#*adds more torments* perfect

[godsfavoritescientist]

Another piece of the puzzle has clicked into place for my bill postfinale character arc fic >:]

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐌𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | gojō satoru

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: bully! Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you + Gojo are college juniors - first kiss - fingering (f! receiving) - sqüiřtıng - virginity loss - corruption kink - missionary + deep impact positions - clitoral play - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - premature ejaculation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, princess) - itty bitty possessiveness - mention of spit/drool and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

“Yo.”

“Yes, Satoru?”

“You never had your first kiss, huh?”

Gojo Satoru takes pleasure in being your bully — nothing in his third year of college gives him much joy than being your one source of torment. Sure, he’s got everything: being the campus’ grounds #1 heartthrob, a star player on the men’s basketball team, and an excellent scholar in all his courses despite being a dickhead. But, even if he possesses the things that put him at the top of the class body, his other fountain of entertainment comes from something - or someone - that playing ball or dormitory parties can’t produce the same level of internal enjoyment. 

You and he were alone in his apartment, umbrellaed under the instruction of working on an upcoming project this month. Of course, boredom is evident in the tall one’s heavy sighs as he looks through multiple articles on his laptop. Cerulean orbs wander away from the device’s screen and land on the other side of the couch; another figure glued to the armrest is concentrated on typing their keyboard to notice the prying survey. 

Gojo’s ennui begins to flicker out the moment he sees you, wanting nothing to do with this damn assignment and just to mess with his favorite pushover. This is precisely why he prompts himself to ask you a question, and judging by how quickly your fingers stop typing, now his attention is hooked onto a matter way more fascinating.

He spots your flattened lips. “…Wh–Where did that come from?”

“Just curious, a random thought that came to my head.” 

“Why was that the thought that—“

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna answer the question?”

You stammer. “What makes you think I never had my first kiss?!”

He lifts a brow; his round shades shine when he smirks. “So you did have a first kiss?” Your lips open with no voice, and both silver eyebrows rise from the silent answer you’re giving, only for you to close your mouth and avert your gaze elsewhere. Gotcha, he stifles a chuckle. “Thought so, you terrible liar. Embarrassed I called you out? Haha, hilarious.”

Your eyes may be on the words of your document on your laptop, but the heat on your cheeks and the uncomfortable knot in your gut kept brewing. You chew on your lips to focus on something other than the guy getting a kick out of your lack of experience — the guy you don’t hear close and place his computer on the coffee table.

“Hey,” the closeness of his voice takes you aback, and you’re surprised to see him sit closer enough to bring a hand to close your laptop. “Wanna kiss me?”

Mortified eyelids shoot wide. “Wanna—Wh-What!?!” What the fuck is going on?!? “Why would you ask me—“

A nonchalant shrug adds more weight to your shock. “Why not? It’s just you and me, alone in my apartment at 8 o’clock. Sounds like a perfect opportunity, doncha think?” 

“Yeah, to do work!” Your emphasis fails as Gojo takes your device to add to the table surface. “I-I didn’t come here for you to question me and ask to—“

“You got someone else you’re waiting for?” He uses a hand to cage you from escaping, a knee between your legs. He knows he has the upper hand, observing behind shielded sunglasses as he awaits your response. 

“I–W-Well,” God, what did I get myself into? “Not necessarily…”

“So, do you not trust me with your first kiss?”

“That’s…That’s not the point—“

“You’re deflecting!”

“Satoru,” the way you say his name — low and soft, a pleading whisper — makes something switch for Gojo, looking at your bashful expression with hesitant hands, barely pushing his chest. “We shouldn’t…Let’s get back to the assignment?”

That wasn’t working on him; he’d never want to stop teasing you, especially now when you look too cute. “Let me kiss you one time, ‘kay? Then, we’ll go straight back to work.” He can see the cogs work in your brain, deciphering whether he is genuine. Was he? He couldn’t tell; all he was thinking about was how your lips felt. “I promise, princess.”

You didn’t mean it to happen, but you scan from his shades to his lips; now, it’s all you can see. The bob of his Adam’s apple, when he gulps, has your breath hitch, and after a few silent seconds with no movement, he begins to descend his face lower, and your lids swiftly close. So does his as he