests against hers, your breaths syncing in a quiet rhythm only the two of you can hear.

“I missed you.” You whisper, voice soft like a prayer. “Even when I didn’t like you…I still missed you.”

Ava exhales shakily, closing her eyes. “I never stopped thinking about you. Not once. Even when I tried to forget.”

You both stand there, surrounded by noise, by the world watching, but in this moment, it’s just the two of you. Like the rest of it doesn’t matter.

Finally, Ava steps back just enough to really look at you. “So where do we go from here?”

You smile softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “One step at a time.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” She nods, almost to herself.

And as the Thunderbolts begin to regroup behind her. Valentina restrained, agents swarming the area, press still flashing cameras—you and Ava remain exactly where you are.

In the middle of chaos, you found each other again.

And for the first time in a long time, Ava feels like maybe, just maybe, she’s finally come home.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Yes on the pregnancy scare fic! but also maybe Lance becoming a father for the first time and howd hed be at the hospital and what not! Best wishes <3

Oh shit it’s real||Lance stroll x fem!reader

Summary — what’s starts out as a late period and a pregnancy scare turns into the real thing and lance is there every step of the way

Warnings Mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, swearing, strong emotional themes and mentions of a period.

Word count 2.k

A/n please 🙏 my inbox is open for Lance stroll fic!!!!!!!

It starts with a whisper of doubt in the back of your mind.

A late period, barely five days.

You tell yourself it’s nothing.

It’s been a hectic month of flying from one Grand Prix to another, irregular meals, barely enough sleep. You’ve missed cycles before. But still… you know your body. And this time, something feels different.

You stand in the drugstore, sunglasses on, hoodie pulled low, debating between two brands of pregnancy tests like they’ll change your fate. You grab the one with the digital screen. Easier to read. Harder to lie to yourself about.

Lance is still asleep when you get home. His race suit is crumpled on the floor, and he’s sprawled across the bed like a starfish, one arm hugging your pillow. His hair’s a mess. There’s a faint crease across his cheek where he must’ve slept too hard on his hand. He’s peaceful in a way you haven’t been in days.

You take the test in silence, heart jackhammering behind your ribs, and wait on the bathroom floor with your knees pulled to your chest. The white stick is perched on the edge of the sink like a bomb waiting to go off.

You hear movement from the bedroom. Footsteps. A soft yawn.

The door creaks open.

Lance appears in the doorway, shirtless, rubbing at one eye. He frowns when he sees you on the floor.

“Hey… what’s going on?” His voice is raspy with sleep. Then his eyes flick to the counter. His whole face stills. “Is that what I think it is?”

You nod, unable to speak.

He crouches down beside you, all sleepiness gone. He looks at the box. Then at the test. Then at you.

“You think you’re pregnant?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “I might be. My period’s late. And I’ve been feeling… weird.”

You expect panic. Expect him to back away. But he doesn’t.

Lance reaches for your hand instead. His thumb moves over your knuckles slowly. You can feel the calluses from his gloves.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll look at it together.”

You check the timer on your phone. Two minutes left.

He sits on the floor beside you in silence, eyes fixed on the test like it’s a lap time that’ll make or break the season.

When the timer goes off, you don’t move.

“Do you want me to…?” he asks, voice soft.

You nod. You can’t bring yourself to look.

Lance leans forward, squints.

And then—“It’s negative.”

You exhale so fast you almost collapse.

He hands you the stick. “Negative,” he repeats gently. “You’re okay.”

But your heart twists unexpectedly. You’re okay, yes—but suddenly, you aren’t sure how you feel about that.

Lance leans against the bathroom wall, letting out a slow breath. “Shit.”

You glance over. “Shit?”

“I don’t know,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought I’d be relieved. But for a second there, it didn’t feel like the end of the world.”

You blink. “Really?”

He turns to you, eyes soft. “You didn’t see it? I mean how I was alreadpicturing it? You. Me. Some tiny little you with my eyebrows.”

You laugh wetly, covering your mouth. “God, what a cursed combination.”

He smiles, a little sheepishly. “I think I would’ve been okay. With it. With you.”

You felt tears gathering in your eyes at his statement “yeah I think so too” you say voice trembling.

He pulls you into him again, arms wrapping around your shoulders like they were always meant to be there. His chin rests on the crown of your head, and for a while, he just breathes with you. Like if he holds on long enough, the ache might ease, the weight might lift.

“I was scared,” you whisper into his chest. “I didn’t even know how to tell you when I thought it might be real. I just… I didn’t want to see your face and wish I hadn’t.”

His hand moves slowly up and down your back, soothing. “You never have to be scared of me, baby,” he murmurs. “Not with stuff like this. You could’ve told me anything.”

You nod against him, blinking hard as the tears come again — quieter this time, tired. His voice lowers, gentle and close to your ear.

���I would’ve loved them,” he says softly. “Even if it wasn’t planned, even if we were a mess. I think we would’ve figured it out. Because it would’ve been ours. You and me.”

You close your eyes, let that truth settle in your bones like warmth returning to cold skin.

“I wanted to hate the idea of it,” you admit. “But I didn’t. I really didn’t.”

He smiles, slow and aching. “You’d be the most amazing mom,” he says. “And I’d be… learning. Probably Googling everything. Asking Seb too many questions.”

That earns him a real laugh, small but real. “Oh god. Poor Seb.”

Lance brushes a hand through your hair, then tilts your chin gently so he can see your face in the low glow of the room. “C’mon,” he says, voice tender. “Let’s go back to bed. You need to rest.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“I’ll hold you,” he offers, guiding you with him. “That’s the deal, right? You cry into my shirt and then I steal all the blankets.”

You smile, eyes glassy. “You always steal the blankets.”

“Exactly. Something’s gotta feel normal.”

He tugs you gently toward the bed, one arm still wrapped around your waist, and when you lie down, he tucks you in like something precious. You curl into him without thinking, and when his fingers find yours under the covers, you let them stay.

That night, he holds you tighter than usual. And in the dark, half-asleep, you hear him whisper to your stomach:

“If you ever do show up, kid… I’ll be ready.”

Six Months Later

You throw up twice before breakfast and try to convince yourself it’s just food poisoning.

But the smell of coffee makes your stomach churn. Your boobs ache. You’re dizzy and off-balance, like your body’s not yours anymore.

Lance is watching you with a suspicious look as you shuffle into the kitchen.

“You okay?”

“Totally fine,” you say, reaching for toast and missing it completely. You catch yourself on the counter.

He sets his phone down. “Babe.”

“What?”

“You’re pregnant.”

You gape at him. “No, I’m not. You don’t know that.”

He shrugs casually. “Your boobs look different.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said.”

You huff. But three hours later, you’re standing in the bathroom again, watching a new test blink to life. Lance stands behind you this time, hands on your hips, his chin resting on your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, just breathes softly.

PREGNANT.

It’s not a whisper this time. It’s a shout. A scream saying “hey, this is real!” Your eyes sting, chest aching with something bigger than fear — something bright and trembling and alive.

Lance is quiet for a long time.

Then—“Holy shit. That’s real.”

You nod, lips trembling. “It’s real.”

He stares at you, eyes wide, like you just dropped the whole universe in his lap. His fingers reach for yours, careful, reverent. And then he takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom, moving like he’s in a dream, like if he blinks too fast it might all disappear.

He sits with you on the edge of the bed, like you’re made of glass and he’s terrified to break you, but desperate to hold on.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” he says in disbelief, almost to himself. “You’re gonna be a mom.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears spilling freely now. “We’re doing this.”

He kisses you like you were made of glass His hands cupping your face, your cheeks damp with tears, and then you’re both laughing into the kiss, gasping for air.

And then it hits you all over again, sharp and golden, and you squeal — an honest-to-god squeal — bubbling up from your chest like it can’t be contained.

“Oh my god,” you shout, pulling back and pressing your hands to your mouth, eyes wide with joy. “Lance, we’re having a baby! A baby!”

He laughs, completely floored, eyes crinkling with pure, stunned happiness. “I know! Holy shit! We are!”

You grab both his hands and bounce a little where you sit. “I’m gonna be someone’s mom and you’re gonna be the hot, sleep-deprived, overly cautious dad who builds IKEA furniture wrong on purpose just so I’ll help you.”

He grins so wide it looks like it hurts. “Okay, first of all, I build everything perfectly, thank you very much.”

“You installed that bookshelf upside down.”

He gasps. “Rude. Why are you attacking the father of your child like this?”

You both dissolve into laughter again, and then he’s pulling you into his chest, rocking slightly as he wraps his arms around your back.

“You’re my family now,” he murmurs into your hair. “You and them.”

You close your eyes, heart thudding.

“I think they’ve been yours since the start.”

The months slip by in a haze — not rushed, but surreal. Like the quiet between laps. Like the stillness in a pit stop, where everything changes in a breath.

And through it all, Lance is… everything.

He’s soft in ways you didn’t know he could be. Gentle, careful, like you’re something sacred. Every night, without fail, he lowers himself to your growing belly, resting his cheek there like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He whispers in slow, affectionate French — silly introductions, little stories, promises. He talks to the baby like they’re already best friends.

At races, he FaceTimes you like he’s homesick. Between practice runs, after qualifying, in bed with his hair still damp from the shower, eyes full of longing even when he’s smiling.

He sends you baby name lists at 2 a.m. Articles about sleep training. Memes about dad jokes.

“We can’t call it Sebastian if it’s a boy.”

“Why not?”

“Too much pressure. He’ll feel obligated to win four world championships and save bees.”

He starts reading fatherhood books on planes, folding page corners and underlining things like it’s his full-time job. He builds a color-coded spreadsheet to track your vitamins and appointments. Learning how to fold onesies like he’s training for a competition. He orders a tiny Aston Martin baby onesie online and when it arrives in the mail, still in its crinkled packaging, he stares at it for a long time.

“You okay?” you ask, hand slipping into his.

He nods, but his eyes are glossy, and his laugh wavers.

“It just… got real, you know?”

You kiss his shoulder, lean into him with your whole weight. “Yeah. I know.”

And then he’s holding the onesie to his chest like it’s already filled with a heartbeat.

Later that night when It’s 3 a.m. the first contraction hits.

You scream so loud it wakes him immediately. He’s half-dressed and out the door in less than five minutes, running red lights and muttering in rapid-fire French as you breathe through the pain beside him.

At the hospital, everything is loud and bright and wrong. You’re sweating and crying and Lance looks like he’s trying not to faint but also not leave your side.

You snap at him during transition. He takes it like a pro.

“I hate you,” you growl through gritted teeth.

He kisses your hand. “That’s fair. I still love you.”

When it’s time to push, he’s at your side, holding your hand so tight it goes numb. His voice is right in your ear:

“You’ve got this, baby. You’re so strong. You’re doing amazing.”

You hear a cry. Then two.

A rush of movement.

And suddenly—suddenly—Lance is holding the tiniest human you’ve ever seen.

“She looks like you,” he says, voice cracking. “She’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

They lay her on your chest and she curls there, warm and pink and real.

You both cry, and Lance kisses your forehead again and again, whispering.

“You did it. You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

You find him on the couch in the nursery at 3 a.m., rocking your daughter against his bare chest.

The Formula 1 race plays softly on his phone. He’s narrating gently in French, his voice low and soothing.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him fall in love.

“You look good like that,” you whisper.

He looks up, sleepy and soft.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles. “Guess I’m not just a driver anymore.”

You cross the room and curl up beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. Your daughter breathes between you, small and safe.

“You’re everything,” you say.

And when he looks at you, eyes full of wonder, you know you’ve already won the race.

[these-lovely-monsters]

The Vampire's Kiss

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!vampire x f!reader

Content: stalking, blood, blood drinking, fingering, biting, marking, bite marks, possessiveness, yandere

#1 Marking the territory and #27 Bloodthirst from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

You didn’t know it, but this morning while you were working at the quaint little coffee shop, there was a man sitting at one of the tables nearby. He was reading a newspaper while sipping on an espresso you made him. When you cut your hand on one of the sharp corners of the counter, a little bit of blood welled up in the wound.

The scent of it immediately caught his attention and the rest of the shop faded away as he zeroed in on the pulse beating steadily at your throat. It was an intoxicating aroma to him and he’d never smelled anything so decadent before. He was desperate for a taste. For the rest of the day, he was unable to think about anything else but you as he followed you around, lurking in the shadows. 

Now, late at night, as you walk home to your apartment building, you swear you keep hearing footsteps echoing behind you. But whenever you turn around to look, there’s nothing there except the empty sidewalk. Growing nervous, you begin to quicken your steps, just needing to get out of the darkness creeping in around you.

Just as you reach your apartment building, you shriek as you’re suddenly lifted off your feet and whisked into the alley beside it. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your back is pressed up against the wall. A cold, hard body pins you to the bricks. 

Looking up into your assailant’s face, cool gray eyes meet yours. He’s devastatingly beautiful with sharp angles and a pale complexion. For a moment, you can’t do anything but stare, mesmerized by him. He gives you a lopsided smirk and you catch sight of a fang peeking out. A vampire.

The notion should scare you but the hunger in his eyes causes your blood to heat in desire. You’ve read so many vampire romance books and now you desperately want to know what it would be like to have one feed from you. When he sees the lust fill your expression, his grin grows wider, revealing the other fang. You watch as his pupils dilate, a barely disguised monster lurking under the surface.

He inhales deeply and drawls, “Do you know how utterly delectable you smell?” Just the sound of that sinful timbre is enough to make you shudder in pleasure. “Will you let me have a taste?”

Not caring how dangerous it might be, a barely audible, “Yes,” slips from your lips on a soft whimper.

He doesn’t hesitate and claims your mouth in a bruising kiss, nipping and sucking at your lips. When you plunge your tongue into his mouth, he groans into yours and the sound travels right to your core.

As your tongue tangles with his, there's a sudden pinch on the tip. You pull back with a gasp, the taste of copper filling your mouth. When he grins at you, blood smeared along one of his fangs, you bite your lip at the erotic image. Tilting your head in invitation, you bare your neck to him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs before shifting your hair to the side and sinking his teeth into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You throw your head back against the wall as your hands fly up to grip his hair tightly.

You groan in ecstasy at the feeling of him sucking, drawing in deep mouthfuls of blood. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before and an aching, desperate need begins to build in your core. Your head swims with the intoxicating arousal as wetness pools between your legs and drips down your thighs.

He releases your shoulder and you almost cry out at the loss. But then he moves to the other side, biting you again. He continues to bite and suck all along your neck, ripping open the front of your blouse to pepper the swells of your breasts with even more. With each bite, he lets out long, needy groans as he grinds his hard cock against your stomach.

While his fangs are buried deep in your flesh, he reaches down and flips up your skirt, tearing your panties off with one hard yank. You gasp as you watch him stuff the stolen garment in his pocket. Before you can protest, he’s shoving two fingers deep inside your pussy and all thoughts fly from your head. As he pumps his fingers in and out of you, he swirls his thumb around your clit, causing your back to arch off the wall.

Between his fingers fucking into you and his mouth and fangs on your skin, it doesn’t take long for a toe-curling orgasm to crash into you. It feels like it goes on forever as he draws it out, not stopping until you’re squirming away from the over sensitization.

Chuckling, he releases you and withdraws his fingers from your pussy. When he pulls back, the streetlamp on the corner casts a yellow glow across his face. The crimson blood smeared across his lips almost sparkles in the light. Lifting his fingers, which are glistening with your arousal, he runs them along his lips, mixing the blood with your juices before licking them clean.

“So fucking delicious,” he growls. The words send a shiver down your spine and you’re instantly aroused again, the heady experience of his feeding still swirling around you. Needing more, you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a whimper and a moan, unable to form the words to ask.

As if understanding exactly what you need, he lifts you up into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he walks you to the front door of your building and sets you down on your feet. You reach into your purse to pull out your keys and wince, forgetting the cut from this morning.

He grabs your hand, flipping it palm up and undoes the bandages gently, almost reverently. Lowering his mouth to the wound, he softly laps at it with his tongue. You watch in awe as your skin tingles and begins to knit back together. Within seconds, the cut is completely gone, smooth unmarred skin now in its place.

You look up at him and run a finger along his bloody lips, whispering a soft, “Thank you,” at his surprisingly kind gesture.

When you turn to face the glass entrance, you gasp at the sight of yourself. Your hair is a mess, your blouse is hanging open at the front, and bite marks cover your neck and chest in a bloody patchwork.

Tracing the marks on your skin, you meet his gaze in the reflection of the door. “Why didn’t you heal these?”

“Because you are mine now, sweetheart, and I want everyone to know it. Now, won’t you let me in?”

Tip Jar :)

[bewitched-hours]

Okay, zo hello!! Could you maybe make a fic about [READER] being 1x1x1x1s zibling? Kinda like how he'z made out of hate, maybe they could be made out of pure love?

Zhedletsky iz like [READER]z father, and they like have a good (PLATONIC) relationzhip, teaching them how to ztun the killer, etc. But they can make things out of love (?), like maybe a sword or something, being a zurvivor n ztuff

Maybe 1x4 can meet them in the round az they ztun him, and might be confuzed on who they are

And when they're zad/having a intenze emotion maybe they can act out of line, kinda like pure love turning into pozzezzive or unhealthy love! :3

I'm not good at asking for a requezt, zo tell me if itz good or zomething, idk :D

(I've had thiz ztupid thought in my head, rotating around like a pizza in a microwave..)

This is an interesting request! I gotta admit I had a little trouble understanding at times but that's just my stupid brain taking things at face value the first time I read things /ᐠ｡‸｡ᐟ\ The z's in places of s' are kinda cute tho ngl-

The reader's pronouns shall be they/them!

You've never even thought about the possibility of having a sibling, much less your father having ever been able to hate.

You were a manifestation of Shedletsky's love, just like 1x was a manifestation of his hatred. But instead of a black and green body, yours was a mix of red and white.

He taught you to be a survivor, to not become like your unknown sibling.

You could even use your love to make a sword, wanting to make your father proud when you stunned killers. It was bliss in this nightmare of a realm and even the other survivors appreciated your help.

You even developed wings after a short time, much to everyone's surprise. Even Shedletsky hadn't seen that coming but he was proud nonetheless, even helping you figure out how to fly and float.

But since then you occasionally get the nickname 'Cupid' for your silly little wings.

But then the dreaded round came. The round that Shedletsky feared for your sake.

A round with both you and 1x1... Siblings meeting for the first time without realizing it.

Shed had hoped the round could go over quickly, that he wouldn't be confronted by the manifestation of his hatred and the manifestation of his love at the same time.

But he clearly underestimated your loyalty.

As 1x1 was about to strike him, you dropped from above and stunned her using your sword, barely touching the ground before hurrying to accompany your father towards safety.

The killer was severely confused on your existence but just as much as he was mad over being stopped.

And if you were honest, something about her felt familiar... You just decided to shrug it off for now and leave the questions for later.

But then you and Shedletsky ended up as the last two alive, leading to you acting maybe a little out of line as you began muttering to yourself.

"No one touches my papa..." You muttered under your breath as you kept an eye out while guarding Shed. He luckily didn't hear a word because you were clearly not acting like usual.

Why were you suddenly having the urge to take Shed somewhere where no one would find him? That wasn't what you'd want for your father... Right..?

You only got more aggressive when you saw your green and black counterpart approaching. You were practically already hissing as she stared you down, approaching eerily slow and not showing any sign of hostility in contrast to your own. It looked more like tolerance than indifference though.

Shedletsky tried to tell you to run but you wouldn't budge no matter how much he'd plead. Eventually, 1x1 was towering slightly over you and you found yourself unable to move aside from continuing to stare her down.

He was clearly curious and although Shed wanted to just make a run for it, he couldn't just leave you here and knew you would deserve answers.

"I see you've made another..." His voice was directed at your father, causing you to halt your stance entirely to give her a questioning look.

This only annoyed 1x1 further. "Let me guess, they were never made aware of my existence, were they?" He almost sounded like he was scoffing but you couldn't even look at Shed. You didn't want to see the possibility of him confirming that this was what you feared.

She eventually picked you up by your wings, causing you to flail around but accidentally dropping your sword.

"I suppose their size fits. Either they were made recently or you truly had nothing much to feed a being that is the opposite of hatred, right?"

"No one speaks about papa that way!" You finally spoke up, enraged over how 1x1 could talk about Shedletsky.

1x1 seemed a little unsettled by that. "I'm not even surprised it's so possessive of you... Probably self-love." She muttered, promptly killing you to have a private chat with your creator.

The other survivors were honestly a little startled to see your current state. You've never been seen with so much rage in your eyes and it felt a little intimidating even to them...

Let's hope Shed can come back soon and straighten things out...

I'm getting so many asks lately but I don't mind it at all, it just makes things better with me being able to write more! (And all at once too kek-)

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[sports-on-sundays]

Oh...! Maybe you can make a part 2 of the fic Mama's Boy when they're on date or make a new one with the same trope because this is so cute and I can't stop reading it! ����

mama's boy / Héctor Fort / Part 2

Summary: Héctor x best friend!reader - Héctor takes you on both of your first dates, his clear, awkward, huge crush on you funnily apparent. Link to Part 1!

Requested?: Yes! Thank you!

"...Héctor...?!" Lamine suddenly says louder, gently slapping Héctor's shoulder, snapping Héctor out of his deep thoughts. "Did you just hear any of what I just said?" the seventeen-year-old asks in slight exasperation.

"Uh... yeah, of course," Héctor replies, looking at the younger guy like a deer in headlights.

"Then what was it?"

Héctor sighs. "Alright. Maybe I didn't hear you. Sorry. What was it?"

Lamine shakes his head. "It doesn't really matter. Not really, in any case. But what's your problem lately, man?"

"What do you mean?" Héctor asks a bit too defensively and quickly.

"I don't know. It just seems like you're always zoned out and stuff. Is there anything going on?"

Héctor sighs, shaking his head, standing up to go. "No, no, it's nothing. Just got a lot on my mind. Anyway, I've got to go now. Bye, Lamine!" and he leaves before the boy can press him any more on the subject.

Because the truth is, he does have something on his mind. Something really big. And he hasn't been able to get it off his mind literally all week.

But it'd be awkward to tell Lamine the thing that's making him literally check out of conversations is all centered around a girl. And if Héctor knows Lamine enough, he also knows Lamine would never let him live that down.

Well, tonight is his date with you. Ever since he asked you out about five days ago now, at your house, in your room, all he can focus on are the nerves of that. You, the girl he's known for years, the girl that's always been so close yet so untouchable. He is taking you out on a date.

And you actually like him back.

Just the thought of that makes his chest tighten. How on earth is he going to survive a date with you, no matter how excited he is for it?

"You've been awfully quiet this car ride," Héctor's mama says in the car seat next to him.

Héctor sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess so..."

"Aren't you excited for your date?" his mama says kind of teasingly, giving him a little nudge.

"Of course! I guess I'm just..." he trails off.

"You're just a bit nervous, but that's something you'd never admit to anyone out loud, huh?"

Héctor just smiles awkwardly, shrugging, and lets his silence be the answer to that question. After a few seconds, he sighs, unbuckling his seat belt, and saying, "I just hope I don't screw it all up."

"Hey, trust me, Héc. Look here for a second," his mama says.

He looks up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. What?"

"You won't screw it up. I'm sure it'll go great. You've known that girl since you were both born. And I have, too, by the way. And if there's one thing I can tell, it's this: she likes you just as much as you like her. She's just less of an awkward idiot about it!" His mama laughs, giving him a little pat on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Héctor snaps back, unable to keep the smile from breaking out on his face at the tease from his mama.

She gives him a little pat, saying, "There's my boy's real smile. Now, go on, and have fun, Héc!"

He smiles and nods, getting out of the car, feeling a lot better than before.

Héctor replayed this scene in his head over and over, all week, perfecting it every time, until he was sure what he would do and say, in order to be perfectly smooth and charming, without being too corny, either.

The scene where you would walk up to him, and he'd take you inside the restaurant, and you'd sit down, and it would all go just the way he wants it to.

But all the sudden, as he sees you walking towards him, he feels his heart begin to pound in his chest, and the moment you reach him and say happily, "Hey, Héctor!" all other thoughts and plans of what he would say next fly right out of his head.

His mind goes blank, and instead of the smooth comment he thought he'd make right here, he just smiles stupidly and says, "Hi. I'm glad you came!"

You smile softly. "Well, I am, too. Let's go inside."

So the two of you walk in, and Héctor internally beats himself up at how much he's 'already messed up.' At least according to himself, that is.

So in an effort to fix his mistakes, as the two of you are escorted to your table, he suddenly gently slips his hand into yours and looks at you with a sweet little smile.

You smile back, blushing a bit, and squeeze his hand gently.

That's when he blurts, "You look really good today. I mean, like... I mean, you look beautiful... Uhm..." he clears his throat. "You look good every day, obviously, I mean. I just mean to say... you look especially pretty today."

You smile, feeling how awkward he's being. But regardless, you think it's cute. He's cute. And he's being sweet. So you say simply, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." You can tell he's tried to look his best for this. His clothes are perfectly ironed, his shoes clean, every hair on his head perfectly in place. You can't help but smile softly when you think about the effort he must've put into all that as you both sit down across from each other.

You both begin looking over the menu, and as you do this, you say with a little smile, after you catch him giving you little glances for the fourth time, "You really like me, don't you?"

He smiles a bit and says, "There's a lot to like about you." Finally! Something that was at least half-smooth! his brain screamed, like as if he'd just scored the winning goal. Which is actually quite funny, considering the situation itself.

You smile and say, putting a hand to your chest, "Why, thank you!"

And he grins back at you, his eyes softening in some sort of deep affection that further tells you just how down bad he is for you.

"So, what are you going to get?" Héctor asks, beginning the small talk of the night, which, honestly, you're thankful for.

As the date goes on, though, you both settle into being more and more comfortable with each other, until it seems at the end you've both forgotten this was supposed to be any different than any other time you've just hung out and had fun with each other.

Until the time for you both to get going is nearing, and suddenly Héctor, apparently getting a newfound spark of confidence, reaches across the table to take your hand in his own. You look up, watching him inhale slowly, before meeting your eyes with his own and saying in a gentler, more serious tone than the teasing one that had lingered most of the evening between the two of you: "So... have you liked it?"

You smile as each of your hands seem to naturally entwine in each other's. "Liked what?"

"Tonight. Our date."

You beam. "Oh, Héctor, I've just loved it."

"Really?" he asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Don't you know that any time I get to spend with you is amazing? Come on now, Héctor," you gently tease.

He beams back at you, squeezing your hand.

That's when you finally feel comfortable enough to ask the unabating question that's been on your mind all week: "Héctor... how long have you liked me...? You know, in this way."

He seems hesitant. Maybe slightly taken off guard. But he doesn't let go of your hand, and after some silence, finally responds with, "The truth is, it's been longer than I've even known."

You can't help but laugh a bit at that, maybe a little nervously, saying, "What does that mean?"

Héctor smiles softly. "It means that I'm starting to think I've felt like this towards you for years. Like, at least five."

Your eyes widen at that as your heart rate begins to quicken. "Oh... my goodness, Héctor, that's so sweet...!" It really is. Hearing those words from him is so... touching.

He smiles awkwardly, glancing away from your gaze, before asking, "How long have you liked me? I mean, you do like me, right?"

"Héctor! Of course I like you! I like you a lot!" you exclaim, liking the way he happily looks back up at that. "I mean, I guess it hasn't been as long as you, but I've probably liked you for, like, at least eighteen months now."

He seems to be satisfied with hearing that, and says, "It kind of seems perfect, doesn't it?"

"What does?" you ask, your expression softening further.

"The way we've known each other... forever. Our families love each other, we have the same interests, we know all the little things about each other. It's almost as if..."

"...we're meant to be?" you finish after he trails off.

His eyebrows happily shoot up. "How'd you know that's just what I was going to say?"

You chuckle. "I guess we're just on the same wavelength, too, on top of it all, huh?"

He squeezes your hand, before daring to bring your hand up to his lips and gently kiss it, saying, "I guess we are, my princess."

You stare in awe at him, suddenly feeling like he's just shot you in the heart with an arrow of love, regardless of how cheesy that all seems. You can't help but giggle and tease, "Oh my God, Héctor. I didn't know you had that in you!"

He beams, admittedly seeming quite pleased with himself.

Soon, then, he pays for the meal, and the two of you stand up to head out. As you walk, Héctor links arms with yours, and once you're outside, he turns to grab your shoulders gently, face you, and look into your eyes. All you can see in them is simple, beautiful, complete joy. It's then that he whispers, "I hope you know... how much this means to me. All of this."

You stare at him. He so... close. It's not like you haven't been this close to him before- you have, many times.

But this time? This time, it just feels... well, different.

This time is different.

His thumb gently rubs your shoulder. The tenderness in his dark brown eyes...

You swallow.

"You're so beautiful... I'm so glad I get the privilege to be so close to you. I'm so glad you're my best friend."

"And I'm so glad you're my boyfriend," you suddenly blurt with a silly little smile, your heart pounding at the words you just let slip from your lips.

His eyes immediately widen. "You... You really want to...?"

You lean in close, gazing up at him, "I'd love to, and I know you would, too."

He grins, before it slowly dies down to a simple, soft, dreamy smile. "I sure would..." he barely murmurs, moving his hand up to gently cup your cheek.

You chuckle breathy as he lean in, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek, before moving close to whisper in your ear, his cheek almost touching yours, his gentle, warm breath on your ear, "Well, I guess I've got to go now... But I'm excited for next time, huh?"

You grin, whispering back, "Oh, Héctor, I hope you know I can't wait."

He grins back and whispers, "Good. Me neither. Now, bye bye, Y/n!" He leans away again, pecking you on your cheek, closer to your mouth this time, and waves as he starts heading off.

You beam. "Bye bye, Héc!"

And this time, he doesn't seem to mind you calling him that. In fact, he might actually like it. Just a bit.

[moosesarecute]

December 14th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

...I'm sorry

Saying goodbye to Nick was not fun. Annette already missed the small amount of time she had spent with him and the elves.

Benard then winnowed her to the northern boarder of the Winter Court. They had provided her with a new backpack, a map, a lot of berry juice, food and clothing. Nick had also given her a few different pieces of paper. He called it “some easy reading for the journey”. Annette really looked forward to reading them.

“Thank you, Benard,” Annette told her new friend.

Benard gave her a small bow and disappeared. Annette was suddenly very alone, but she had hope. She was going to find her family.

They had planned her entire journey. She was going to walk through the first half of the Middle and then fly as far as she could. The southern part of the Middle was the safest and she still didn’t have too much energy.

“Okay,” she said to hype herself up and then she started to walk.

She walked and walked and walked. She went past so many trees and so many birds, but she paid no attention to any of them. Nick had told her about the dangers that could live in the Middle and told her to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

After a few hours, her heart started to pull. The feeling overwhelmed her at first, but she did as Nick told her, she followed it. She let the pull chose her path.

She walked for just a little longer, until she stopped to eat. She ate some of the snacks she had gotten and drank some of the Winter Berry juice.

After the drink, she started to feel…weird. Not bad weird, but good weird.

Her mind felt clear. She felt lighter. As she continued her walk, her body felt easy. Her chest pull became stronger and stronger. And a line started to form in her chest. She could almost touch it with her mind.

After that happened, everything happened so quickly.

She was suddenly covered. Covered in black and sheer moving shapes. They hugged her entire body. The feeling was familiar, even though he knew nothing about her. One of them wrapped tightly around her ring finger. They danced around her, and she almost started to dance with them, when she heard a voice.

“There you are.”

Annette’s eyes shot towards the voice, and she met Bru’s serious eyes.

“We’ve got you now.”

Annette immediately started to back away, but she walked straight into something. She quickly turned around and was met by Cris.

They had surrounded her.

Cris grabbed her by her throat, but the black creatures pulled him off her. They however weren’t enough to hold back both males. Bru jumped at her again by the throat. She tried to fight him, but with her weak body and the surprise of the attack made her unable to move.

Her vision started to blacken as Bru’s grip tightened.

As she started to black out. The only thought in her mind was…Az?

Azriel woke up with pain in his chest. He had taken a nap to try to disappear from his feelings.

It wasn’t as intense as last time, but it was like it was starting to form. The bond was starting to form.

He rushed out of his bed.

“Find her.” he commanded his shadows. They parted into five and went five different directions.

Azriel rushed into his leathers and put on any weapon he had in sight. If he had to fight, he would. Nothing was keeping him from finding you.

The feeling of the bond heightened. He let out a cry and his legs gave out underneath him. He dug deep and lifted the bonded. He tugged and when he felt something on the other side, he gave out a louder cry.

He pulled and pulled and pulled. It was too weak to tell him where you were, but it was there.

“Please,” he begged. “Please.”

He couldn’t find you.

He got up on his feet and jumped out of the window. He flew the fastest he had ever done. He pulled and pulled and pulled, but nothing answered.

He felt so overwhelmed. He cried his eyes out as he kept begging for something to lead him to you.

“We’ve got her.”

Azriel didn’t hesitate as he shadow-walked where the shadows wanted to take him.

He ended up in the Middle. He had never shadow-walked that far before. But it didn’t matter, because you weren’t there.

“Sorry, sorry, lost her, sorry.” His shadows cried into his head.

“No, no, no, no.”

You had been here, but he was too late. He tried to look around for signs, but he couldn’t find any.

“Y/N, please.”

He was giving up, when his shadows grabbed his wrist and aggressively pulled him. They guided him to a hat.

It was simple, but warm. It was knitted. He picked it up, but didn’t notice anything important. He was going to let it onto the ground when he smelled you.

He got weak in his knees. The smell of his love. But it wasn’t right. Something was different. It was sour.

“I’m sorry.” He cried.

You were scared. Your smell was off because you were scared. You were scared and he had been too late to save you.

He had to find you.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn @mich0731 @tele86 @mellowmusings @anarchiii @anainkandpaper @donnadiddadog @atomictyphoonkitten @annablack @graciepies @salvatoresister1 @nastylicious @plants-w0rld @stqrgirlies-blog

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by: @issysh3ll

[ticklygiggles]

Lunch break | Asaba Harumasa x Mocha [n$fw]

Commissioner's OC | PPYMIA COMCO

A/N: Collab with always precious and beautiful @ppystkposts commissioned by @kusuguricafe! We hope you enjoy this, thank you for your support!

Big thanks to always wonderful @lovelynim for beta reading this fic and also for providing the images used in this fic hehe mwah love

Friendly reminder that we still have two free slots!

Summary: Harumasa has a little visit during lunch break.

Words: 2.7k

Reports, reports, and more reports.

This was, without a doubt, the most mind-numbing and soul-crushingly dull aspect of his job, and, of course, the one he detested the most. As he sat there, staring blankly at the endless stream of paperwork, his mind inevitably wandered to his stunning girlfriend.

A goofy, soft grin spread across Harumasa's face at the mere thought of her, his heart skipping a beat that sent a delightful shiver coursing through his chest and down to his stomach. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he felt embarrassed for behaving like a smitten schoolboy with his first crush, unable to shake off the silly, lovesick feeling that had taken hold of him.

As he glanced at the clock on the wall, he realized that lunchtime was fast approaching, and a wild, impulsive idea suddenly came to his mind. He swiftly grabbed his phone and opened the messaging app, his fingers flying across the screen as he navigated to her chat, a sense of excitement and anticipation building in his chest.

He chuckled to himself, feeling exactly like an excited kid. He quickly glanced behind him, making sure the Deputy Chief wasn't around and that Soukaku and Miyabi had their nose buried in their own work, (something he should be doing as well), and quickly answered her again:

Boosted… well, it didn't matter. He quickly typed again:

His heart pounded against his chest; somehow he felt the exact nervous anticipation he had felt when he mustered the courage to ask Mocha to be his girlfriend. There was really no reason to feel so terribly nervous, but he was desperate to see her and get away from the stress these annoying reports were causing him. His heart skipped a beat as his phone vibrated in his hand with a new notification. He straightened his back and read the new message, letting out a sigh of relief. 

Those five minutes, followed by the agonizing wait until lunch time, felt like eons to Harumasa. The clock's hands seemed frozen in place, refusing to move. He would glance up, convinced that a good ten minutes had elapsed, only to discover with great horror that a mere sixty seconds had ticked by. He fought against a loud whine, frustrated to the core. 

Finally, after three eternities, it was lunchtime and Harumasa jumped up from his chair, making it spin. 

“Ah, Harumasamasa!” Soukaku’s voice stopped him. “Are you having lunch with us?” 

He groaned internally as he turned around to look at her and Miyabi, smiling the kindest smile he could muster. “Not today. I'm having a little visit over lunch break, I need to go pick them up now– I'll see you later!” 

He dashed out of the office and the building, quickly spotting Mocha near the entrance. A warm, loving smile spread across his lips as he approached her with silent steps, almost tiptoeing, her back facing him. Grinning mischievously to himself, he stopped just a couple of steps away from her and leaned close.

“Did I make you wait long, beautiful?” He whispered against her ear, making it twitch, and he laughed loudly as Mocha jumped nearly out of the stratosphere. Mocha's tail hairs stood on end as she quickly turned around and hit him in the chest. “Ouch?” Harumasa said with a smirk.

“You scared me!” She said with a pout that Harumasa couldn't resist pinching tenderly, making her whine. “Is this how you say hello?” 

He grinned, leaning down to steal a tender kiss to her lips. “Hello, beautiful. You look stunning today, what's new~” he purred and seeing her adorable pout morph into a shy smile, he knew he had won her over again, his heart fluttered. 

He laced his fingers through hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and guiding her into the building and into the empty office. Mocha had been there a couple of times before, but she always seemed adorably surprised by it all. 

“That truly looks boring,” she said as she checked a few forms piled up over Harumasa’s desk. “Now I understand why you always procrastinate.” 

He chuckled softly, sitting back in his chair and reaching out to grasp her wrists, gently pulling her onto his lap. Mocha's soft giggles filled the air as she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself, her tail wrapping around his waist. Harumasa gazed at her adoringly as she took in every nook and cranny of the empty office.

“It's quite scary with just the two of us here,” she said in almost a whisper and Harumasa chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle his face against her neck. 

“It's not as loud and fast paced as your cafe, is it?” She shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she felt a tender kiss being pressed to the side of her neck. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, and she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed. Harumasa smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“N-Now now…," she giggled, her voice trembling as his hand caressed up her thigh, slipping under her skirt to tease the soft skin. "Masa~ we're in your office," she reminded him, her voice laced with laughter as his fingers lightly tickled her thigh.

Harumasa mumbled against her neck, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "Hmm, doesn't matter," he whispered, pressing his body flush against hers. "They're all having lunch somewhere."

A soft little mewl escaped her lips as another kiss was pressed to her neck and Harumasa felt a shudder run down his spine. 

“There are cameras, though, we better-” 

She began, but her words abruptly cut off as she suddenly jumped off Harumasa’s lap, catching him off guard. To his surprise, Mocha grasped one of his wrists and dragged him towards a closet in one of the corners of the office. Harumasa’s confusion deepened, but he didn't resist her. Instead, he extended his other hand, giving her a playful spank that made her squeal and blush. Mocha shot him a playful glare over her shoulder as she opened the closet door and unceremoniously pushed Harumasa inside. He chuckled, still confused. 

“What are you- mff-!” Mocha slipped inside as well, closing the door behind her and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him into a passionate kiss.

Harumasa hummed in approval, moaning softly against her lips as his hands grasped her waist, pulling her close against him. Their hips met, rubbing slightly against each other, filling the little closer with soft sighs, whimpers and moans. 

“This is so naughty,” Harumasa said breathlessly, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips. When he woke up that morning, he would never have imagined that he’d spend his lunch break satisfying another kind of hunger with Mocha in a closet in his office. 

She grinned, her eyes half-closed in pleasure, as she pressed herself closer to him, their bodies flush against each other. Her breasts crushed against his chest, sending a flush of embarrassment through Harumasa's cheeks. 

“Don't pretend you don't love it,” she whispered against his lips as she started to unbutton his shirt, each button revealing a silver of Harumasa's skin to her gentle, teasing touch. His skin erupted in goosebumps as her fingers danced across his chest.

Harumasa's heart pounded against his chest as he looked at Mocha's beautiful face, her delicate fingers undoing each button. His eyes were filled with affection and dark with lust. Mocha could make him feel a hundred emotions all at once with just a simple glance. He wanted to cherish and protect her, almost possessively, and, at the same time, wanted to take her, to claim her as his own in every single chance he got. 

His fingers, trembling slightly as if this was his first time with her, sneaked under the hem of her shirt and she grinned, visibly shuddering as he squeezed her waist, digging into the flesh, making her bite her lip in a vain attempt to stifle a moan. 

“Someone's been very naughty today,” she purred, her tail lazily swishing from side to side as she started to untie his tie.

Harumasa smirked, leaning down to place a soft peck to her lips. “Don't pretend you don't love it,” he teased, grinning. Mocha chuckled, her cheeks blushing pink.

“I do love it,” she admitted with a nod. “But I also think you need a little punishment.”

Harumasa's eyes sparkled with lust and amusement. “Oh? Don't threaten me with a good time, kitten,” he whispered, blowing cool air against her ear, making her squeal and her ear twitch.

She glared at him playfully, seizing his wrists from her waist and binding them with his tie. Harumasa gasped, looking at the door of the closet out of instinct before he looked back at the cute bow she had created.

Mocha grinned mischievously at him as she lifted  his arms, hooking them around her neck. Harumasa sighed, blushing as her eyes roamed over his exposed skin. She licked her lips like a hungry lion. 

This certainly was… new. She really wasn't one to try different things during their intimate times, but he couldn't say he was against it.

Harumasa chuckled softly, shuddering when her fingernails grazed the skin of his stomach, his flesh waking up with goosebumps as she traced the contours of his abs. He squirmed slightly, choking on a soft squeal as she circled his belly button. 

“It tickles,” he mumbled with a soft gasp, his body jerking away from her touch. 

Mocha grinned, tracing the curve of Harumasa's hip bones. “It does, doesn't it?”

His heart jumped and his eyes widened in realization. He shook his head. “N-No! Not that, M-Mocha, please!” 

“Shh shh shh.” She tiptoed to reach his lips, kissing them once. “Someone might hear you,” she purred, her fingernails dragging up and down his sides, making him arch with gasps and whimpers that eventually morphed into giggles and soft squeals.

Her touch was gentle, just like the caresse of a soft feather, almost itchy– tortuous, yet, somehow, kind of nice. A sudden burst of laughter escaped Harumasa's lips as her nails danced along his waist, sending shivers down his spine. 

He wanted to lower his arms, but he knew that would put pressure on her neck and he understood why she had chosen that position. Mocha knew he would do his best to not hurt her with any harsh movement. Harumasa whined, giggling again as her nails dragged against the back of his ribs.

“Thihis is so unfahahair, Mocha! Why are you even- ahahaha! Wait! Wahahahit!” 

Ugh, he really was too ticklish for his own good, it was almost embarrassing. Some simple squeezes to his waist were enough to have him giggling like a stupid kid, and twisting his body from side to side, trying to shake off her teasing, wiggling fingers.

“Does it tickle, baby?” She asked teasingly, giggling along with him as he jolted and squealed. “You're so terribly ticklish, are you not?” 

Harumasa whined again, the volume and desperation of his laughter increasing as she moved lower, her thumbs rubbing deep, maddening and so horrendously ticklish circles into his hips that nearly had him shrieking with laughter. 

“Stahahap! I'm seheherious! I fuhuhucking- ahahahaha! Plehehease!” 

“Oh my, oh my, what language is that?” she teased, squeezing his hips in a frantic pace that had Harumasa throwing his head back with loud bouts of laughter. 

Mocha's random ideas always seem to catch him off guard. Instead of the steamy moment he was expecting to have with her, she'd chosen to torment him with tickles, knowing full well that he–

“AHAHAHA! NO! No, nohohot thehehere! PLEHEHEASE!” He leaned against the cold metal wall of the closet, shifting back and forth, trying to get away from Mocha's wicked fingers that had found a place under his arms, tickling his poor armpits as if her life depended on it. 

Harumasa laughed nearly in hysterics, the back of his head banging against the closet wall, as if he wanted to distract himself from the overwhelming sensation. Mocha laughed, but her fingers didn't stop for a second. 

"Stop that! You'll hurt yourself!" she scolded him, but her lips were spread in a wide, playful and mischievous smile as she pinched the ticklish never right in the middle of Harumasa's armpits. 

Harumasa shook his head, his cheeks bright red and his tears twinkling in his eyelashes. “STAHAHAP! You k-knohohow I'm sihihick! Thihis wihill mahahake mehehe- AHAHA! Plehehease!” 

Mocha rolled her eyes fondly, pressing herself a bit more against him to pin him against the wall, but a soft gasp escaped her lips when something poked at her thigh. 

Harumasa widened his eyes, looking down at the same time Mocha did, her fingers coming to a sudden stop as they both looked down between their bodies. 

He gasped in horror and Mocha's mouth fell open. “Ohoho~ do you want me to take care of that?” 

Harumasa shook his head almost desperately, finding a way to unhook his arms from around her neck and reaching down to try and catch Mocha's hands that were starting to unbutton and unzip his pants. Why on earth was be hard?!

“M-Mocha!” He pleaded. “B-Baby, I don't think- oh, fuck~”

Mocha giggled softly. “Oh yeah, that feels so good right?” Her hands had pulled down his clothes in the blink of an eye, his pants and underwear pooling at his ankles. Harumasa threw his head back as she began to stroke his hard cock slowly, so painfully slowly. Shivers of pressure ran down his spine, causing him to arch his back and slowly roll his hips. 

“M-My lovely, ngh! Oh shit, faster please, faster- ack! N-No! Nohoho, wahahait! Nohot tihihickling!”

While her strokes became faster just as he had asked, her other hand had also sprung into action. Harumasa squirmed, trying to press his arms to his body as much as possible. But Mocha's fingers were slender and deft and she didn't struggle to sneak back under his arm to tickle his armpit once more.

Harumasa's voice was a combination of hysterical laughter, broken moans, ragged breathing and the occasional whimper, he was a complete mess. Hating the tickling, but loving it at the same time, his hips moving quickly as he fucked himself into her hand. 

“Fuhuhuck~! Angh! More, more~” he begged, tears of laughter, pleasure and desperation streaming down his cheeks. 

Mocha giggled softly, her cheeks flushed as her eyes studied Harumasa's expression. He cried softly as her thumb swept against his tip, teasing the glands just as she knew he loved it. 

Harumasa moaned loudly, his mind overwhelmed with the sensations that seemed to come from all sides. The tickles moving from his armpit to his ribs and then to his hip, Mocha's hand jerking him off, and even her lips, which had begun to move on his neck, leaving wet kisses on all the places she had memorized were sensitive. 

He felt his body tense, his breathing becoming more frantic, his eyes crossing. He was on the edge, it only took a small push to be able to cum in Mocha's hand. Just a little– 

Two knocks on the door. “Asaba-kun.” It was Yanagi. “Lunch break is almost better cut it out before…” 

Yanagi's voice faded as his eyes rolled back, cumming hard. Mocha pressed a hand against his mouth to muffle the moans as he came undone under her ministrations. Harumasa trembled with pleasure, his cum dripping from Mocha's hand as she milked the last drop of his release. 

Yanagi's heels softly faded away. Of course, she didn't want to be there when Harumasa and Mocha came out of the closet in a mess. Harumasa gasped as Mocha slowly pulled her hand away from his mouth, a trickle of saliva connecting his lips to her palm. 

As he returned from his high, his eyes met Mocha's and he grinned lazily. 

"I think I'll get an administrative report," he said with no concern in his eyes and Mocha laughed lightly. 

“I think you're going to be in a lot of trouble," she said with a bit of empathy in her voice. 

Harumasa hummed. “Maybe…” He looked at the watch on his wrist and then looked at Mocha with a mischievous smile. “Untie me. We still have five minutes.” 

Mocha blinked. “Five minutes for what- ah~!” 

Feeling Mocha's wetness on his fingers almost made him cum again. Five minutes was definitely more than enough. 

[yuriisclumsy]

After I read that Cale x flirty reader!!..I screamed..Like oh my!!.. Can I make a request where is the enemy to lovers?.. Like the reader is a villain who likes to flirt with Cale every time they meet. In addition, this reader is shameless.. Definitely a mess dan chaotic 🤣🤣🤣.. And the reader kisses Cale on the cheek before she leaves saying 'Next time we meet, I'll ask for the size of your ring finger, Bye baby.".. I want to see Cale and the many reactions too..Bye author

Take care of yourself 😘

Villains Have a Heart Too, Y'know

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,355

»»►When I got this request I was surprised many people liked Flirty Reader!

»»►I went off a bit from the request, but what can I do? When a good plot just pops up I have to follow it, no matter if it has little to do with the request. Still, I do try to make it as closely to the asker's request.

»»►I feel like, for this scenario, it would take place in the Whooper Kingdom–you’ll know why once you read.

»»►On another note, [Name] has had encounters with Cale ever since he somehow got transmigrated into the world of Birth of a Hero. The man is tired. But let’s be real, when is he not?

»»►Cale just has to deal with another headache-giving-maniac sadly.

Metals were crashing.

The clash between steel signified a battle taking place. Brutal forces wrestle against each other for dominion. 

Fighting for power. It has always been like this.

Walls and towers, buildings–whether high or low–cumbled due to the aggressiveness of battle. Many scurried off to safety, finding a safe place to hide until the warfare concluded with its victors.

In the Whopper Kingdom, where mages were deemed to be spans of evil, stood a woman of great talent. She was a genius in her field, with masses tittling her: “The Grand Magician.”

The Grand Magician had been a force not to be reckoned with ever since her ascension through the Magic Tower. Which is why she is the main target for the Rebellion; Toonka's sworn enemy.

“Come back here witch!” a wounded man yelled.

“Awww, is little Toonka unable to land a hit?” the girl said. She giggled at the man’s inability to harm her.

“Why, you little sh-t! AHHH!” The man–Tookan–charged at her with fists fully ready to punch her. He missed by a large margin.

“You missed me!~” the girl taunted Toonka. She had been flying on a broom this whole time, using spells to her advantage, without fully killing the barbaric man. She had the power to eliminate her opponent, but she found more joy from playing with her food.

She laughed at Toonka’s poor excuse of attacks.

“Get down here you demon-incarnate!”

“My my, that insult is far too sophisticated for you! Did you finally grow a brain?”

“I alway had a brain you b-tch!” Toonka leaped in the air in anger, and missed her once again.

“What foul language,” the mage manifested a staff, “I should teach you some manners!” Twirling her staff summoned a ray of spells; casting lighting in the field—all which Toonka managed to avoid. How lucky.

“Damn you woman!” Toonka screamed as he barely missed a bolt.

“Hehehe…HAHAHAHA!” The girl laughed hysterically with tears in her eyes. She loved to see people from above, scramble like ants.

“Hahaha...ahhh. Dear me, I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” she said, wiping away a tear that had formed.

An orb suddenly appeared next to the mage flashing in alert.

“Hmmm…” in amusement she took it into her hands, one hand gracefully waving above it. An image appeared on the sphere; a red haired male was shown through the ball—he seems to be inside the Magic Tower.

“Dear me, if it isn't my sweet love,” she looks at Toonka after making the crystal ball disappear, “sorry, little Toonka, seems our playtime needs to be paused and rescheduled to a later date. Hope you can keep entertaining me. Ta ta~”

Casting a spell, she disappeared slowly to the disgust of the man she bid farewell to.

She had done it on purpose.

“GET BACK HERE YOU WRETCH!”

…

The twentieth floor, the master of the magic tower’s room.

“I-I thought I was going to die…!!”

A young mouse-dwarf child had almost seen his soul ascending to the heavens above a few seconds prior, when his tiny body was lifted off the ground and flew to the top of the magic tower.

He stepped back trying to ground himself. He bumped into someone, making him turn around apologetically.

“I-I’m sorry,” he turned around only to see a cat.

“Meoow.”

His eyes meet the gaze I casted at him.

“...”

“Ah.”

How awkward.

“There is one more floor in the magic tower,” the kid said, diverting his embarrassing moment. 

“Then is the twenty-first floor the master's room?” I, in all my mercy, went on with my business like nothing happened. This was much appreciated by the boy.

“No, that’s not what we call it.”

“Then what do you call it?” I questioned him.

The real room of the master of the magic tower. A place that even the non-wizard alliance hasn’t found; a room no one knew the existence of.

At Least, that was the only thing that was stated in Birth of a Hero.

“Ground Zero,” a high pitched voice responded.

“We call it Ground Zero.”

It doesn't belong to the child, nor could it have come from him–since he didn’t know the room's actual name–the cats did not speak in this form, they knew better than that.

I can recognize that voice even if I become half deaf…

“[Name]...” I called the name of the intruder, facing her as she appeared from a mist that manifested out of thin air.

“Hello,” She smiled innocently, “it’s been a while…dear Cale.”

I stare at her with a suspicion of a hundred detectives. “What are you doing here?”

The children recoil behind me. The mouse: scared out of his mind; The cats: hissing at the intruder.

She had been causing nothing but wreck since the day I met her.

“Awww… did you not miss me?” She pouted.

“No.” I said bluntly.

In truth, although she is destructive, she’s never killed anyone. She may act like an evil witch, but she’ll alway cast barriers to protect.

The reason she acts like she does is still a mystery, even to me.

“Bo-hoo…” She pouted. She quickly got over it and spoke, “So, Want the treasure of this tower now? You know, if you called for me beforehand, I would have shown you the way.”

“Then take me there.”

“Nope,” She smiled teasingly at me. Honestly…can’t I just have a day without a headache. “If I did, you would just leave right after, leaving me all alone in this empty tower.”

“Then what do you propose?” I inquired.

“Well… I want to join your little fiasco.”

“*HISS*” the cats hissed at her. They really don’t like her.

I narrowed my eyes on her. I can’t deny that she would be really useful if she joined us. But on the contrary, the people of the anti-wizard organization would look at us in a not so good light. Tonka is my main problem. If I let her in, Toonka will follow me until the end of the world for, quote-on-quote, “betraying him.”

I don’t need more problems. But his majesty would kill me if he found out I didn’t recruit her in. Luck isn't on my side this time.

“You can join.”

“Oh, I knew you wouldn't let me—wait, what?” she paused, looking at me incredulously. “What did you say?”

“I said you can join,” I repeated.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I CAN JOIN?!?!?!?”

We flinched back.

Jeez… Wasn’t it her idea in the first place? Why is she acting like this after I said yes? Honestly… I’ll never understand a woman’s mind.

“..yes,” I said slowly to not ignite another yell.

She jumped up and down while squealing in excitement.

“Oh, I have to go and pack my things!” she summoned her staff, with a swing in the air she started to disappear the same way she appeared. “See you soon love! Next time I’ll ask for your ring size!~”

“Oh, and little Mueller?” she spoke to the boy hiding behind me.

“Yes..!” he shrieked.

“Open up Ground Zero for Cale, will you?” She then fully vanished.

“*sigh…*” I turn to look at Mueller. “Well? Are you going to open ground zero, or not?”

“Ah! Y-yes, right away!” he scurried off to do what he was told.

What have I gotten myself into?

"Human, do you want me to obliviate her?"

"No!"

Fin

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Master-List

[wellspilled]

love me ⚾︎ a. volpe

your life over the years of loving anthony volpe. this is so long bc i have so many thoughts. this is very she fell first he fell harder bc i eat that shit UP

You first meet Anthony Volpe when you’re three months old.

He’s only a week old- your mothers had known each other since freshman orientation in college, and it only made sense for their children to forcibly become friends too. You're blinking at Anthony, who's sleeping in Isabelle's arms.

“She’s going to look just like you,” Isabelle says, and your mother beams. “She’s so beautiful.”

"I don't care what she looks like, as long as she's mine," your mother coos, laughing at how you don't tear your gaze away from the other baby. If you had eyebrows, they'd be furrowed, and you kick your leg in a way that almost looks irritated.

"Look at that," your mother muses, adjusting you in her arms, "have you already made a new friend?"

"I don't want to play tennis," Anthony says, and you frown.

It's hard for your six year old self to comprehend Anthony doing anything without you. You two are always attached, and you expect him to follow you when your parents are signing you up for spring recreational sports.

"I don't want to do t-ball," you retort, hoping that Anthony will look as bothered as you. He doesn't.

"That's fine," your mother interjects, setting a plate of snacks down in between you two. "You can do tennis, and Anthony can do t-ball."

Anthony sticks his tongue out at you, and you attempt to kick him under the table. You only manage to tap his foot.

"Are we still gon' be friends?" you ask, suddenly sounding very concerned. Your mother laughs from where she's washing dishes at the kitchen sink, and you pout at her lack of urgency about the situation.

"Of course you will. You two don't have to play the same sport to be friends," she soothes, and you nod, looking back at Anthony. He's more interested in a pretzel stick than your conversation.

"I'll go to your t-ball if you come to my tennis," you say, sticking your hand out for a shake like you've seen your parents do. Anthony thinks for a moment, then nods.

"Deal," he says, pretzel crumbs flying out of his mouth. In irritation, you tap his foot again.

You and Anthony sit knee to knee on your back porch, eating popsicles that you’d dug out of your freezer. You glance at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“Jenna Macklin asked me about you,” you say, looking down to your flip-flop covered feet. The nail polish that you and Olivia had done earlier in the week is chipping.

“What’d she ask?” Anthony questions, reading the joke on his popsicle stick as you ignore the weird feeling brewing in your stomach.

“She asked if you like anyone,” you say, biting the last of your treat as you swap your stick with his. You sigh, nudging your knee against his. “I think it’s because she likes you.”

You’ve known Anthony your whole life. You’d seen each other in the best of times and the worst of times, and yet your twelve year old self thinks that his answer to this question might determine how you feel about him for the rest of your friendship.

“I like someone,” he nods, kicking the grass under his feet aimlessly, “but not her.”

You relax, not even realizing your shoulders were tense. You nod, folding your arms over your knees and leaning your chin on them.

“Do you want me to tell her?” you ask, unable to look at him anymore. You feel like your skin is breaking out in a rash where your elbows are touching.

“You can if you want,” he shrugs, scratching at his forehead, “I don’t care what she thinks.”

You wait for a moment, listening to the cicadas chirp in the bushes nearby. “Who do you like?”

It’s Anthony’s turn to tense now, and you almost laugh at how scared he looks. He chews on the inside of his cheek, and you watch a butterfly dip behind his head.

“Nevermind,” you say, rising to your feet. “It doesn’t matter. As long as it’s not Jenna.”

Anthony’s brows narrow, and he stands up to meet you. He’d hit a growth spurt last summer, and now he's almost a foot taller than you. He taps your foot, and you don’t tap back.

“Why can’t it be Jenna?”

You pause, hesitating for a moment. “I don’t know. Forget I said anything.”

Anthony watches as you start up the steps into your house, and he grabs your arm. You turn, feeling your cheeks grow warm at him touching you.

“Why not Jenna?”

You pause for a moment. Jenna was a volleyball player who had every boy she could ever want at her feet. You were a tennis player who got bad sunburns and could barely keep your best friend off of a baseball field long enough to hold a conversation.

“She’s a bitch,” you shrug, heading back into your house. “C’mon. Let’s go play catch or something.”

Anthony drops the conversation, seeing that you’re clearly not into it. You don’t notice the way he watches you, or how you tap back when you lock your front door to head to the baseball field.

You’re sixteen when you watch your parents' wedding tape.

Anthony’s parents had left town for the weekend, leaving him and Olivia alone. Your mother had offered your house as a place for either sibling to stay if they wanted, and Anthony had come over the second his parents’ car was out of the driveway.

You’d been going through old VHS tapes in your basement when you’d come across your parents’ wedding tape. You’d watched it a handful of times before, mostly when you were younger and you believed that some kind of fairytale love would be attainable.

“How long ago was this?” Anthony asks, and you hum in thought, moving to lay on your stomach in front of the TV. He mirrors you, noticing how your eyes don’t leave the screen.

“They got married three years before I was born. So twenty, I guess,” you respond, leaning up on your elbows. Your parents are having their first dance, and you smile at your dad crying.

Anthony likes your parents a lot. He doesn’t really like them enough to watch them get married, though. He belatedly realizes that he’s only doing it for you. He can’t help but let his gaze drift towards you next to him. You’re far enough away that your shoulders don’t touch, but he almost wishes they would. You always smell nice, a scent he can’t ever pinpoint.

"What song is that?" he asks, and you tilt your head towards the screen as you try to listen better. You look over at him, brows knitted.

"It's Elvis," you decide, going back into your earlier position. "My mom said it's called Love Me, or something."

The song is nice. Your carpet burns against Anthony's elbows, and he tries not to notice how you look so much like your mom when she was younger. He blinks to try and force the images of you in a wedding dress out of his mind.

“Isn’t it so beautiful,” you murmur, almost in awe as you turn your head towards Anthony, “to be loved like that?”

Anthony feels like you’ve stabbed him through the chest. You look so hopeful, your gaze full of obvious admiration towards your parents. There’s a smattering of freckles across your nose from where you’d gotten tan playing tennis that summer, and Anthony thinks he could count them if he leans closer.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, swallowing harshly as you turn back towards the screen. You don’t notice the way that he continues to look at you even when you’ve turned away. He taps your foot, and you tap back.

Your last semester of high school is when you realize that you and Anthony aren’t kids anymore.

It should’ve clicked for you much earlier than a week before you two graduated high school, but everything had started to feel serious. You were looking at colleges and jobs out of state. Anthony committed to Vanderbilt, and you tried to ignore the pit in your chest when you thought about him leaving.

You two are lying on your high school tennis courts, tossing a ball between each other. You’d been hitting around for a while, but Anthony was slightly terrible at keeping the ball in play.

“My mom wants to know what you’re doing after graduation,” you say, tipping your head towards Anthony as you toss the ball. "I think we're gonna have a small lunch or something, if you want to come."

He looks back at you, squinting in the late afternoon sun. He throws the ball with a huff. “I don’t know. Stuff with my family, I guess.”

You nod, catching the ball. You sit up, looking down at Anthony who’s still laying down.

“I have something to tell you,” you say, voice nearly a whisper. Anthony sits up, looking slightly concerned at your tone.

“What is it?” he asks, no longer concerned with the ball. He taps his foot against yours, and you tap back.

“I committed to Duke.”

Anthony gapes at you, reaching out to grab your shoulders. “Shut the fuck up. You’re kidding.”

You shake your head, unable to stop the smile that’s bright on your face. Anthony looks just as excited as you, and you choke out a laugh.

“D1 tennis, AV,” you laugh, grabbing his hands that are on your shoulders. “Jesus, I haven’t told anybody about that.”

Anthony’s eyebrows nearly shoot off of his forehead. “Nobody?”

You shake your head. “Nobody. I got the email last week. I just didn’t want to tell anybody because-“

You pause. You think over your words for a minute, letting your hands drop into your lap.

“It would make everything real, you know?” you murmur, wringing your hands in your lap. “We’re leaving. We’re not gonna be three houses down anymore, or spend all of our time together. It’s just shitty. I don’t want to leave you.”

You could’ve expanded on the truth a bit more, but you think your little spiel did the trick. You’re going to miss Anthony more than anything else about New Jersey. You won’t mince words- there’s not enough days left in the summer for that.

Anthony pauses, his smile fading slightly. He nods in understanding, folding his legs so he’s sitting the same as you.

“But look at what you’re gonna do,” he responds, smile returning tenfold, “Duke isn’t some community college. You’re gonna be surrounded by the best players in the country, and you’re probably gonna beat a lot of them.”

Your smile turns shaky, and you duck your head before he can see you cry. "Yeah. North Carolina's kinda far, no?"

Anthony shakes his head, not commenting on your tears. "Nah. A day trip. We'll be a bit farther from each other at school, but I'll make the drive to come see you."

You huff a laugh. You know he's lying- you'd looked up the distance last night. Duke is seven hours from home, and nine hours from Vanderbilt. You don't have it in yourself to correct him.

You finally look back up at him. He looks just as internally upset as you, and it comforts you somehow. You sigh, tapping his foot. He taps back.

"Make me a promise," you say, and he nods. "That no matter what happens, we'll stay friends."

"You've known me since I was born," he responds, holding out his arms for a hug, "you're not getting rid of me that easily."

You and Anthony miss each other's milestones the next few years.

You're not with him when he signs to the Yankees because it was move in day. You were devastated- you'd called him sobbing, saying just as much.

"I'm so proud of you," you'd heaved, cries echoing throughout your dorm, "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there."

It evens out when he misses your college graduation because he was across the country playing in California.

"I'm such a shitty friend," he'd sighed, leaning against the wall outside of the locker room.

"You're not," you'd assured, stepping out into the hallway so you don't disturb the guests at your graduation party. "You were playing. I don't expect you to drop everything for me."

"I would've," he responds, tone growing softer. He can't see your smile, but he can hear it in your next sentence.

"I know. And I would too."

Silence drapes over the line, and you bite your bottom lip.

"I really miss you," you'd said, like it was a secret. Anthony feels something loosen in his chest, and he covers his face with his free hand.

"I miss you, too. I'll be home for a bit in the summer, okay? You have to come see me."

You feel tears burn in your eyes, but you swallow them back. "Okay. Don't forget about me in New York, okay?"

I could never, he thinks.

Your tennis career manages to bud outside of college.

Playing one singles since your sophomore year really pads your resume, and you were greeted with lots of offers from professional coaches after your graduation.

You're not sure that it's something you want to do. You watch Anthony play baseball nearly every night, and you feel nothing but exhilaration watching him in the big leagues. But is it something you want for yourself?

You don't dwell on it often. You have a steady job, friends, and a nice future for yourself in North Carolina. If nothing else comes from your sport, you're okay with it.

Homesickness had started to invade, you'd noticed. It wasn't even like you were homesick for New Jersey. Your parents visited frequently, and you'd taken a handful of trips back home since your graduation.

You're homesick for Anthony.

You see the Yankees Instagram account post photos and videos with him, but it doesn't feel real. That version isn't your Anthony. You wish sometimes that he was close enough to touch. Not even to touch, but to see. You'd kill for a conversation that wasn't a phone call.

It's on one of these lonely nights that you decide to call in reinforcements. Ignoring the fact that the Yankees had finished up their game just an hour ago, you dial one person who you know can help you.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Austin. Can I ask you a favor?"

You stay in New York for a week.

You get to watch the Subway Series, which is amazing in its own right. Anthony offers you tickets in the suite with the other wives and family members, but you decline. You want to be in the crowd.

Besides, you're not his girlfriend. No reason to pretend.

Game three is amazing for the team, an electric feeling in the crowd from fans and players alike. You scream your lungs out at Bellinger's home run, and wonder if Anthony is intimidated in the dugout. Probably not.

Although, it's not lost on you how stressed Anthony might be feeling about how he played.

None of that matters to you, though, when you're led onto the field by security after the game. You're incredibly nervous, stomach churning as you mentally prepare yourself to meet Anthony's teammates. All of your rehearsed greetings are thrown out the window when you emerge onto the field and see him outside of the dugout.

It pains you when you realize how long it's actually been since you've seen him in person. He'd built up more muscle, grown a few more inches, and had solidified himself as part of the Yankees roster. He looks nothing like the Anthony that would tap your foot in English just to get a rise out of you.

You freeze when he turns to look at you, as if sensing you on the field. You feel like a little girl again, only six years old and stupidly in love with your best friend.

He closes the distance before you can blink, and then you're in his arms.

He's sweating and holding you like he's afraid you're not real. You blink back tears you didn't know were falling, reciprocating the hug. You squeeze him, harder than you probably should, pressing your face into his shoulder.

"You did so good," you wheeze, feeling the tears falling despite your best efforts, "Anthony, I can't... I'm so proud of you."

He's laughing into your neck, the noise and action warming your skin. You pull back to look at his face, fingers shaking when he wipes your tears away with his thumb.

"You flatter me," he murmurs, and you nearly sob again at hearing his voice in person. You catch his hand that's wiping your tears and squeeze it, holding it to your chest.

"This probably isn't the place to be telling you this," you admit, and you see him smiling before you even get the words out, "but I missed you so much it was making me sick."

"Me too. Every day, I missed you," he nods, almost like if he doesn't respond he'll never get to speak to you again.

It goes quiet between you two, though it shouldn't be. There are so many things he could say to you, and none seem appropriate.

I'm in love with you. You're my best friend. I called your mom to ask about you because I hadn't heard from you in a week. I have pictures of us up in my apartment. I told the team we're dating. Austin knows I'm lying.

Instead, he settles for tapping his foot against yours. You smile, ignoring the new onslaught of tears as you press your face into his jersey.

-

robin's notes: okay yes childhood friends to lovers! trust this fic is NOT over. there will be a part two i just wanted to split it up bc it's going to be LONG. hope u enjoyed <3 taglist: @benarroz @maudesgf @chuppachuus

[nickeverdeen]

Request: Romantic imagine with Jinx x fem!Reader, where Reader is insecure about her intelligence and body, thinking she's stupid and fat. Jinx proceeds to comfort her

Thanks in advance

Godness | Jinx x fem!reader

Pairings: Jinx x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: angst/comfort

Warnings: Self-doubt, insecurity

Summary: You’re like an open book to Jinx so when she sanses something is up and finds out that the root of the problem is you being insecure she makes sure you know you’re more than enough.

Ps: I made this at 3 am so if any grammar is wrong don’t be too mean about it

————————

The humming of fluorescent lights filled the dimly lit room, accompanied by the faint crackle of Jinx’s latest creation sputtering on her workbench. She was in her element, goggles perched on her head and grease smudged on her cheek. You sat on a stool nearby, pretending to read a book you’d brought, though your mind was miles away.

It had been one of those days. The kind where every glance felt like judgment, every mirror reflection seemed a mockery. The silent whispers in your head weren’t so silent today, and the weight of it all pressed down on your chest.

Jinx must’ve sensed something was off, though. She was good at that—reading you, even when you thought you were hiding it well.

“Alright, spill,” she said suddenly, spinning around in her chair to face you. Her bright blue eyes narrowed playfully, but there was a hint of concern behind the grin she wore. “What’s crawlin’ around in that pretty little head of yours?”

You hesitated, clutching the book tighter. “It’s nothing,” you muttered. “Just… thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, not buying it for a second. She slid out of her chair and made her way over to you, plopping down cross-legged on the floor in front of your stool. She rested her chin in her hands, staring up at you. “Thinking about what?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating whether to open up. Eventually, the words spilled out, quiet but heavy. “About how… I don’t feel good enough. Like, I’m not smart enough. Or… I don’t look the way I should.”

Jinx blinked, her head tilting slightly. “What? Says who?”

“Just… people,” you said vaguely, unable to meet her eyes. “And myself, I guess. I mean, I look at you—how creative you are, how smart, how… amazing—and then there’s me. I’m just… me.”

For a moment, Jinx was silent. Then, she stood up abruptly, hands on her hips. “Well, that’s dumb.”

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“It’s dumb,” she repeated, matter-of-factly. “Thinking you’re not good enough? Total nonsense. You’re awesome, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a blind idiot.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she cut you off, leaning in closer with a sudden intensity. “You think you’re not smart? Babe, you’ve helped me figure out more puzzles than I can count. You keep me from blowing myself up half the time, which—trust me—is no easy feat.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite yourself. “That’s just common sense.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “And you’ve got a ton of it! Plus, you’re creative and funny and…” She trailed off, suddenly serious. “You’re everything I’m not, sometimes. You keep me grounded when I’m flying off the rails.”

You felt your cheeks heat, but the doubt still lingered. “What about… you know, how I look?”

Jinx’s expression softened, and she crouched in front of you again. “What about it? You’re gorgeous. Like, drop-dead, holy-shimmer gorgeous.”

You looked away, but she gently took your hands in hers, her voice softer now. “I mean it. I love every single part of you. Your curves, your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re excited about something. And if anyone ever says otherwise, I’ll blow them up.”

That made you laugh—a real laugh—and Jinx grinned, clearly pleased with herself. She stood and pulled you to your feet, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“You’re perfect to me,” she said, resting her forehead against yours. “And that’s what matters, right?”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding, the weight on your chest lifting just a little. Jinx pulled you closer, swaying slightly as if dancing to some imaginary tune.

“I mean it,” she whispered, her voice softer now. “You’re everything to me. Don’t let those nasty thoughts tell you otherwise.”

You held onto her tightly, a small smile breaking through the haze of doubt. Maybe, just maybe, you could start to believe her.

[saeun]

+ love, ‘su: he's so crazyyyy!!! can't take him anywhere lol XD ── tw. mentions of murder (not u)

yuta’s been acting weird, but you can’t put your finger on it. you’ve this aching gut feeling that something’s off with him, but he hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

he’s still acts like your loving boyfriend who refuses to sleep unless his arms are wrapped around you. each time the thought of yuta suddenly changing crosses you, a pang of guilt hits you.

you don’t want to doubt him, but it’s getting difficult to not suspect him. he’s no longer punctual — you can’t predict his timing anymore. even the hour he returns home is now a guessing game.

what happened to him? something’s weird — no, not just weird. it’s terrifying. physically it’s your yuta but is it really? why are his eyes unfocused all the time? is something or someone bothering him?

questions after questions swirl through yet there isn’t an answer that can satisfy you. you need yuta to speak, but he dances around the questions, refusing to give in.

the more you pry the more he gets annoyed. he doesn’t show it, but his firm answer never fails to stop you.

“baby, i said nothing. is. wrong.” he’d insist, warmingly smiling at you before he follows up with a question. “don’t you trust me?”

like usual, you’d remain silent, unable to drag it on. the conversations continued to run in circles. soon you gave up.

you can’t shake off the feeling, nor can you make him talk. as unfortunate as it is, it’s better to go with the flow. it’d be meaningless to anger him with butting in his business.

as for yuta, it pains him that he’s acting so cold, but that’s the only way to get you to stop. he loves you — worships you — but it’ll be detrimental if you were to find out that he isn’t your sweet boy.

you shower him with praises everyday, he can’t imagine what life would be like if he loses you. you’ve always said his hands are your favourite, which is why he bought multiple pairs of gloves. he can’t have the hands you adore be tainted. it’s a bit sloppy to cover his traces, but it’ll do.

after all, he’s not skilled in killing humans yet. his expertise is knowing how to murder curses, but maybe he can transfer those skills to humans too.

truth be told, this has been going on for some time. if he were to recall correctly, it’s been approximately twenty-three days since his first killing. he didn’t plan for it to happen — heavens, no! it just… did.

yuta’s self control is something worthy to be jealous of, but he lost every ounce of it that night. he gifted you a new dress, one that’s perfect to be dolled up in an expensive club that’s part casino. so said, so done.

you were his woman, ever so beautiful, but like moths to a flame, you attracted unnecessary attention. the amount of men that attempted to whisk you away exceeded the number ten. he couldn’t keep count on his fingers anymore. of course, you never hesitated to reject them. you even went as far as to slip in “i’m here with my boyfriend” whenever they approached.

but they were filthy flies. flies aren’t able to read the room, nor can they handle rejection. they’ll always come back to the meal — even if all they got was a whiff of the scent. flies are known to be pesky, greedy animals. unless you see them to their death, they’ll never leave.

the night played out smoothly, but yuta’s annoyance wasn’t soothed. he wanted to relieve it physically. he needed absolute dominance over something — something that’ll be easy to register a power imbalance with. what’s better than to overpower one of the flies? they’d be drunk and yuta happened to have held his alcohol, so he’s quite sober.

once he’s assured you were in deep sleep, he quietly left to set his plan in motion. he never thought that he’d feel ‘the hunter and the prey’ emotions against a human, but here he is. life is truly unpredictable. it’s unfortunate the random fly that was singled out couldn’t predict his murder.

a death by asphyxiation. the easiest way to kill someone if it’s your first time. yuta didn’t bother to clean up, simply opting for dragging the body in a back alley. there’s been a number of violent crimes the past week, he was sure it’ll be played off as one of those crimes. in that way, he won’t ever be suspected, and he was correct.

however, yuta, too, fell to greed. the adrenaline rush, the feeling of seeing someone struggle, the continuance of the life of someone being his decision to make — he wanted more. he couldn’t settle for just one. with long eyes that yearned for more than he should’ve, yuta’s killings didn’t stop. it soon became a pattern: every two weeks he’d kill someone — it didn’t matter who, as long as they did something he deemed wrong. yuta believed he acted on justice, but he knew he was just as wrong.

he became a vigilante to some, and a serial killer to others. regardless of what the public viewed him as, it caused unrest. the only time he stopped was the day you refused to go out in fear of the increase of murders in your city. your pain is his pain, he couldn’t bear to watch you cower in fear at the thought of becoming the next addition to the kill count.

the stop only lasted for one scheduled killing. he returned to his usual activities, becoming more and more skilled. with each murder he became braver — sometimes taking a limb off depending on if he liked the person or not.

but every secret was bound to be revealed, and his almost got caught when you found a patch of blood on his sweatpants.

“yuta, did you injure yourself and didn’t tell me?” you asked him with a disappointed tone, holding up his sweatpants to show the blood.

his heart stopped, a sick feeling in his stomach bubbled up. he didn’t injure himself, but he injured (killed) someone else. it’s not like he can say that and hope you bypass it.

“oh — i, i did,” he answered, nervously laughing. “i accidentally dropped the knife on my leg, sorry baby.”

it was a half-assed excuse, but since you trust him, you’ll believe it.

“then you should’ve told me!” you pouted, jokingly thinking that he didn’t trust you.

“sorry, sorry. but next time, don’t wash my clothes. i’ll do it.” it was a sudden demand, subtly killing the mood.

your eyebrows furrowed. you found it weird, but didn’t question it. yuta knew how absurd he sounded, but he can’t have you connecting the dots. sooner or later you would’ve realised his lies.

however, even without the clothes, you still found holes in his behaviour. you kept quiet about it until you couldn’t, but that resulted in him redirecting the conversation.

you’re too smart for your own good, if you were to cast aside your trust in him and realise your worries aren’t insane, you’d leave yuta in a heartbeat. he can’t have that. he won’t settle for it. heavens know what he’d resort to just to keep you in his arms.

yuta’s your sweet boy, and he’ll continue to be. if it meant giving up the killings, he’d do it. it won’t be too hard to find a replacement to satisfy his needs. but, would he need to give it up? if you find out, can’t he keep you tied down with him? he’s the hunter, after all.

[avocadorablepirate]

Beneath The Surface - 5

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: When memories, buried deep within your sea of emotions, resurface, you’re left to question what lies beneath the surface. Did he truly mean to leave you behind, or was there something more to his silence than you ever understood?

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of smoking, mentions of death, mild gore, OP spoilers, this story follows the Dressrosa arc.

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Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait, been a busy couple of months. Just for the long wait I’m going to upload one more chapter either tomorrow or some time next week :) Anyway, thank you for reading, hope you like this chapter.

Law felt his stomach drop. Doflamingo let out a maniacal laugh that echoed through the shattered throne room, followed by a low almost thoughtful hum. "Such a shame," he mused. "If you had both stuck with me...maybe you two could have lived a good life together." His words dripped with false pity, a cruel and unforgiving grin forming. "But now, I'll have to kill you both."

Law clutched Y/N tighter against him, desperate to keep her safe. Doflamingo's presence, his words, even Luffy's angry shouts as he tried to get out of the threads Doflamingo had wrapped him in - none of it mattered. Nothing mattered except the girl bleeding out in his arms.

Doflamingo shook his head in mock disappointment, letting out a small sigh. "The biggest mistake you made," he drawled, voice rising with pride. "Was thinking you ever had a chance of defeating me. I am of the noblest blood! A Celestial Dragon!"

Law felt more sick than he had previously. Each word that Doflamingo spoke was another knife to the gut. He has always known that Doflamingo carried himself like he was a cut above the rest. But hearing those words from his mouth made Law's stomach twist with revulsion. And then, Doflamingo twisted the knife even deeper.

"And you know who else is?"

Law's breath stilled. His world seemed to tilt.

No.

Doflamingo was lying. He had to be. It had to be nothing more than his usual manipulative lies. But the gleam in his eyes never left. Sheer amusement dancing behind them as he watched Law take in his every word. "Oh, come now!" he said, almost giddy. "There was a reason why I said she reminded me of Corazon...all that unbridled compassion. Unable to hurt even the smallest fly. Don't tell me you never wondered!"

It suddenly all made sense. Y/N's past, the way she spoke of her childhood in fragments, never fully understanding the grandeur of the place she lived in. Had she even known?

Corazon. Corazon had been a Celestial Dragon too. Had he known?

A memory stirred - one from years ago, when Law had still been just a boy, following another person who had given him a reason to keep living.

The crackling of fire filled the night air. Hues of gold and amber dancing against the rocky walls of the cave they had taken refuge in.

Corazon sat with his back against a boulder, a cigarette balanced loosely between his fingers as he lazily tended to the morsels of food that they had for the night. Law sat across from him, arms crossed, staring intently at the fire with his usual sullen expression.

Corazon exhaled a wisp of smoke, watching Law shift uncomfortably from the cool wind that rolled through - not about to admit that he was feeling cold. "You're quiet tonight. What's on your mind Law?"

It hadn't been long since they had left the Donquixote Pirates, and Law still wasn't entirely at ease around Corazon. He shot him a guarded glare. "Nothing."

Corazon chuckled, taking another drag. "That can't be true. Usually you're yelling at me about something by now."

Law rolled his eyes and scowled, but he didn't deny it.

A few moments passed in silence before Corazon pressed again. "C'mon, tell me what you're think about."

Law hesitated, his fingers tapping against his knees. He didn't want to say anything - he really didn't - especially not to Corazon. But the worry had been gnawing at him for weeks.

Finally, he muttered under his breath, "...Y/N."

Corazon tried to suppress a smile, he had heard the soft whisper of Law's friend's name, but he loved to tease. "What was that?"

"Y/N...," Law said louder this time, but still hesitant.

Corazon raised a brow, intrigued. "Oh?" A shit-eating grin spread across his face. "Now this is interesting."

Law scowled once more. "Shut up."

But Corazon's grin only widened, revelling in the boy's sudden shyness. "Stoic little Law, thinking about a girl?" He placed a hand dramatically over his heart before wiping a fake tear. "Why I never thought this day would come. What a historic moment."

Law turned away, hiding the heat creeping up his neck. "It's not like that."

Corazon hummed, clearly amused by the sight before him.

Law let out a sharp exhale, his hands now nervously fidgeting at his sides. "I just...will she be safe?"

Corazon paused mid drag, his teasing smile faltered momentarily. "Don't worry! We'll go back for her once you're cured."

But that hadn't been enough to convince Law. If anything, his shoulders slumped further, his expression more grim. Corazon noticed the shift and, after a second, tried a different approach. “What’s she like?” he asked casually, hoping the subject might distract Law from whatever was weighing him down.

Law seemed to be in thought. "...Strong." His voice was quieter now. "She's strong in her own way."

Corazon's expression softened slightly. "What do you mean?"

Law picked up a small rock and threw it into the fire. Sparks shot up into the air before fading. “She’s always helping people. Even when she has no reason to. Even when they've done nothing but hurt her. She just does it anyway.”

Corazon smiled faintly. “Sounds like me."

Law scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

The older man laughed, ruffling Law’s hair despite the boy’s protests.

But Corazon saw it - the way Law’s voice softened when he spoke about her. The way his eyes flickered, a little more alive. To Corazon's surprise Law continued to speak. “She never talks about it, but...I can tell. She didn’t grow up like us. She lived somewhere big - like a palace or something. She said it was lonely. Always had guards, always had people watching her, but she never really knew them. Then one day her parents decided to leave it all behind."

Corazon blew out smoke, his expression unreadable as he mulled over something far more serious than teasing Law about his obvious attachment. His grip on his cigarette tightened for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to relax. A palace, isolation, a life of luxury, yet you still felt like you had nothing.

He had no doubt.

He knew where she came from. It now made sense why his brother was so fond of her. But he said nothing. If it were true, Law didn't need that burden - not now.

Instead, he continued to listen to Law ramble on about the girl. “She acts like she’s fine, like losing her family doesn't bother her anymore, but sometimes...I can see it.” His voice dropped lower. “That same loneliness.”

Corazon frowned at Law's words, but made an attempt to lift the mood. "She seems like she's trouble," he said, a teasing smirk forming on his lips.

"She’s not!" Law snapped, his voice sharp with instinctive protectiveness, as if she were standing right beside him.

Corazon's lips quirked up as he nudged Law with his elbow. “So, what you’re saying is...you’ve been paying an awful lot of attention to her to know she's not trouble?”

Law’s expression twisted into offense. “Shut up.”

Corazon grinned. “No, no, this is interesting. No one knows this much about someone they don't pay attention to. That’s some real dedication, Law.”

Law shoved him. “I swear to god, shut up.”

Corazon burst out laughing, dodging the boy’s next attempt to push him over. “Admit it! You like her - no, you love her don’t you?”

Law buried his face in his hands, hiding his cheeks that were burning red. “I do not.”

“Oh, you definitely do.”

“I don’t.”

Corazon smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “Tell me, have you ever wanted to punch someone just because they upset her?”

Law flinched.

Corazon’s smirk grew. “Can't deny the allegations now Law."

Law groaned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Corazon grinned, taking his coat off and placing it over Law. “But you do love her~” his voice sang. Law scowled, but there was no real bite to it.

Corazon exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disappear. After a long pause, he spoke. "You know...sometimes, people like her - the ones who give everything without asking for anything in return - those are the ones who need protecting the most."

Law glanced at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his voice. Corazon offered a soft smile. “So, protect her, Law. Once this is all done, go protect her."

Law looked back at the fire, Corazon’s words sinking in.

“Yeah…”

Those words echoed through Law's head now like a curse.

"Oh this is too good."

Law was drawn away from the memory - Doflamingo's voice, smug and venomous, cutting in. "You've connected the dots, haven't you?" He smirked. "Corazon must have known. But he didn't tell you. How tragic."

It didn’t matter that Corazon didn't tell him. It didn't matter even if Y/N knew. Right now, all that mattered was that she was dying - and it was because of him.

"Poor, poor Law," Doflamingo mocked. "To have everything fall apart minutes before your death." Doflamingo stepped closer, strings dancing at the tips of his fingers. "It makes me kind of pity you."

Law felt his heart pound against his ribs, his mind screamed at him to move - to do something - to protect Y/N like Corazon had once told him to.

But he hadn't.

He had attacked with the full intent to kill, and she had been the one to take the blow. His Injection Shot had torn through her insides, just as he had planned it to do to Doflamingo.

He hadn't protected her.

He had hurt her.

And now, the image of Y/N's bloodied body, the memory of Corazon's dying smile, the sound of Doflamingo's laughter - it was all too much.

Doflamingo was right. She was like Corazon. And Law? Law was starting to think he was like Doflamingo. He hurt the people he called family.

—————

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @riftmage27 @enigma-of-grand-designs @extremely-ashtridic @crmnic @bluebunny002 @lynndt-chocolate @thekatisspooky

[stevesjockstrap]

(late) kinktober chapter 6: Steve/Eddie & predator/prey

ao3 is down so here’s something for you to read

Rated E • warnings: chasing kink, pet names, dom!eddie, come play • ao3 link

(Ghost in the Graveyard is a kid’s game that’s sorta opposite of hide and seek. The ‘ghost’ hides and everyone looks for them, but when someone finds them they yell “ghost in the graveyard” and the ghost has to try to tag one of the players before they get to base. Maybe an Old thing, maybe a Midwest thing?)

ETA: requested and cheerleaded by @lawrencebshoggoth 😘

Teaching the kids Ghost in the Graveyard had been all fun and games, literally, until Steve found himself being chased by Eddie towards Wheeler's front porch. He was sprinting all out but he could hear Eddie on his heels. He hadn’t been running for his life lately, while Eddie had been through a lot of physical therapy.

It sent a different kind of rush through his body and suddenly he thought maybe he would like to get caught.

Letting his instincts take over, he faked left then zigged right, Eddie flying past him as he changed directions. With an evil laugh, Eddie quickly tagged El who had stopped running to watch.

Steve grinned at him as he approached, El and the rest of the kids taking off to continue the game.

“Almost had you, my pretty,” Eddie said in a spooky voice.

“Almost let you, but I didn’t want the kids to see this,” he said lowly, finally pressing close as he met his boyfriend’s mouth.

Eddie was a bit shocked, taking a long moment to get his bearings before he took over the kiss, making Steve’s stomach swoop.

With a hum, he pulled back to look at Steve’s face. He must’ve finally gotten the picture, because he looked around quickly before pulling him to the side of the house.

Steve groaned when he was pressed bodily against the cold brick, an equal hardness pressing into his.

“Didn’t think the whole roleplaying thing was for you, Stevie,” Eddie teased.

“Maybe I don’t need the roleplaying part, just you desperate to catch me.”

Eddie bit into the meat of his jaw before moving his lips to his ear. “I’m always desperate for you, baby. I’ll ravage you anywhere any time.” He met his mouth in a filthy kiss, swallowing down his moan when he pressed his hips forward.

They broke apart as some called out in the yard behind them, “Ghost in the graveyard!’

Taking a second to breathe, Steve chuckled at the look he received. “We’ll continue this, later.”

“You bet we will,” Eddie grumbled.

As they approached the front of the house, Eddie shouted, “Last round, beastlings! Gotta get you all home.”

They all whined but finally Max ran off to hide.

By the time they’d gotten all the kids home safely, Steve was buzzing with anticipation of what he’d be met with at home.

All of the lights were out, which was strange as he always left a few on.

Unable to help himself, he called out into the darkness. “Eddie?”

The silence that met him was unnerving. His van was outside. He had to be there.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he saw his hook was stabbed through a piece of paper. Ripping it down quickly, coat now forgotten, he held the scrap up into the beam of moonlight through the window.

In Eddie’s jagged scrawl was written run.

Even though he had asked for this, uncertainty began coiling in his chest. Again he called out, “Eddie?”

But it echoed around his still house unanswered.

Adrenaline surged and he dropped his coat and the note and took off for the stairs. As soon as he reached them, he heard the thundering footsteps through the dining room. Eddie must’ve left his boots on.

Taking the steps two at a time, he half pulled himself up by the railing, while Eddie’s boots and unfamiliarity with his house slowed him down. Having gained some distance, he shot down the hall and quickly stepped into the hall bathroom.

Eddie hurried past the door and headed down towards the bedrooms. Steve held his breath and as quietly as he could slid the linen closet open and hid.

Trying to calm his racing heart, a different stirring in his belly had his cock filling.

“Oh Stevie,” Eddie called down the hall, having now checked all the bedrooms. “Want to make this hunt last, huh? We both know the little mouse wants to be caught.”

The bathroom light suddenly flicked on. He pulled his lips in between his teeth, trying to not breathe loudly as he stared out of the slats of the door. His heart was thundering loudly in his ears.

“Oh no, where could he be? I guess I just have to give up,” Eddie teased, ripping open the shower.

He pushed the heel of his hand against the bulge in his jeans. How was he so close already?

He blinked and his body reacted when the closet door was yanked open, he found himself jumping out and knocking a surprised Eddie back a few feet. His legs carried him towards the doorway, but he was caught around the middle and pushed face first towards the sink.

“Little mouse has teeth,” Eddie panted into his neck. “Let me show you mine, pretty.”

Steve cried out as teeth buried themselves into the muscle in his shoulder.

A hot tongue traced over the bite and up to his jaw, sending tingles down his spine. He just-

“So pretty like this, all writhing and caught,” Eddie murmured against his ear. One ringed hand found its way to his hair, pulling at the root as the other flicked across his chest.

An answering hardness pushed against his ass and the instinctual arch of his back made the head of his cock push just right against the edge of the counter.

Unable to find any words in his head, he tried frantically to make eye contact with Eddie in the mirror, but he was leaning in again to scrape sharp teeth down the tight line of his neck.

“Such a delicious little mouse I caught,” Eddie continued.

He sucked a mark into his neck, sliding his hand through the hair on his chest before coming to a stop with his palm flat.

“I can feel your heart going a mile a minute, baby.”

Steve could only pant while he received a filthy grin in the mirror. He felt helpless and caught, unable to move the tiniest bit to relieve the heavenly pressure on his cock. Stuck between the hard countertop and Eddie’s seemingly unmovable mass behind him. In his boots he was a few inches taller than him and that made him feel even more trapped.

But apparently none of that was a problem for his dick.

Eddie’s fingers pinched hard around a nipple and his body jolted with the sudden sting, quivering and shaking and making his hips push back and forth.

He tried to say something again, but the only thing that he managed was a whined, “Ohhh no, oh fuck!”

Steve’s hands clenched onto Eddie’s forearm as his orgasm ripped through him, his hips moving on their own accord as he emptied himself into his briefs.

“Did you…?”

Steve panted, clenching his eyes shut. He couldn’t believe it either.

“Oh my god, Stevie,” Eddie breathed.

“I’m sor-“

Eddie tugging him around to face him, stopping him with his own lips. When they finally broke apart, he received a wide grin. “Don’t you dare be sorry, sweetness. That is so fucking hot. You really liked this game, huh?”

Steve, still unsure, just nodded. He let go of Eddie’s arms and was immediately pulled close again, whining into the hard kiss as his sensitive cock came into contact with Eddie’s own hardness.

With a low hum, he pecked his bottom lip then his nose before pulling away again. “C’mon baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Finding himself sprawled on his back in his own bed still trying to calm his racing heart, Steve cried out as Eddie’s hot tongue swiped over his spent cock.

Catching his eye before he could form words, Eddie smirked up at him. “What? When the cat catches the mouse, he gets to play with it.”

After another long lick while holding eye contact, Steve watched as he crawled up his body to meet him in a messy kiss, sharing his come between them.

Eddie chuckled against his mouth and pulled back slightly to look at him. He realized he’d spread his legs, wrapping them around his hips. “You need more, baby? Still all wound up, huh?”

He nodded, and his belly swooped low again at the dark look he received for it. “Y-yes, Eds, need more. Need you.”

“Alright, little mouse. We can definitely do that.”

The nickname was killing him, as much as it was embarrassing and teasing, it made him want to give Eddie anything he wanted.

Instead of removing himself from Steve’s legs, he rolled them completely, Steve’s hands reaching for anything to hold on to. His weight settled on Eddie and he moaned.

Someone started rolling their hips and their mouths found each other’s again.

“Please. Please, Eddie,” Steve found himself begging into the space between their kisses.

Eddie shushed and cooed at him, sliding a hand between them. He then took the combination of their fluids and circled his fingers around his hole.

“More, c’mon,” he groaned.

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you? Here I thought I was getting to play with my treat.”

Steve clenched his fists into Eddie’s hair, arching his back at the perfect burn of just his come and Eddie’s spit opening him up.

His cock was trapped between them, rubbing against Eddie’s butter soft jeans.

Suddenly, he was looking up at the ceiling and Eddie wasn’t touching him anymore. Before he could complain, a tube landed on his chest.

Eddie was standing beside his bed, finally shrugging out of his layers and unbuckling his belt.

“Go ahead.”

The command itself almost had him coming again. He warmed up the lube in his hands, making sure to keep watching as the boots, belt, jeans and boxers were quickly removed. But then he lubed up his fingers and slid them inside of himself, allowing his eyes to unfocus.

“So fucking perfect for me, Stevie. God, look at you.”

Another rough finger slid alongside his own and immediately rubbed against his prostate.

“Nooo, Eds. Too close. Please! Need your cock!”

Eddie yanked his hand away by the wrist and settled between his legs.

The initial stretch stole the breath from him, his body relaxing completely as Eddie sunk in.

Steve wrapped his legs around him again and he kissed across his chest and neck, making him cry out with his slow deep rolls of his hips.

He’d never been so incredibly turned on, felt so incredibly needed and wanted. Every time with Eddie had, of course, been amazing, but now the adrenaline high coupled with him being so fucking sweet was magnifying every sensation.

“Gunna- fuuuck Eds,” he wailed as his second orgasm hit him like a freight train.

Eddie fucked him through it, groaning as his walls clenched around him. “That’s it, baby. Perfect little prey for me. Maybe I’ll suck my come from you. Make you come again until you’re screaming. What do you think? Huh? Cat got your tongue?”

Steve gasped as his mouth was overtaken again, his tongue sucked and bit as Eddie’s thrusts became irregular. They both cried out as he filled him up.

“Now what?”

Eddie looked over at him, raising a shoulder. “Order pizzas?”

He grinned. “Race you!”

dividers by @/puppy-stevee and @/fuctacles

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Six (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Anal sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X/Bluesky. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

*Please read authors note at the end! <3

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five.

Y/N Perspective.

It was finally the day, the day I’d leave with Tamayo and Yushiro to search for Giyu Tomioka. Kyojuro had sulked all morning, his mood dark despite granting me permission. Apparently, agreeing doesn’t mean acting mature about it.

I stopped by his den, knowing I wouldn’t see him for a while. Which… would be strange, considering I’ve gotten used to seeing him almost every day.

I ran my fingers through the thick fur between his ears, gently massaging. His tail coiled around my thigh, pulling me closer, as he leaned into my touch like a cat.

“I don’t want you to go,” his voice, low and resonant, echoed around us. “Stay here with me. Forget this nonsense of traveling. I’ll keep you warm, and fulfilled… you know I can.” His words dripped with persuasion.

I smiled softly, tracing the edges of his ears. “I’ll be back soon, you know that. Time will fly by, I promise,” I tried, my voice tender, though the reassurance felt weak.

His ears twitched, flattening with frustration. “My mate is leaving me… for who knows how long. I’ll miss you.”

My heart clenched, unfamiliar pain filling the space between us. I had never seen him like this, it’s more of a sad begging than an anger.

I continued to stroke the soft fur along his head and shoulders, pressing gentle kisses between his eyes and on his forehead. His purring and soft clicks were a small comfort, a sign that I was soothing him. When I pulled back to look at him, though, his expression still seemed sad. It was hard to believe that this was the same cryptid monster that scared half the world. Right now, he looked more like a big, heartbroken puppy.

“I have to go, Kyojuro… but I promise I’ll be back soon! And when I return, I’ll bring so many food offerings, you won’t know what to do with them all.” I smiled brightly, hoping to lift his mood.

It worked. His ears perked up, and that familiar sharp, toothy grin spread across his face.

“You… you really mean it?” His voice had a spark of excitement.

I laughed, unable to resist how cute he was in this moment. “Of course! I promise.”

Suddenly, his tail coiled around my waist, pulling me up to his height until we were eye-to-eye. He pressed his forehead against mine, the touch warm and intimate.

“You will come back to me,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “I won’t let you stay away for long. You are mine… my mate. I don’t want anything else to try and take you away.”

His voice was gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. Not that I wanted to. The truth was, I wasn’t planning to run.

I know now, I’m falling in love with this cryptid, I’m falling in love with kyojuro…

I felt his tail tighten around my waist, and his teeth grazed my skin in warning nips.

“Just hold still,” he growled low, the rumble vibrating against me.

Before I had time to process, a sharp, burning pain shot through me as his teeth sank into the flesh where my neck met my shoulder. I gasped, my fingers clutching the fur on his shoulders, holding on as the sting pulsed through me. After a moment, he withdrew, licking the blood from his lips.

“Forgive me, little human,” he murmured, his tone almost tender. “But I need my marks fresh before you go. My scent must linger.”

I nodded weakly. No matter how many times he did this, it never got easier. But if it meant he’d let me go, I wasn’t going to fight him. I’d just have to cover it up with my clothes and bandages later.

He leaned in, licking the blood from my neck and shoulder, his touch both cleaning and claiming.

“Go now,” he commanded softly, his voice lingering in my ear. “But don’t take too long. Tomioka may not be the most vicious monster… but he’s not one to underestimate.”

“I understand,” I replied, managing a small smile. “I’ll keep my guard up.”

His gaze lingered on me for a long moment before his grip loosened, and he set me gently back down.

“Farewell, my mate. Be careful,” he said, his voice softened now, almost vulnerable.

I gave him one last reassuring smile before turning to leave the den, the weight of his gaze still on me as I walked away. As I made my way back to the safe house, the tension in my chest slowly eased.

When I arrived, Tamayo and Yushiro were busy preparing medical supplies.

Yushiro glanced up as I emerged from the woods, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation.

“What the hell were you doing out there? You should be helping us pack,” he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Sorry… just doing some last-minute searching,” I said, chuckling awkwardly.

That was such a terrible excuse…

“Searching? For what, exactly?” he scoffed, clearly unconvinced.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tamayo cut in, her tone gentle but firm. “Y/N, go finish gathering the rest of the supplies.”

I silently thanked her for the save and hurried inside to help with the packing, the dull ache in my shoulder still nagging at me.

————————

Once everything was loaded up, we set out on the road. Climbing uphill, lugging bags full of supplies. This was definitely the last thing I wanted to be doing.

The air grew colder as we traveled further north, though it wasn’t unbearable yet. Still, it made me miss Kyojuro’s warmth, the way he’d wrap himself around me, engulfing me in his heat, making even the coldest nights bearable.

But for now, I pressed on. I made small talk with Tamayo and Yushiro, though the conversation mostly revolved around Giyu Tomioka and what we might face if we encountered him.

If I’m being honest, the thought made me nervous. As Kyojuro’s mate, Tomioka would undoubtedly pick up on his scent, a fellow Hashira’s scent. What concerned me was how he’d react. Would he respect it… or take it as a challenge?

The journey to our destination took about three days. We had to camp out multiple times and take frequent breaks because of the brutal weather. The northern shore was nestled in one of the most inconvenient, hard to reach places.

And this “beach” was anything but inviting. Jagged rocks in place of sand, a gloomy atmosphere hanging over us, and a biting chill in the air. It was a stark contrast to Kyojuro’s warm, vibrant territory.

But then I reminded myself: Giyu Tomioka is known as “The Kraken Hybrid.” A place like this, dark and cold, made far more sense for him than any forest ever would.

“We’re at the heart of it now,” Tamayo announced, her voice cutting through the wind. “We’ll set up camp and the research stations here.”

Yushiro and I exchanged a glance and got to work, picking a spot close enough to keep an eye on the waters but far enough from the high tides that we wouldn’t be caught off guard.

Our setup was decent, but Tamayo hadn’t mentioned how long she planned to stay here. Given the conditions, I hoped it wouldn’t be long.

I was debating whether to head out on my own to try and find Tomioka. With Kyojuro’s scent still on me, he’d be more likely to approach if I was alone. I didn’t want a repeat of what happened in Shinazugawa’s territory, these monsters are cautious around groups. It’s the same with Kyojuro. There’s no way he wasn’t aware of Tamayo’s safe house at the edge of his forest. He had to have known.

Tamayo’s spent her life researching and hunting these creatures, yet none of them have ever come near her. I don’t understand it. Still, I’m determined to bring her something, proof that her years of hard work weren’t all based on conspiracies and old folklore.

I’m hopeful. If we just keep looking, we’ll find something.

It took the rest of the evening to set everything up, and by the time we finished, we were all exhausted. Tamayo eventually sent Yushiro and me to fish by the shoreline. As usual, the silence between us was heavy, almost awkward. I never understood why she was so insistent on pairing us together for tasks like this.

When we got back with our catch, we started a small fire and cooked the fish. Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good, though I couldn’t help but think how much better it would’ve been with the right herbs and spices.

“We’ll rest tonight and begin our search tomorrow,” Tamayo said as we ate. “I want to stay for at least four days, long enough to find something of value.”

Yushiro glanced up from his food. “None of us are familiar with this territory. Where exactly do we start?”

Tamayo paused, considering his question for a moment before responding. “We’ll split up. Y/N, you’ll take one side of the shore, and Yushiro will take the other. Go as far as you can. I’ll cover the beach and the cliffs.”

I looked at her, concern creeping in. “Are you sure that’s safe? That’s a lot of ground to cover on your own.”

She smiled softly, her eyes calm but resolute. “I’ll be fine. You two focus on the shoreline. Pay attention to the water, if there’s any sign of activity, report it. We’ll meet back here before sunset.”

“Understood.” I nodded, but as I stared down at my lap, a dull sting pulsed in my shoulder. Kyojuro’s mark was deeper this time, more intense than usual. Even now, I could still feel the lingering burn of his claim.

I did my best to ignore the ache of the cold as we settled in for the night. The chill seemed to cut deeper out here; Kyojuro’s warm den had really spoiled me.

The ocean’s steady rhythm was soothing, the waves crashing, the wind sweeping through. If only it weren’t so cold, I could almost imagine this place as paradise.

By morning, the sun barely touched the sky. This place seemed locked in a gloomy haze, with a heavy, off-putting atmosphere hanging over everything.

Yushiro and I followed Tamayo’s plan, starting from the center of the shoreline and walking in opposite directions. It was growing frustrating. No matter how far I walked or how long I looked, there was nothing. no sign, no trace, nothing to even hint that something might be lurking here. I found myself scanning the waves for anything, but the ocean remained silent.

This went on for two days. Each morning, we repeated the same routine, and each evening we returned to camp empty-handed. Yushiro’s patience was thinning with each frigid, uneventful day. He’d begun pestering Tamayo to abandon the search early and return home.

But I was convinced we would find something. We had to. I knew these creatures were real. And Giyu Tomioka was out there somewhere.

As the day slipped into night quickly. I sat by the fire, restless and frustrated as Tamayo and Yushiro slept. Was the Kraken Hybrid really this elusive?

Unable to shake the feeling, I rose from my sleeping bag and wandered down to the shoreline, watching the stars scatter across the sky. For all the cloudiness in the mornings, the night sky was surprisingly clear, blanketed in starlight.

I paced along the familiar stretch of beach I’d walked each morning, trying to clear my mind. Of course, Tomioka wasn’t going to just reveal himself to a group of human hunters. He wasn’t foolish, but his ability to stay hidden was annoying.

I walked until the glow of our campfire faded into the distance. Just as I decided to turn back, a splash broke the quiet of the ocean. I whipped my head toward the sound, my heart leaping as I watched ripples spreading across the water. That was no wave… what was it?

Before I could react, something slick and cold wrapped around my ankle. I looked down, my stomach twisting as I saw what looked like a tentacle coiling tightly around me. Then, with a sudden, forceful pull, I was yanked off my feet, hitting the gravelly shore before plunging into the freezing water.

Panic seized me. Saltwater stung my eyes, blurring my vision, but I forced them open. A pair of deep blue eyes stared back at me, unblinking, intense, a stoic gaze that sent a shiver through me despite the water’s chill.

My lungs burned, my heart racing as I tried to pull myself together. I needed air. Desperately, I struggled, kicking hard and paddling toward the surface.

Finally, I broke free, gasping and coughing, my throat raw from the saltwater. My nose ran, my eyes were bloodshot, and my limbs ached from the struggle. But as I gulped down fresh air, I realized something with a strange, thrilling certainty.

I had just encountered Giyu Tomioka.

Shit.

I struggled to paddle toward the shore, my lungs heaving as I gulped for air. The shock of the icy water set my body trembling.

I barely had a moment before another slick tentacle wound around my wrist, followed by another around my ankle, pulling me back. I turned, eyes widening as a dark figure began to emerge from the depths, moving closer to the shore, water cascading down its form.

As my vision cleared, I took him in. Long hair, dark as midnight, framed a face with eyes as deep and cold as the ocean itself. His upper body was muscular, almost human, though gills lined his abdomen. But his lower half tentacles, thick and sinuous, replaced what should have been legs. Despite his stoic expression, he was… beautiful, in a chilling, otherworldly way.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice low, resonant.

I hesitated, my mind scrambling for the right words. “My name is Y/N L/N. I’m… a researcher.” That sounded better than ‘hunter.’ “I’m here with—”

His gaze swept over me, his tentacles tightening around my limbs, pinning me effortlessly.

“No… that’s not who you are,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he focused on my neck, where Kyojuro’s mark lay hidden beneath my shirt.

“You’re Rengoku’s mate,” he said flatly, a hint of distaste in his tone. “I can smell him all over you. So, tell me, what business does his mate have this far from his territory? You’re miles beyond his borders.” His voice took on a harder edge, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. He knows who I am, and he definitely doesn’t look thrilled about it.

“Yes, I know I’m far from where I’m supposed to be. But I wasn’t lying, I really am a researcher. And as you’ve probably already guessed, I’m not alone here. To keep it brief, I’m here with my team to prove your existence.”

He blinked, expression blank, then raised a brow. “And you expect me to just expose myself to humans? To become some exhibit in the name of ‘research?’” His voice sharpened, irritation clear.

Damn it. Why was I phrasing this so badly?

“N-no, that’s not what I mean!” I stammered. “We’re only looking for proof that monsters once existed… without disturbing any of you.” I tried to explain, but my words still sounded flimsy.

He tilted his head slightly, watching me intently.

“We’re searching for evidence, anything to show that the guardians of this world weren’t just myths,” I added, my voice betraying my nerves.

“So, you trekked all the way here just to prove I exist?” he asked, his tone skeptical.

I nodded. “Yes. I mean, I know about the Hashira… obviously, since I’m Kyojuro’s mate. But—”

“But you couldn’t sell him out,” he interrupted, his gaze piercing. “Not even for the sake of ‘research,’ could you?”

I let out a sigh, feeling both frustrated and exposed. Was I really that easy to read?

He studied me with an unsettling intensity, his deep blue eyes flickering with something unreadable. His grip didn’t loosen, the tentacles wrapped around my wrist and ankle holding firm.

"How foolish," he finally said, voice low and cold. “Humans always believe they can wade into waters they don’t belong in and remain unscathed. Do you even truly understand what you're meddling with?"

"I… I think I do," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though my pulse was pounding in my ears. "We don’t want to interfere; we’re just searching for traces, something to prove that monsters, your kind… existed. It’s about respecting history, preserving the truth.”

He gave a quiet scoff, his grip tightening, almost like he was testing my strength. "History. Truth. Words humans cling to when they’re desperate for answers. But do you really want to know the truth?" He leaned closer, his breath brushing my skin like a cold breeze. “What will you do when you find it, human? What will you do when it terrifies you? It appears Rengoku has not told you enough. That alone is concerning.”

What, What does that mean?

My mouth went dry, but I held his gaze. "I’ll face it. Because… some of us still believe in what you once were. Guardians. Protectors."

He stilled, his expression hard to read, but something softened in his eyes, a flicker of surprise.

“You think we still carry that purpose? That we owe humans anything?” His voice was a mix of bitterness and curiosity, a quiet challenge in his tone.

I swallowed, choosing my words carefully. “I think… your existence isn’t owed to anyone. But maybe there’s a reason you’re still here, and maybe we’re meant to remember that reason.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his face unreadable, then released a deep sigh, as though weary.

“Fine. Out of peace and my small remaining of respect for Rengoku. You and your group can stay… for now,” he said at last, his voice almost a reluctant murmur. “But you’ll find nothing else. That will have to make do for you.” His tentacles released me, revealing the suction marks on my arm and leg.

I nodded, a small flicker of relief sparking in my chest, even as my heart still raced.

“Don’t return here with such a foolish reason. Rengoku and I have a truce but it would be irresponsible to abuse it,” he warned, his grip easing as he let me go, leaving my skin cold without his touch. “I’ll be watching. And if I sense even a hint of disrespect, I will not be so forgiving. You and your people will leave soon. I don’t wish to see you return any time soon.” He spoke coldly.

“Yes… I understand.” I finally manage to choke out.

His blue eyes glowed in the night.

"Y/N L/N," he murmured, his voice cold and unyielding, "you’d be wise to tread carefully. There are other Hashira who would not be as… forgiving, so long as you bear that mark. If Rengoku has led you to believe he has no enemies, then he’s as much of a liar as I remember."

With that, he slipped back into the waves, the dark water swallowing him until there was nothing left but silence.

I stood there, reeling. His words echoed in my mind, unsettling and sharp.

A liar? Kyojuro? No… that can’t be right. Kyojuro may be fierce, even terrifying to some, but he’s also warm, compassionate, and always so… open. Sure, he has his intense side, his possessive moments, but a liar? He’s never seemed anything but honest, at least with me. Or so I’d thought.

I glanced down at my wrist, the fresh marks from his tentacles still vivid. I had to play this off right, I was soaked, freezing, and shaken after encountering Tomioka, so it wouldn’t be hard to look convincing. I hurried back to camp.

“Tamayo! Yushiro!” I called out, rushing toward the fire where they were sleeping.

Yushiro grumbled, half-asleep, while Tamayo sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "What’s going on, Y/N?" she asked, her voice still groggy.

I knelt down in front of her, catching my breath, and held up my wrist. Tamayo’s eyes widened as she took in the marks, my drenched clothes, and my shivering frame. She reached for my hand, her smile growing with every detail.

Yushiro finally woke up, blinking in surprise as he noticed the marks on my wrist. Shock and disbelief crossed his face.

Tamayo quickly ushered me into the tent. “Come now, let’s get you warmed up and take a closer look at these!”

Inside, she helped me out of my soaked clothes and handed me a dry blanket. She lit a lantern, inspecting the marks on my wrist and leg while scribbling excitedly in her notebook.

“Did he speak to you? Why did he grab you? Was he angry?” she asked, her questions coming rapid-fire.

I explained that I’d gone for a walk because I couldn’t sleep and had wandered too close to the sea. “I think… he may have thought I was prey or something,” I added, as casually as I could manage.

Tamayo nodded, jotting down every word with satisfaction, pausing only for a few follow up questions. Seeing her so pleased was a relief. After all the times I’d come back empty handed, I’d finally managed to make her happy. That, at least, felt like a victory.

——————-

The hike back felt just as awful and exhausting as the one coming in. Our journey home took nearly as long as our initial trek, with the weight of the distance settling heavily on my shoulders. Tamayo was eager to return and report her findings, while I couldn’t shake the anticipation of finally seeing Kyojuro. I missed him, more than I cared to admit, but there were now new questions I needed answered.

When we finally reached the cabin, we were greeted by a few of the other hunters. I helped Tamayo and Yushiro unload, my mind already drifting to the promise I made to Kyojuro. Food offerings. I couldn’t come back empty handed. he’d make such a fuss if I did. And the last thing I needed was for him to get all upset and pouty.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I finished helping and excused myself to the kitchen. I carefully prepared the offerings, making sure to include all his favorites. My heart raced a little as I arranged them, the thought of him looming over every movement.

Surely he would be pleased with these. I was gone what? Around a week two weeks total? That’s quite a while, but I got his permission, so he can’t be too angry with me.

As I slipped quietly back into the woods, I glanced down at my wrist. The marks from Tomioka's tentacles had faded, but they were still visible, a subtle reminder of what had passed. Of course, Kyojuro would notice them. He had a knack for being... dramatic when it came to anything remotely concerning me. I could trip and scrape my knee, and he’d insist on us cuddling for what felt like hours, as if that alone would make everything better.

Am I complaining? Maybe a little. But, deep down, I know I shouldn’t. After all, at least he wasn’t a heartless monster.

The forest path seemed to stretch on forever as I made my way back to the den. But the moment I stepped inside, the familiar clicking began. Slowly, Kyojuro emerged from the shadows, his crimson eyes glowing in the dark, a sharp, predatory smile spreading across his face. I set down the food I was holding, and smile at him happily.

"My little human, my mate! You’ve returned!" His voice rumbled with delight, and before I could react, his tail wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me in close.

He sniffed eagerly, his nose brushing against my chest before he nuzzled into me, demanding affection. And, of course, I gave in, my fingers running through his fur as he purred loudly, tail tightening possessively around me.

"You smell like the ocean," he growled lowly, his voice thick with something primal. The intensity of his gaze never wavered as he held me in his embrace.

I could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the layers of my clothing, the undeniable presence of him filling the space around us. His scent, a mixture of fire and earth, was comforting in its own way, grounding me after the long journey. But the ocean, he couldn’t stand the trace of salt and waves that clung to me after my time with Giyu.

"You know," I murmured, my fingers still tracing the curve of his tail, "it’s not like I went swimming in the ocean. Just a little... coastal air."

His growl deepened, almost playful now, as if he didn’t quite believe me. "Coastal air, hm?" His eyes gleamed in the dim light, as though he could smell the exact essence of what had happened, and every part of him was keenly aware of it. His grip on me tightened, but not in anger, more like a quiet claim, a silent assertion that I was his, no matter where I’d been.

Kyojuro pulled back slightly, his gaze still locked on me as he gave a slow, exaggerated sniff of the air. “I can still smell him.” His voice was steady, but the tension in his tone was unmistakable.

I sighed inwardly, but I didn’t try to pull away. “Kyojuro... it’s not like that. Tomioka just—”

“Tomioka,” he interrupted, his voice turning sharper, though his hands were gentle as he cupped my face. “I see he hasn’t the common decency to not touch what not his.” His gaze shifts down to my wrist, though there was a flicker of possessiveness beneath the surface. “But you’re mine. Always.”

There it was again, that crazy intensity. That overwhelming, fierce loyalty that I both feared and craved. The way he could consume every thought, every moment, with just a glance. I tried to breathe past the lump in my throat, but the reality of his words settled over me, heavy and consuming.

“I’m yours,” I whispered, not even needing to say it to reassure him, but more to remind myself.

His sharp smile returned, his tail loosening its grip just enough to allow me to breathe fully again. “Good,” he purred, the possessiveness in his voice morphing into something deeper, more intimate. “Because I don’t share.”

Oh fuck…how did that sentence send shivers down my spine?

He leaned in, his face so close to mine, and I couldn’t help it, my hands slid over the fur on his shoulders, drawing him closer. His growl deepened as his tongue flicked over my bottom lip, his teeth grazing over the skin, sending sparks through me. And when he finally sealed our lips together, I melted into the kiss. It was fierce, possessive, overwhelming... all the things he was and more.

I had missed this, these moments of pure abandon. He knew exactly what to do to make me moan, what to make me lose myself in the moment. And by the time we broke apart, I was breathless and trembling, my core aching with need.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, the low echo in his voice was smooth and low, his tone already turning dark and filthy. "Is my mate craving something?" His voice rumbled through the air.

And fuck, I couldn't lie, i didn’t want to just give in so quickly, I wanted to pretend that I hadn't missed him this much, that I didn't want him. But I did, oh God how I did.

“Yes,” I admitted, barely above a whisper. “I want you, Kyojuro.”

He let out a low growl, a purr rumbling through his chest. “Good human,” he murmured against my neck now, his claws already moving to my pants. “You know how I feel about these obnoxious clothes you wear…. Take them off.” He didn’t wait for my answer, his mouth trailing down my neck, nipping and biting at my skin, making my heart beat fast.

"Take off your clothes now," he demanded again, his sharp claws pulled at my pants as I fumbled to untie them. "And let me see you." The command in his voice sent shivers down my body.

I did as he asked, shedding the rest of my clothes until I was completely naked in front of him. He stepped back and let out a sharp growl of approval before his clawed fingers ran up my thighs, my ass. And he finally wrapped his whole hand around my waist.

His touch burned over my skin, searing in its intensity. My breath caught as he firmly held me, pulling me closer until the heat of his cock pressed against me. The softness of his fur rubbed against me, making my skin tingle. I shivered in his arms, my pulse racing as his hands and tail explored my body. But he was too skilled, too attuned to my needs. It didn’t take long for me to find myself writhing in his grasp, aching for him.

"Please," I whispered. "Kyojuro, please—"

He stilled, and for a moment, I thought he’d just keep teasing me. Then he leaned in, nipping at my ear with a low growl.

“Look at that,” he breathed, his voice rough and thick with need. “My little human, desperate for my cock.” His tail wrapped around my thigh, lifting me up and positioning me just where he wanted. “Don’t worry, my mate, I’ll make it feel so good. I'll fill you with my seed until you're full of my scent. No more salt and ocean. Just me.” And with that, he thrust his thick cock into me roughly, making me cry out in surprise.

His girth stretched me so wide it hurt. He was merciless, holding me up and pounding me hard, my body struggling to accommodate him due to our time apart. My breasts bounced with each thrust, and the sound of my wetness echoed around the den, it was both humiliating and arousing.

"You’re so wet," he rumbled, his breath hot against my ear. "You love this, don’t you? My little human missed me." He nipped at my ear, his tongue running over the lobe. "Taking my cock. Being mine. You’ll never be full of any other’s scent. Not when you’re my mate.” His hands tightened, gripping me so hard, there would no doubt be bruises later.

He didn’t let me reply, his lips claiming mine as he fucked me. My mind blurred, my body consumed by the pleasure. He wasn’t gentle, not this time, and I loved him for it. He fucked me hard and rough, using my body for his pleasure. But he also knew every spot to hit, every spot that would send me over the edge.

“I wanted to be gentle with you,” he growled between thrusts. “But after not seeing you for so long, I just can’t hold back.”

The click of his voice vibrated against my skin.

And the orgasm, oh God, it built quick. There was no slowing it down, no stopping it, as it crested and crashed through me, leaving me screaming into the darkness. He didn’t stop fucking me though, not until I'd come multiple times on his cock.

Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore and my body trembled from exhaustion, he pulled out. His tail released its hold on me, letting me slide down to my knees, where I fell onto the soft ground, my legs weak.

He stood over me, panting softly, his cock still hard. His eyes gleamed as they roved over my body before he leaned over me and gripped my hips, forcing me onto my fours.

“I know you are tired beautiful human… but I’m afraid I’m not satisfied.” His tail wrapped around my ankle and pulled my legs apart.

I could hear his low chuckle as I tried to catch my breath. “This hole has never been used before…” I felt his tongue lick up my ass. My eyes widen and my body shivered. No way… he was not about to— “It looks so good all pink and wet.” I moaned as he lapped at my rim. “You want me here?” he asked with a chuckle.

"Kyojuro," I gasped, my breath coming short. "No...please, you can’t."

His laughter only deepened, his large hands spreading my cheeks roughly apart. “It’s not for my own pleasure. My mate needs to be fully claimed by me. You smell like ocean, so it must be done,” he said as he pressed his tongue against my rim, teasing it in a way that made me cry out and writhe in his hold.

He kept up that torture for what felt like an age. Licking my ass, his tongue sliding through my cum as he used it to lubricate my rim, sliding it in and out slowly. I squirmed and whimpered, overwhelmed, and his low growls only grew more pleased.

Then, once my rim was nice and stretched out, he finally stood over me again, his cock hovering over my ass. He pushed the tip inside of me, and I cried out, my body trying to clench down.

"It’s okay, my mate," he murmured softly, his voice gentler now. “It’ll sting a bit at first but I’ll take care of you.” His hands stroked my back gently and he slowly pushed his cock deeper inside of me.

I clenched down, trying to stop the pain, but he kept pushing. He stretched my ass out wide with his thickness, filling me so completely I felt I might burst. My whimpers and cries filled the air as I struggled to bare the sensation, even as it was edged with pleasure.

But when he was finally seated fully in my ass, my body gave into the sensation and I moaned, my muscles relaxing.

He let out a deep growl and wrapped his tail around my body, pulling me back against him as he started to move. "This feels amazing," he rasped, he purred, clicking loudly in pleasure.

I felt full and tight, every thrust making me writhe and clench down on his cock, the pleasure mingling with the pain in a way that was maddening. But I didn’t have the ability to think, not while his tail wrapped around my body, holding me in place as he fucked my ass.

He began to move faster, my moans and his growls echoing through the den now. His tail tightened around my waist and his teeth sunk into my neck. I felt him grow thicker inside of me and then I felt him fill my ass with his seed.

"Fuck! It’s so warm and wet..." he growled, his moans growing more desperate as he kept emptying his cum inside of me. The sound of it dripping out of my ass filled the den. I felt his knot expand keeping what could be contained inside of me. I tried to clench down but he held my body still as he continued to come. I moaned and wiggled in his grasp.

"You’re mine," he growled deeply. "I can’t share you with anyone."

And with that, he held me there, his cock still buried deep in my ass, until his knot finally released and he collapsed next to me on the ground. I was exhausted from his fucking, and my body ached in the most delicious way.

He pulled out of my ass, making me gasp as his cum only spilled out of me more. He wrapped me in his tail and nuzzled his face in my neck.

"Sleep little human," he growled softly. "I’ll take good care of you, always."

I felt him pick me up, carrying me to our nest. He laid me down and wrapped around me, holding me securely. This was the warmth I had missed. Despite my body being so sore and exhausted, I was completely blissed out.

I fell into a deep sleep knowing I was safe, knowing I was loved, and knowing he’d always protect me. And the ocean would no longer be a problem. Not after Kyojuro had me all to himself. I smiled, snuggling in his arms.

————————

When I finally awoke, it was to him licking my neck. "Good morning, my little human," he purred. His claws slid through my hair.

I rub my eyes opening them slightly to adjust to the light. The sun had risen, and its warmth filtered through the trees.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

"Yeah," I answered, still groggy. "How long have you been awake?"

"A while," he chuckled. "I wanted to make sure you got enough rest." I sighed, feeling relaxed and content. But as I shifted, a dull ache throbbed through me.

"Your body will be sore for a few days," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You took me so well. It makes me proud to have such a good mate."

"Thanks," I mumbled. "I guess."

"Are you hungry?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, a little," I said, stretching.

Kyojuro’s eyes gleamed, his tail curling around my leg possessively as he shifted to sit up, still keeping me close. “Good. I’ll catch us something fresh,” he said, the hint of a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “But don’t you move a muscle. Rest those sore limbs. I’ll be back in no time.”

I watched him rise, his form lit by the morning sun as he stretched, flexing his muscles with a lazy confidence. “What about the offerings I made you, we could just eat those.” I suggest.

He chuckled lowly and shook his head. “As much as I love you my mate. You made those offerings for me. And if there’s one thing I won’t share with you… it’s the gifts you bring me.” He smiled playfully his tail wagging almost like a dog.

He gave me one last intense look, as if memorizing every detail before he turned, disappearing into the woods.

Left alone, I sank back into our nest, feeling the lingering warmth he’d left behind. My body was sore, as he’d warned, but there was something comforting about the ache, a reminder of just how much we’d missed each other. The birds were chirping, and a soft breeze drifted through the trees, rustling the leaves. I closed my eyes, letting myself be lulled by the forest’s quiet rhythm, still wrapped in the warmth of last night’s memory.

Before long, the sound of Kyojuro’s footsteps drew closer. I opened my eyes as he emerged from the shadows, carrying fresh game in one hand, his eyes bright and eager. He set it down, then moved over to sit beside me again, his tail flicking with satisfaction. “Told you I’d be quick,” he said, as he leaned in to brush a stray strand of hair from my face.

“Impressive,” I murmured, smiling up at him.

He tilted his head, amber eyes softening as he took me in. “Impressive is having you back in my arms,” he murmured, voice lowering. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you here.”

The intensity in his gaze sent a familiar flutter through me, that possessive spark still so alive and undeniable. And as I reached out to touch his hand, I knew the same warmth would pull me back, over and over again.

Kyojuro held both my hands in one of his as if they were the most fragile things ever, a completely contrast to the night before. He raised my hands to his face nuzzling against him, brushing a warm kiss across my knuckles. “I want you to feel safe, always,” he murmured, the conviction in his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I squeezed his hand, taking in the steady heat of him, grounding me in the moment. “With you, I do,” I whispered. “It’s like… nothing could ever hurt me here.”

He smiled, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “That’s how it should be.” Then, with a playful tilt of his head, he added, “But I might need to remind you every now and then, just to be sure.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Always so protective.”

“Of course,” he replied, a low rumble in his chest. “I’d fight the every monster in the world if they tried to take you from me.” He leaned in closer, his gaze unyielding. “You’re mine.”

The intensity in his voice stirred something deep inside me, a thrill mixed with reassurance. “And you’re mine,” I replied, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the strength in his muscles as he leaned into my touch. “No one else, nothing else matters.”

His eyes softened, the fire in them shifting to something warm and tender. “Good,” he whispered, then bent down to press a lingering kiss against my forehead. “Now,” he said, his voice lighter, “how about some food? You’ll need your strength if we’re going to spend the day together.”

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, feeling a renewed warmth spreading through me.

I prepared the food over a small fire with practiced ease, never straying too far, as if I couldn’t bear to be away. And as we shared the meal, surrounded by the gentle sounds of the forest, I felt something settle within me—a deep, unshakeable peace, knowing I was exactly where I was meant to be.

The first few days back at Kyojuro’s den going back and forth like I usually did. The days were a whirlwind of passion and comfort. We spent hours exploring each other’s bodies, the weeks of separation making every touch feel new and electric. His fur was just as soft as I remembered, his eyes just as intense. And the way he’d hold me at night, his tail coiled around me, made me feel like I was home.

I knew I had to talk to him about Tomioka. I wanted to know the history between them. Tomioka said kyojuro had enemies, that he was a liar. And that part genuinely unsettled me. No matter how hard I tried to push it down.

The thought gnawed at me, even in moments of warmth and ease, like a shadow lurking just beyond the firelight. I had questions, and I needed answers.

One evening, as we lay entwined in our nest, his breathing slow and steady beside me, I finally gathered the courage. I shifted slightly, just enough for him to sense I was awake. He glanced down, eyes gleaming with that familiar, protective warmth, his arms wrapping tighter around me.

“Kyojuro,” I began, voice barely above a whisper. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” he murmured, his expression softening. “Anything, my mate.”

I hesitated, searching his gaze, feeling the weight of the words I was about to say. “When I was with Tomioka… he mentioned things. He spoke of enemies you might have. That there were… conflicts, even lies.” My voice faltered as his eyes grew darker, the warmth in them receding.

He held my gaze for a long, tense moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, a sound filled with something I couldn’t quite name, was it regret? Resignation? “Giyu…” He spoke his name like a wound he was trying to close. “He’s not wrong, not entirely. There are… old tensions among us, unspoken alliances and rivalries. The Hashira, we each walk our own path. Sometimes, those paths cross in ways that are less than ideal.”

I felt a chill, like a draft sneaking into the den. “And what about the lies?” I asked, unable to mask the tremor in my voice.

He closed his eyes briefly, his clawed thumb brushing my cheek in slow, soothing strokes. “There are things I’ve kept from you, yes, but not out of deception. I wanted you to feel safe here with me, untouched by the struggles I face.”

“But I need to know, Kyojuro,” I pressed, the urgency rising in my voice. “If there are things out there that could put us in danger, if there are people who’d come after you, don’t I deserve to know?”

A spark of pain flickered in his eyes, and he nodded, a reluctant acceptance settling over him. “Yes. You deserve to know everything.” He paused, his voice taking on a new gravity. “There are other Hashira who don’t agree with my… my methods, or the way I’ve have chosen to live my life. They see it as a corrupt, and wrong. Giyu is cautious, wary. He wanted to warn you, perhaps hoping you’d run away.”

The words struck me harder than I’d expected, and I found myself reaching for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m not running away. No matter what.”

He smiled, the slightest edge of vulnerability showing in his fierce gaze. “I know you wouldn’t.” His clawed fingers traced my palm, lingering there, as if trying to reassure himself of my presence. “But if Giyu or anyone else threatens what we have… I won’t hesitate to protect you. Even if it means facing my past and the ones I once called allies.”

We fell silent, the weight of his confession settling between us, mingling with the night air. It was a silence heavy with truth, with the understanding that we were bound by forces beyond ourselves.

As he pulled me close, nuzzling against the top of my head, I felt the strength of his vow in every touch, every breath. And while uncertainty lingered, so too did an unbreakable trust, a quiet promise that, no matter the challenges, we would face them together.

The night deepened, a stillness settling over us that carried both comfort and an edge of unease. Kyojuro’s warmth enveloped me, his breath steady against my skin, and for a while, we lay in silence, just listening to each other’s heartbeats. I wanted to let go of my worries, to lose myself in the safety of his embrace, but Tomioka’s words still echoed in my mind, a reminder that nothing was as simple as I’d once thought.

As if sensing my thoughts, Kyojuro tightened his hold, his hand holding my back. “There’s more to it than even Giyu understands,” he murmured, breaking the silence. “I’ve had to make choices that others wouldn’t, things the other Hashira see as betrayals.”

“Betrayals?” I whispered, unsure if I wanted to know more, yet unable to stop myself from asking.

He nodded, a somber look in his eyes. “Not everyone agrees with the way I protect or take what’s mine. To them, I’m reckless. They don’t understand… that love isn’t a weakness. That it gives me strength.” His eyes softened, that fierce possessiveness tempered by a tenderness that left me breathless. “And that strength is why I’ll always protect you, even if it costs me.”

I reached up, my hand finding his cheek, and he leaned into my touch, his eyes slipping closed. “I don’t want you to give up everything just for me,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want you to be alone in this.”

“You’re here,” he replied, his voice a low rumble, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips. “That’s all I need.”

For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered, that the forest around us, the Hashira, the threats they posed, all of it faded in the face of what we shared. But even as I held him close, I knew there were things left unsaid, truths lurking beneath the surface.

We spent the next few days in a fragile peace, an unspoken understanding passing between us. Kyojuro was attentive, almost more than usual, as if determined to make up for the tension between us. He brought me fresh food every morning, wrapped me in his warmth each night, and filled the hours between with quiet affection. His hands were always on me, grounding, reassuring, and in those moments, I almost forgot the dark clouds that loomed over us.

But the shadow of Tomioka’s warning still hung in the background, a persistent reminder that there were others out there who didn’t share Kyojuro’s loyalty. And one evening, as I watched him prowl the edge of the den, his gaze sharp and alert, I felt a pang of worry I couldn’t ignore.

“Kyojuro,” I called softly, breaking him from his vigil. He looked over, his eyes immediately softening as they met mine.

“Yes, my mate?” he asked, crossing the distance to sit beside me. His tail curled around me instinctively, pulling me close.

“Do you think… they’ll ever try to hurt us?” I asked, forcing the words out even though my heart clenched at the thought.

His jaw tightened, a shadow flickering across his expression. “I’d be lying if I said some of them wouldn’t try,” he admitted. “But they’d be fools to underestimate what I’d do to keep you safe.” His voice was low, deadly, a reminder of the strength that lay just beneath his warmth.

I nodded, finding comfort in his resolve, but a small part of me couldn’t shake the fear. “And if they come… will you tell me?” I asked, my gaze steady, my voice as firm as I could make it.

He hesitated, his fingers brushing over mine. “I’ll never leave you in the dark again,” he promised, his eyes searching mine with a sincerity that took my breath away. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

As he pulled me into his arms, his words settled over me like a shield, a reminder that, no matter the dangers, we had each other. And though uncertainty lingered, for the first time, I felt a quiet sense of resolve, a strength that mirrored his, a fierce determination to stand by his side, no matter what.

In that moment, I knew that whatever lay ahead, I was ready.

————————————————————

A/N: I want to say thank you everyone for being so patient with me for this chapter. I haven’t been able to go through all of my in box but the messages and DMs have been nothing but supportive. I’ve never been so grateful to be apart of such a kind and loving community, thank you all so much. Unfortunately life happens and it’s hard to bounce back and continue projects like these but it helps when everyone is so kind.

I also I want to make it clear this blog is a safe space and no hate or cruelty is tolerated, I love all of you. Stay safe and know you are loved and supported🫶🏻

—————————————————————

Tags: @im-0-addicted-0-to-0tea @emmenic726 @fandomenbylover @staygoldsquatchling02 @nicora04

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

wednesday, seok matthew— phys. ed

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ wednesday summary: it's hump day... *ahem*. unfortunately you're being forced to play contact sports under the leadership of team captain matthew seok. no matter how many times he's made a fool of you in front of your whole gym class, it never gets old for him. oh shit. uh, (y/n)? you might wanna duck...

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. small injury/blood warning, no graphic descriptions. bullying. red-pilled, muscle pig soccer player matthew. please rest up for thursday. smut in gn and fem versions are slightly different due to logistics/circumstance. also i KNOW it's called football. chill. we can't all be from a cool country.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★☆(4.0)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: spanking (reader receiving), petting (reader receiving), pussyjob (google it if unfamiliar), slight dub-con but reader's honestly really fast to come around to this one lol, girthy!matthew, bullying/misogynistic.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you stand in a straight line with your other classmates, facing the soccer field and your physical education teacher. eyes glued to your sneakers, you’re completely lost in thought. could anyone blame you after the past couple of days you’d had? 

unable to give hao an answer to his question yesterday, he’d simply laughed at you and left you in the orchestra storage closet to redress yourself in shame. you’d thought monday was bad, but tuesday was certainly your lowest point since starting university.

you’d made a vow that evening that something like this would never happen again...

right after you’d gotten off to the memory of it one last time.

your gym teacher, coach yang, blows his whistle to direct the class’s attention towards him. while you’re able to keep your eyes trained on him, your brain is another thing. to be fair, it’s not like you paid much attention during your wednesday afternoon gym class even without such a heavy distraction weighing on you.

signing up for a physical education class had been the last thing you’d planned on doing while at university, but after a small hiccup with class registration left you shut out of all of your best alternatives, you’d had to settle on the last course available: physical education studies— team sports.

though you didn’t mind exercising and even found it fairly enjoyable when on your own and blasting your favorite music, you’d thought you’d be finished with the stress and chaos of team sports when you finished your high school requirements. you understood each sport enough, but could never seem to put that understanding into practical use.

lightly jogging back and forth and pretending to look engaged until class was over had become your signature specialty. except when an object started speeding towards your face.

no matter how many times a gym coach practiced catching a ball with you, the newly implanted knowledge would always just dissipate moments later. when the recreational game would start and a ball came flying at you...

you’d just duck.

“i’ll take ducky,” a voice suddenly calls. your eyes dart to find the source of the dreaded nickname, unsurprised at the culprit they land on. but why had he just called you?

you blink at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “wh-... what?”

“were you paying attention, (y/n)-sshi?” coach yang asks, shaking his head and looking back at his clipboard. “can you explain it again, matthew-sshi?”

“oh, i’d be happy to,” matthew replies with a smirk. “we’re picking teams for soccer drills. wonhee and i are team captains.”

this unfortunately doesn’t answer any of your questions. if matthew was picking teammates of his own free will, why would he call your name?

“and you... want me?” you stumble, shaking your head when you realize how your question sounds. “on—... on your te—?”

“yeah, ducky,” matthew affirms, brow raised in a challenge as he smiles at you. “i do.”

you feel your palms begin to sweat as matthew’s fox eyes stare you down. this had to be connected to jiwoong and hao. you just weren’t sure how yet.

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang barks, pointing to the grass next to matthew. “let’s get moving.”

taking a deep breath, you walk over with your head down and stand behind your new team captain. he turns over his shoulder and winks at you.

oh help.

--------

after about an hour or so of various training drills, you’re surprised to find yourself still in one piece. but so far, matthew had treated you like he was treating everyone else on your team: which is to say, not great but... tolerable.

you’d almost let yourself settle into the feeling of just being one of matthew’s undervalued teammates when a harsh blow of a whistle jolts you from your peace.

“listen up,” coach yang calls from the bleachers. “we’ll be moving on to shooting drills now.”

matthew’s eyes find yours, brow piquing as he smirks. “will we need a goalie, coach?”

fuuuuuck no.

“yep, every team should choose a goalie,” coach yang confirms, leaning back even further on the bleacher behind him. 

matthew walks toward you, smile growing wider with every step. you shake your head, eyes pleading with him to let you live. because that’s what putting you inside a goal was: attempted murder.

“please, matt,” you whisper, breathing getting shakier as he closes the distance. “please, don’t do this.”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes you happily, announcing to the team, “lucky for us, we’ve got a volunteer right here! thanks for helping out the team, ducky.”

matthew slaps your back, encouraging you to take your place in the goal. 

“uh, hyung? should (y/n) really—?” a boy from your calculus class tries to save you, but it’s no use.

“yeah,” matthew interrupts, nostrils flared. “ducky really should. in five seconds or less.”

you dart off down the field toward the goal— which reaching in five seconds would be impossible, mind you— scrambling to make it in time before matthew makes an even bigger fool out of you.

when you finally reach the goal, you turn around and ready yourself for the drill to start. only, unbeknownst to you, the drill has already started.

and a soccer ball is hurtling through the air towards your head at 70 mph. 

you duck.

it’s who you are.

the ball flies so fast past you, hitting the back of the net and bouncing to the ground. you sigh in relief after narrowly avoiding a collision. you’re so nervous, you suddenly feel a bit of sweat forming at your temples. you reach up and wipe it with your forearm, bringing it back down to see that the liquid from your forehead is not clear...

it’s red.

“(y/n)-sshi!” coach yang yells, laboredly getting up from his reclined position on the bleachers. “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

he (lightly) jogs over to where you’re sat in the goal, bending down to examine the injury. holding up a finger, he has you follow it back and forth and up and down until he shrugs.

“pretty sure the ball just grazed your skin,” coach yang deduces, holding out a hand for you and helping you to your feet. “who kicked that ball?”

all eyes dart to matthew. he nudges the grass with his sneaker shamefully. “i’m sorry, coach. she looked ready.”

“which part of her looked ready to you? the back of her head?” coach yang asks, rolling his eyes. maybe he sees more from his perch than he lets on. “take (y/n) to my office and get her fixed up.”

“but—,” you start to protest; the last thing you want is to be alone with matthew after all this.

“now,” coach yang asserts, throwing matthew his key ring. you start to walk back towards the gymnasium, wiping your forehead as it begins to feel damp again.

“yes, coach,” matthew agrees before falling into step beside you. he doesn’t speak, just fidgets with the key ring in his hand until you step through the door to the gym and find coach yang’s office.

he unlocks the door, holding it open for you. you step inside, looking around at all of the different sports equipment and trophies littering your teacher’s office. you jump as the door slams shut behind you and he notices your unintentional display of fear.

“jesus. am i gonna have to change your nickname to jumpy?” matthew snorts at his own joke before walking over to the cabinet beside coach yang’s desk. when he realizes you haven’t followed him, he turns around. “seriously, what’s your problem?”

“what’s—... what’s my problem?” you repeat, blinking back at him unbelievingly. “you kicked a ball at my head on purpose!”

“aw c’mon, ducky,” he says with a cute smile, taking a step towards you. “not like it’s the first time. maybe something else is on your mind?”

your body stiffens, at the taunting look in his eyes. “if you so much as put a hand on me, i’ll—.”

“me? touch you?” matthew interjects incredulously, tongue in his cheek as he grins. “the star of the soccer team has bigger dreams than putting his hands on you.”

the tiniest bit of confidence flickers in you as you think of the perfect reply. “th-thought hanbin was the star of the soccer team...”

“hanbin hyung is NOT—...” matthew starts to rage before seeing your expression. he exhales annoyedly and pats coach yang’s desk, “just shut up and sit down.”

“on—... on the desk?” you ask with frown. “there’s a chair right here.”

“easier to see with you closer to the light,” he answers dismissively, patting the desk again. 

you oblige warily, hopping up onto the open space on coach yang’s desk— feet dangling slightly off the ground. the position feels a little too vulnerable and you eagerly await for this all to be over.

“that’s what i hate about you intellectual types,” matthew says, bending down to open the filing cabinet drawer to the right of coach yang’s desk. he pulls out a small first aid kit, lifting the white box onto the desk beside you. “who the hell doesn’t know how to catch a ball? you think you’re so fucking smart, but you have no clue when it comes to the real world.”

as matthew opens the first aid kit and pulls out an alcohol wipe, he tears the packaging open with his teeth— his biceps flexing as he throws the wrapper into the waste bin by your coach’s desk. 

“then again, i’ve heard a rumor or two that you might know more than you let on,” he says with a soft smirk, gently dabbing the wipe to your bleeding temple. you flinch slightly at the sting. “i just find it hard to believe, ya know? honestly i’m kind of surprised that you have sexual impulses at all.”

matthew laughs to himself as he pulls out an anti-infection topical, twisting the cap off with his fingers. he lifts a q-tip from the kit and covers one side in the topical serum.

“was convinced that was the case after i tried to bag you last year,” he says, dragging the q-tip across your now-clean cut. “only to find out this week that you apparently do wanna spread your legs. just not for me.”

“you... you what!?” you shout, matthew putting the index finger of his free hand to your lips to keep you quiet. you glare at him until he finally removes it. “didn’t you just say you had more important people to—?”

“and i do. but ducky, think about the story of it all. the nerdy little prude letting the jock make a mess of her for the first time behind the bleachers. scared. helpless... euphoric,” matthew muses far too casually, tossing the q-tip in the trash and pulling out a bandage from the kit. he opens the wrapper, scrunching the paper up and laying it down on the desk next to you. “now that i know you’re... tainted... i’m just not as eager.”

“tainted?” you repeat angrily, shifting a bit on the desk. this is exactly the kind of shit you’d expect from matthew. “you really are nothing but a protein-addicted, misogynistic pig.”

he nods slowly, humming as he places the small, clear bandage on your cut— veiny hands delicately smoothing out the edges. “but you like that, don’t you, ducky?”

“no,” you deny quickly with a frown, head tilting slightly in confusion as matthew’s fingers linger at your temple. “i d-don’t...”

“mm, nice try. but this cute little wet spot right here says otherwise,” he retorts, placing a hand on each of your knees and pulling your legs apart with ease so he can get a better look at your clothed center. “i think you more than like it, actually.”

matthew starts to slide his hands up your thighs, thumbs grazing the insides as your cheeks flush. not again.

“two days in a row and you still want more?” he whispers, squeezing each of your thighs in his palms. “what? hyungs couldn’t satisfy you?”

you find yourself shaking your head involuntarily, matthew’s eyes lighting up with this news.

“can i quote you on that?” he asks with a grin, fingers on his right hand now brushing against your still-covered heat. “jiwoong hyung said you like this.”

he applies a little more pressure and, though you try to steady your breathing, a little whimper escapes as he finds your clit. 

“and hao hyung said you like surprises,” matthew says, looking up at you with lidded eyes— the tiny mole above his cheek visible in the fluorescent school light. if you didn’t know any better, you would swear he was about to kiss you. but instead, he takes a step back and folds his arms across his chest. “you’re all fixed. get up.”

luckily, you stop the pout from reaching your lips, sighing as you hop off of coach yang’s desk and onto the tile floor.

“oh, can you grab the bandaid wrapper?” he asks, putting the first aid kit back in the cabinet drawer. you turn around, looking for the paper wrapper and spotting it on the desk. 

you bend over slightly to reach it, yelping in pain when a harsh smack suddenly comes down across your ass. you fall slightly onto the top of the desk, chest flush against the wood and short-shorts riding up your thighs.

“were you surprised enough?” matthew teases, hands pushing at the seam of your shorts to expose more of you to him. “cause i’d really like you to let me fuck you now.”

“i’m—... i s-said i wasn’t gonna let something like this happen again,” you reply, shaking your head. couldn’t you just use your brain for once this week? 

“aw, ducky. that’s really fucking pathetic,” he coos patronizingly, hooking his fingers around the crotch of your shorts and panties and pushing them to the side. “making me so hard.”

“matthew, i can’t—,” you whimper, resolve fading fast as another sickening smack ripples across your ass cheek. “oh my god.”

you feel something start to rub against your dripping folds; it’s warm, veiny and thick. you hear a low, throaty moan escape the boy behind you, his hands gripping into your hips on either side. 

“so fucking wet for me, hm?” matthew rasps and, as you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him, he bites his lip. “bet you’ve thought about this for a long time.”

of course he’s full of himself even now. you don’t care much at this moment though. the first part of his statement is embarrassingly correct: you need him right now. arrogance and all.

you buck your hips back, wanting more friction. though he smacks your ass again in punishment, he can’t hide his hungry panting.

“fuuuck,” he breathes, grinding his length against your slit more passionately. with each rut, the tip of his cock hits your clit— rendering you a moaning mess. “easy. fucking told them it’d be easy.”

your high is steadily approaching as the abuse continues on your swollen clit, ears only filled with lust as you block out his mumbling. “matthew, please. i think... ‘m gonna—.”

“let go for me, little duck,” he coaxes, rhythm starting to falter. “yeah? then i can fuck y—.”

“matthew-sshi!?” coach yang’s voice suddenly bellows through the locked office door. “open this door right NOW!”

“no fucking way,” matthew whines loudly as you scramble off of your teacher’s desk— shifting the crotch of your shorts back into place as he slams a fist down on the filing cabinet next to you. “we weren’t finished! i thought i was gonna be the one to—.”

“one... two...” coach yang starts counting down, causing matthew to run to the door and open it immediately. such a petulant child, you think as you ignore the feeling of your arousal starting to drip down your thigh.

“are you kidding me!? this is the third person i’ve caught you doing this with in here this semester alone, matthew-sshi,” coach yang reprimands as soon as he steps inside, throwing his clipboard down on the floor and removing his baseball cap. 

was matthew about to face serious consequences for this? i mean, he did purposely injure you as a ruse to have sex with him... probably. 

“but you’re the team’s best centre-back. you’ve gotta support hanbin out there,” coach yang says with a sigh, matthew subtly rolling his eyes at the mention of his superior hyung. “i just can’t bench you for saturday’s game.”

“oh my god,” you whisper, eyes wide at matthew’s ability to evade punishment. it’s not just infuriating: it’s impressive.

“thank you coach,” matthew says, suddenly turning on that cute charm like the gumiho he must truly be. “i won’t let you down.”

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang calls, turning to look at you. “you’ll be cleaning soccer balls after every class until the end of the unit.”

“WHAT!?” you screech in shock. you’ve never received so much as a disciplinary warning in your entire academic career. “but—... but—.”

“you can clean the tennis balls next unit too, if you like,” he says, picking up his clipboard from off the ground and replacing his baseball cap onto his head. “and stop with the ducking, will you? i don’t need a lawsuit on my hands.”

you nod, your entire face burning as your coach looks anywhere but at you. you can’t say you blame him.

“c’mon, matthew-sshi. team meeting in fifteen minutes,” he instructs, walking out of his office. matthew starts to follow, but turns around in the doorway.

“meet me after practice, we can—,” he whispers, until a hand latches around the collar of his shirt and pulls him away, leaving you all on your lonesome in the small gymnasium office.

so... wednesday hadn’t gone how you’d hoped. no use crying over spilled milk (or spilled blood). thursday would be a better day.

but maybe purchasing a chastity belt wouldn’t be such a bad idea in the mean time.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: spanking (reader receiving), heavy petting/stroking (reader receiving), assjob/intergluteal (google it if unfamiliar, it's not anal; no anal penetration), slight dub-con but reader's honestly really fast to come around to this one lol, girthy!matthew, bullying.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you stand in a straight line with your other classmates, facing the soccer field and your gym teacher. eyes glued to your sneakers, you’re completely lost in thought. could anyone blame you after the past couple of days you’d had? 

unable to give hao an answer to his question yesterday, he’d simply laughed at you and left you in the orchestra storage closet to redress yourself in shame. you’d thought monday was bad, but tuesday was certainly your lowest point since starting university.

you’d made a vow that evening that something like this would never happen again...

right after you’d gotten off to the memory of it one last time.

your gym teacher, coach yang, blows his whistle to direct the class’s attention towards him. while you’re able to keep your eyes trained on him, your brain is another thing. to be fair, it’s not like you paid much attention during your wednesday afternoon gym class  even without such a heavy distraction weighing on you.

signing up for a physical education class had been the last thing you’d planned on doing while at university, but after a small hiccup with class registration left you shut out of all of your best alternatives, you’d had to settle on the last course available: physical education studies— team sports.

though you didn’t mind exercising and even found it fairly enjoyable when on your own and blasting your favorite music, you’d thought you’d be finished with the stress and chaos of team sports when you finished your high school requirements. you understood each sport enough, but could never seem to put that understanding into practical use.

lightly jogging back and forth and pretending to look engaged until class was over had become your signature specialty. except when an object started speeding towards your face.

no matter how many times a gym coach practiced catching a ball with you, the newly implanted knowledge would always just dissipate moments later. when the recreational game would start and a ball came flying at you...

you’d just duck.

“i’ll take ducky,” a voice suddenly calls. your eyes dart to find the source of the dreaded nickname, unsurprised at the culprit they land on. but why had he just called you?

you blink at the muscular boy, brow furrowed in confusion. “wh-... what?”

“were you paying attention, (y/n)-sshi?” coach yang asks, shaking his head and looking back at his clipboard. “can you explain it again, matthew-sshi?”

“oh, i’d be happy to,” matthew replies with a smirk. “we’re picking teams for soccer drills. wonhee and i are team captains.”

this unfortunately doesn’t answer any of your questions. if matthew was picking teammates of his own free will, why would he call your name?

“and you... want me?” you stumble, shaking your head when you realize how your question sounds. “on—... on your te—?”

“yeah, ducky,” matthew affirms, brow raised in a challenge as he smiles at you. “i do.”

you feel your palms begin to sweat as matthew’s fox eyes stare you down. this had to be connected to jiwoong and hao. you just weren’t sure how yet.

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang barks, pointing to the grass next to matthew. “let’s get moving.”

taking a deep breath, you walk over with your head down and stand behind your new team captain. he turns over his shoulder and winks at you.

oh help.

--------

after about an hour or so of various training drills, you’re surprised to find yourself still in one piece. but so far, matthew had treated you like he was treating everyone else on your team: which is to say, not great but... tolerable.

you’d almost let yourself settle into the feeling of just being one of matthew’s undervalued teammates when a harsh blow of a whistle jolts you from your peace.

“listen up,” coach yang calls from the bleachers. “we’ll be moving on to shooting drills now.”

matthew’s eyes find yours, brow piquing as he smirks. “will we need a goalie, coach?”

fuuuuuck no.

“yep, every team should choose a goalie,” coach yang confirms, leaning back even further on the bleacher behind him. 

matthew walks toward you, smile growing wider with every step. you shake your head, eyes pleading with him to let you live. because that’s what putting you inside a goal was: attempted murder.

“please, matt,” you whisper, breathing getting shakier as he closes the distance. “please, don’t do this.”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes you happily, announcing, “lucky for us, we’ve got a volunteer right here! thanks for helping out the team, ducky.”

matthew slaps your back, encouraging you to take your place in the goal. 

“uh, hyung? should (y/n) really—?” a boy from your calculus class tries to save you, but it’s no use.

“yeah,” matthew interrupts, nostrils flared. “ducky really should. in five seconds or less.”

you dart off down the field toward the goal— which reaching in five seconds would be impossible, mind you— scrambling to make it in time before matthew makes an even bigger fool out of you.

when you finally reach the goal, you turn around and ready yourself for the drill to start. only, unbeknownst to you, the drill has already started.

and a soccer ball is hurtling through the air towards your head at 70 mph. 

you duck.

it’s just who you are.

the ball flies so fast past you, hitting the back of the net and bouncing to the ground. you sigh in relief after narrowly avoiding a collision. you’re so nervous, you suddenly feel a bit of sweat forming at your temples. you reach up and wipe it with your forearm, bringing it back down to see that the liquid from your forehead is not clear...

it’s red.

“(y/n)-sshi!” coach yang yells, laboredly getting up from his reclined position on the bleachers. “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

he (lightly) jogs over to where you’re sat in the goal, bending down to examine the injury. holding up a finger, he has you follow it back and forth and up and down until he shrugs.

“pretty sure the ball just grazed your skin,” coach yang deduces, holding out a hand for you and helping you to your feet. “who kicked that ball?”

all eyes dart to matthew. he nudges the grass with his sneaker shamefully. “i’m sorry, coach. (y/n) looked ready.”

“which part looked ready to you? the back of the head?” coach yang asks, rolling his eyes. maybe he sees more from his perch than he lets on. “go to my office and get (y/n) fixed up.”

“but—,” you start to protest; the last thing you want is to be alone with matthew after all this.

“now,” coach yang asserts, throwing matthew his key ring. you start to walk back towards the gymnasium, wiping your forehead as it begins to feel damp again.

“yes, coach,” matthew agrees before falling into step beside you. he doesn’t speak, just fidgets with the key ring in his hand until you step through the door to the gym and find coach yang’s office.

he unlocks the door, holding it open for you. you step inside, looking around at all of the different sports equipment and trophies littering your teacher’s office. you jump as the door slams shut behind you and he notices your unintentional display of fear.

“jesus. am i gonna have to change your nickname to jumpy?” matthew snorts at his own joke before walking over to the cabinet beside coach yang’s desk. when he realizes you haven’t followed him, he turns around. “seriously, what’s your problem?”

“what’s—... what’s my problem?” you repeat, blinking back at him unbelievingly. “you kicked a ball at my head on purpose!”

“aw c’mon, ducky,” he says with a cute smile, taking a step towards you. “not like it’s the first time. maybe something else is on your mind?”

your body stiffens, at the taunting look in his eyes. “if you so much as put a hand on me, i’ll—.”

“me? touch you?” matthew interjects incredulously, tongue in his cheek as he grins. “the star of the soccer team has bigger dreams than putting his hands on you.”

the tiniest bit of confidence flickers in you as you think of the perfect reply. “th-thought hanbin was the star of the soccer team...”

“hanbin hyung is NOT—...” matthew starts to rage before seeing your expression. he exhales annoyedly and pats coach yang’s desk, “just shut up and sit down.”

“on—... on the desk?” you ask with frown. “there’s a chair right here.”

“easier to see with you closer to the light,” he answers dismissively, patting the desk again. 

you oblige warily, hopping up onto the open space on coach yang’s desk— feet dangling slightly off the ground. the position feels a little too vulnerable and you eagerly await for this all to be over.

“that’s what i hate about you intellectual types,” matthew says, bending down to open the filing cabinet drawer to the right of coach yang’s desk. he pulls out a small first aid kit, lifting the white box onto the desk beside you. “who the hell doesn’t know how to catch a ball? you think you’re so fucking smart, but you have no clue when it comes to the real world.”

as matthew opens the first aid kit and pulls out an alcohol wipe, he tears the packaging open with his teeth— his biceps flexing as he throws the wrapper into the waste bin by your coach’s desk. 

“then again, i’ve heard a rumor or two that you might know more than you let on,” he says with a soft smirk, gently dabbing the wipe to your bleeding temple. you flinch slightly at the sting. “i just find it hard to believe, ya know? honestly i’m kind of surprised that you have sexual impulses at all.”

matthew laughs to himself as he pulls out an anti-infection topical, twisting the cap off with his fingers. he lifts a q-tip from the kit and covers one side in the topical serum.

“was convinced that was the case after i tried to bag you last year,” he says, dragging the q-tip across your now-clean cut. “only to find out this week that you apparently do want dick. just not mine.”

“you... you what!?” you shout, matthew putting the index finger of his free hand to your lips to keep you quiet. you glare at him until he finally removes it. “didn’t you just say you had more important people to—?”

“and i do. but, to be honest, ducky, i couldn’t help but think about the story of it all. the nerdy little prude letting the jock make a mess of you for the first time behind the bleachers. scared. helpless... euphoric,” matthew muses far too casually, tossing the q-tip in the trash and pulling out a bandage from the kit. he opens the wrapper, scrunching the paper up and laying it down on the desk next to you. “now that i know you’re... tainted... i’m just not as eager.”

“tainted?” you repeat angrily, shifting a bit on the desk. this is exactly the kind of shit you’d expect from matthew. “you really are nothing but a protein-addicted, red-pilled pig.”

he nods slowly, humming as he places the small, clear bandage on your cut— veiny hands delicately smoothing out the edges. “but you like that, don’t you, ducky?”

“no,” you deny quickly with a frown, head tilting slightly in confusion as matthew’s fingers linger at your temple. “i d-don’t.”

“mm, nice try. but this cute little wet spot right here says otherwise,” he retorts, placing a hand on each of your knees and pulling your legs apart with ease so he can get a better look at your clothed center. “i think you more than like it, actually.”

matthew starts to slide his hands up your thighs, thumbs grazing the insides as your cheeks flush. not again.

“two days in a row and you still want more?” he whispers, squeezing each of your thighs in his palms. “what? hyungs couldn’t satisfy you?”

you find yourself shaking your head involuntarily, matthew’s eyes lighting up with this news.

“can i quote you on that?” he asks with a grin, fingers on his right hand now brushing against your still-covered heat. “jiwoong hyung said you like this.”

he applies a little more pressure and, though you try to steady your breathing, a little whimper escapes as he finds your most sensitive part. 

“and hao hyung said you like surprises,” matthew says, looking up at you with lidded eyes— the tiny mole above his cheek visible in the fluorescent school light. if you didn’t know any better, you would swear he was about to kiss you. but instead, he takes a step back and folds his arms across his chest. “you’re all fixed. get up.”

luckily, you stop the pout from reaching your lips, sighing as you hop off of coach yang’s desk and onto the tile floor.

“oh, can you grab the bandaid wrapper?” he asks, putting the first aid kit back in the cabinet drawer. you turn around, looking for the paper wrapper and spotting it on the desk. 

you bend over slightly to reach it, yelping in pain when a harsh smack suddenly comes down across your ass. you fall slightly onto the top of the desk, chest flush against the wood and short gym shorts riding up your thighs.

“were you surprised enough?” matthew teases, hands pulling at the seam of your shorts to expose more of you to him. “cause i’d really like you to let me fuck you now.”

“i’m—... i s-said i wasn’t gonna let something like this happen again,” you reply, shaking your head. couldn’t you just use your brain for once this week? 

“aw, ducky. that’s really fucking pathetic,” he coos patronizingly, hooking his fingers around the crotch of your shorts and underwear and pushing them to the side. “making me so hard.”

“matthew, i can’t—,” you whimper, resolve fading fast as another sickening smack ripples across your ass cheek. “oh my god.”

you feel something start to rub lightly in between your cheeks; it’s warm, veiny and thick. you hear a low, throaty moan escape the boy behind you, his hands gripping into your hips on either side. 

“so fucking ready for me, hm?” matthew rasps and, as you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him, he bites his lip. “bet you’ve thought about this for a long time.”

of course he’s full of himself even now. you don’t care much at this moment though. the first part of his statement is embarrassingly correct: you need him right now. arrogance and all.

you buck your hips back, demanding more. though he smacks your ass again in punishment, he can’t hide his hungry panting as he reaches his hand around to start working at your aching core.

“fuuuck,” he breathes, grinding his length against you more passionately. with each shallow rut, both the tip of his cock and his meaty fingers stimulate the arousal between your thighs even more— rendering you a moaning mess. “easy. fucking told them it’d be easy.”

your high is steadily approaching as the abuse continues on your swollen heat, ears only filled with lust as you block out his mumbling. “matthew, please. i think... ‘m gonna—.”

“let go for me, little duck,” he coaxes, rhythm starting to falter. “yeah? then i can fuck y—.”

“matthew-sshi!?” coach yang’s voice suddenly bellows through the locked office door. “open this door right NOW!”

“no fucking way,” matthew whines loudly as you scramble off of your teacher’s desk— shifting the crotch of your shorts back into place as he slams a fist down on the filing cabinet next to you. “we weren’t finished! i thought i was gonna be the one to—.”

“one... two...” coach yang starts counting down, causing matthew to run to the door and open it immediately. such a petulant child, you think as you ignorie the feeling of your arousal starting to drip down your thigh.

“are you kidding me!? this is the third person i’ve caught you doing this with in here this semester alone, matthew-sshi,” coach yang reprimands as soon as he steps inside, throwing his clipboard down on the floor and removing his baseball cap. 

was matthew about to face serious consequences for this? i mean, he did purposely injure you as a ruse to have sex with him... probably.

“but you’re the team’s best centre-back. you’ve gotta support hanbin out there,” coach yang says with a sigh, matthew subtly rolling his eyes at the mention of his superior hyung. “i just can’t bench you for saturday’s game.”

“oh my god,” you whisper, eyes wide at matthew’s ability to evade punishment. it’s not just infuriating: it’s impressive.

“thank you coach,” matthew says, suddenly turning on that cute charm like the gumiho he must truly be. “i won’t let you down.”

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang calls, turning to look at you. “you’ll be cleaning soccer balls after every class until the end of the unit.”

“WHAT!?” you screech in shock. you’ve never received so much as a disciplinary warning in your entire academic career. “but—... but—.”

“you can clean the tennis balls next unit too, if you like,” he says, picking up his clipboard from off the ground and replacing his baseball cap onto his head. “and stop with the ducking, will you? i don’t need a lawsuit on my hands.”

you nod, your entire face burning as your coach looks anywhere but at you. you can’t say you blame him.

“c’mon, matthew-sshi. team meeting in fifteen minutes,” he instructs, walking out of his office. matthew starts to follow, but turns around in the doorway.

“meet me after practice, we can—,” he whispers, until a hand latches around the collar of his shirt and pulls him away, leaving you all on your lonesome in the small gymnasium office.

so... wednesday hadn’t gone how you’d hoped. no use crying over spilled milk (or spilled blood). thursday would be a better day.

but maybe purchasing a chastity belt wouldn’t be such a bad idea in the mean time.

[annafayeink]

Canvas of Lies

summary: Cate’s life is a careful balance of paint-splattered sweaters, rejection emails, and dreams too big to fit in her tiny apartment. Lu’s life is all charm, designer sneakers, and family obligations that come with impossible expectations. They’re best friends, polar opposites—and suddenly fake dating to help Lu survive a high-stakes family dinner. What starts as an improvised act becomes a whirlwind of tangled stories, unspoken truths, and moments that blur the line between pretend and reality. In the chaos of lies they craft together, Cate and Lu might just uncover the truths they’ve been avoiding all along.

warnings & tags: best friends to lovers; fake dating; mutual pining; slow burn; emotional hurt/comfort; fluff, angst & humor; eventual romance & smut;

Read on ao3

Chapter One

The rejection email sat in my inbox like a tiny grenade, waiting to explode.  

“Thank you for your submission, but we are unable to include your work at this time…” 

I didn’t need to read the rest. They were all the same—polite, distant, and devastating. I hovered the mouse over the delete button, as if making it go away would somehow turn back time. 

I slammed my laptop shut instead. The motion sent a jar of brushes teetering off the edge of my desk. It hit the floor with a sharp clatter, paint-streaked handles rolling and scattering across the floor.

I let out a frustrated breath, eyes flickering towards the half-finished painting on the easel. The colors were bold—too bold. The swirls of blue and gold clashed in a chaotic explosion of pigment that seemed to scream without words. It felt just like my emotions. It felt like me: all over the place and out of control. Somehow too much and not enough at the same time. 

I groaned and crouched to gather them, but my knee bumped against the easel and it was all I could do not to let it go flying to the floor as well. A smear of blue paint ended up on the cuff of my sweater, but I couldn't bring myself to care. It was just another thing in my surroundings to remind me of what a mess I am.

The knock on my apartment door broke the suffocating silence to snap me out of my self-pity spiral.  

“Open up, starving artist. I brought sustenance.”  

I straightened, brushing stray hairs out of my face, and shuffled to the door. I didn't bother checking the peephole — who else would show up unannounced with that much swagger?

His voice was unmistakable: smooth, teasing, and just a little too confident.   

I couldn't help but smile as soon as I opened the door. There he stood, Luigi Mangione, my best friend and occasional pain in the ass. His Adidas jacket was slung over one arm, and his dark hair was artfully disheveled in a way that probably took no effort at all. In his free hand, he held a bag from my favourite bakery.

“You look…” He tilted his head, giving me an exaggerated once-over. “Unhinged. Have you slept?”  

“Hello to you too,” I muttered, stepping aside to let him in.  

With the scent of sugar and butter trailing behind him, he waltzed into my apartment with the kind of casual confidence I'd never quite mastered. As he passed, his hand brushed my shoulder, warm and grounding. Then he placed the bag on my tiny kitchen counter and tossed his jacket over the back of my desk chair carelessly. 

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice tinged with mock concern. His fingers reached out to pick at a paint stain near the elbow of my hoodie. “You look like you’ve been on a three-day bender. Did you finally lose it and paint with wine?”  

“No. Wine is expensive.”  

“Fair point.” He handed me a croissant and perched himself on the arm of my threadbare couch, kicking off his sneakers like it was his second home. 

I took a bite, grateful for the distraction, but his eyes stayed on me, too sharp and perceptive for my comfort.

“What happened this time?” he asked, leaning forward. His tone had softened, but his gaze was steady—like he could see right through me even when I didn't want him to.

I hesitated. Lu was my best friend, but his world was light-years away from mine. It wasn't just the money, or the confidence, or the way he moved through the world like he belonged everywhere. It was the ease with which everything seemed to fall into place for him. Like he'd been handed a map at birth, while I was still wandering in circles, looking for the starting line.

He had more charisma than anyone should be allowed, the right connections, and an aura I couldn't replicate. Meanwhile, I was stuck in this tiny apartment, surrounded by unfinished projects and an inbox full of rejection emails. It felt like trying to explain a snowstorm to someone who lived in a desert. I wasn’t sure he’d understand. Still, I gestured vaguely towards my closed laptop.  

“They rejected me again,” I said, forcing the words out. “Apparently, I’m too ‘experimental’ for the gallery scene. Whatever that means.”  

Lu's brows knit together, an expression so out of character it almost made me laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Your work is incredible.” He held my hand and pulled me towards him, making me plop down heavily on the couch. “Those idiots wouldn’t know talent if it slapped them in the face.”  

I snorted, and a bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “Thanks, but I don’t think slapping people is part of the artistic process.”  

“Maybe it should be.” He grinned, but there was a softness in his eyes and a hint of admiration that made my chest ache. He tapped my knee gently in that reassuring manner of his. “You’re going to make it, you know. One of these days, they’re all going to be begging for your work.”

His words landed with more weight than I expected. I felt them sink in, but I didn't know how to respond. The sincerity in his expression caught me off-guard.

His hand rested on my knee, tender, and solid. It made me want to believe him—to think that one day my paintings might be hanging in galleries, admired by the same people who rejected me now.

“I mean it,” he said, quieter. His thumb brushed against the seam of my jeans, an absentminded motion that somehow steadied me. “I'm serious, Catherine. You've got something special, and one of these days it's all going to click for them. You'll show them.”

I turned back to the easel so I could blink away the wetness in my eyes, brought on by the flutter of hope. But when my gaze drifted back to the blue and gold monstrosity laughing at me from its perch, suddenly the lump in my throat grew to the size of a football. How could I show them how good I could be when I didn't even know how to make it right?

I got up, avoiding his gaze, and busied myself collecting the brushes I'd dropped before. “It's just… it doesn't feel enough. I feel like I'm always halfway there, but can never get it right.”

“Maybe it's not about getting it perfect. Maybe it's about… Getting out of your own head and letting go.” I heard Lu getting back up and crossing the room in a few steps. He crouched beside me to take a hold of my chin and make me look at him. “Remember that mural you did in college? The next day you freaked out because you hated it, but it’s still all over social media! People love your work because it's you. That's what they’re going to see eventually, I promise.”

His smile was gentle, without a trace of teasing. I buried my face in his neck and his arms surrounded me.

The pang of envy hit me unexpectedly, sharp and unwelcome. Everything came so easily to Lu, from charming strangers to walking into a room like he owned it. Even now, standing in my cluttered apartment wearing a five-year-old sweater and looking like he'd just rolled out of bed, he came across as someone who could be in a penthouse somewhere, sipping champagne and making business deals with powerful people. Meanwhile, here I was, hoping the stupid croissant wasn’t my last meal before rent came due.

I knew he was being sincere, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't quite understand what it was like to fight for every inch of progress. To be told you weren't enough over and over again until you started to believe it. But I didn't say that. I didn't want to ruin the moment.

“I'm gonna need you to repeat those words every now and then, okay?” I said, breathing deeply to shove my internal pity party away. “You know, to balance out all the rejections…"

When I pulled away from his embrace, he kissed my forehead lightly. “I will, anytime you need to be reminded of it.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said lightly, forcing a smile. “I’ll be sure to let the art snobs know you’re on my side.”

“Damn right I am,” he said, flashing me another familiar grin. “Somebody has to keep you from becoming a tragic artist cliché.”

I rolled my eyes, but the tension in my chest eased just a little.

Then his phone buzzed, and everything shifted. He glanced at the screen and groaned.  

“Oh, come on, not again…” He answered the call, putting it on speaker.  

“Luigi!” his mother’s crisp, aristocratic voice filled the room. “Have you given any thought to who you’ll bring to the anniversary dinner? It’s next weekend, and you cannot show up alone. You know how that looks.”

Lu rolled his eyes at me. The corners of his mouth were pressed into a thin line when he got up with stiffening shoulders to pace the room. “I was actually planning to—”  

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on being so difficult. We’ve been nothing but patient with you, and this is how you repay us? By embarrassing us in front of the entire family and our partners? Do you have any idea what people will say? I mean, for God's sake, Luigi—”

As his mother droned on, Lu ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. The usual easy smile was gone, replaced by a tension that rarely showed on his face.

I raised an eyebrow at him. He usually brushed off family drama with a joke, but this seemed to cut deeper.

He hit the mute button, letting out a long sigh. “See what I have to deal with?” he said to me, exasperated. 

“Getting a date sounds like a you problem,” I smirked. “Good luck with that…”  

My words were casual, trying to lighten the mood, but my gaze lingered on him. The frustration in his eyes wasn't just annoyance—it was heavier, like he was carrying the weight of years of this.

He let out a dry laugh. “Thanks for the support.”

I shrugged. “You could always just tell her to back off, you know.”

He didn't answer, but the flicker of something in his expression—regret? Resignation? — made me feel like maybe I'd crossed a line.

Before I could say more, he unmuted the microphone. “Fine, Mother. I’ll find someone you’ll approve of.”  

“You’d better. And make sure she’s… respectable. Someone worthy of the family name. Honestly, Luigi, do try to act like a Mangione for once. We've given you everything, every advantage, and all we ask is for you to do your part and stop being troublesome.”

The call ended with a sharp click, leaving a silence that felt too loud. 

Lu stared at the phone for a moment before setting it down on the counter with more force than necessary. His fingers drummed against the countertop, his usual ease replaced by a restless energy. 

“Wow,” I finally said, breaking the silence. “That was… intense."

“That's just how she is,” he replied with a shrug, as if It wasn't that big of a deal. He flopped back onto the couch, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed him. “She wants ‘respectable.’ What does that even mean? Respectable by whose standards? Am I supposed to find someone who quotes Shakespeare while doing charity work in pearls?”  

“Or,” I suggested, nudging his leg with my foot, “you could skip dinner altogether.”  

“Tempting,” he said, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “But no. If I don’t show, she’ll send an army of matchmakers after me. Last time, it was someone who thought a ‘fun date’ was discussing the stock market.”  

I giggled, imagining him squirming through that nightmare. “Lu, you don't have to jump just because she snaps her fingers. You're a grown man.”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “It's more complicated than that.”

“It is?” I asked before I could stop myself, curiosity piqued.

He didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

I wanted to push further, ask what he meant by that. But there was something in the sudden darkness of his demeanor that stopped me. There was something he wasn't telling me, but I didn't know how to ask without possibly making things worse.

With a resigned huff, he shifted, laying his head on my lap. It was a familiar gesture, one he'd done countless times before whenever he sought comfort but refused to admit it.

Instinctively, I began to play with his curls, twirling the soft strands around my fingers. The rhythmic motion seemed to soothe him, his eyes fluttering shut as he relaxed.

“You're too good to me, Cate,” he murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Someone has to keep you in line,” I teased, gently tugging on a particularly stubborn curl.

He chuckled softly. The weight of his frustration seemed to lift, replaced by the comfortable silence that often settled between us.

After a while, I broke the quiet. “So, about this anniversary dinner… Any ideas on who the lucky ‘respectable’ date might be?”

He let out a humourless laugh. “If I had someone, don't you think I'd have mentioned it by now?”

“Okay, fair.” I paused, a mischievous thought creeping in. “You know, if you're desperate, I could always dust off one of my old dresses and pretend to be your doting girlfriend for the night.”

His eyes snapped open, and he tilted his head to look up at me. “That’s… insane.”  

“It’s genius,” I corrected.  

“It’s insane,” he repeated, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You’d really do that?

“Of course,” I said, giving his hair a gentle ruffle. “It sounds fun. Plus, I owe for all the croissants.”

The tension in his shoulders eased visibly. “You, in a fancy dress, pretending to be my girlfriend? Now that's something I'd pay to see.”

“Hey, I clean up nicely,” I shot back, feigning offense.

Lu's eyes softened. “Do you, now?”

Before I could respond, he reached out to cup my face with his hand. His thumb brushed gently against my cheek, moving in a slow arc, tracing a line that left warmth in its wake. 

The sudden unexpected touch sent a shiver down my spine. I froze, not sure what he was up to, until he pulled his hand back with a smug grin. 

“You're wearing your art again,” he said, holding up his thumb to reveal a faint cobalt smear.

I blinked, then let out a nervous laugh. “Occupational hazard.”

His hand dropped back to his chest. His smile came a second too late, gaze lingering on me like he wasn't entirely sure whether to laugh or say something else entirely. But then I saw the familiar playful glint return to his eyes. 

“I guess that means I'll have to keep an eye on you during dinner. Make sure you don't end up wearing the hors d'oeuvres too,” he laughed. 

“Very funny,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“That would really make you look experimental.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Hey, as long as you promise not to spill your hundred dollar wine on my fancy dress...”

“Fine,” he said with a cheeky laugh. “Just don’t fall in love with me. That’s not part of the deal.”

“Pfft. As if.” I swatted at his arm, grateful for the tension finally breaking into our usual banter.

As we laughed, we stayed like that on the couch—close, steady, familiar. Just like always.

___

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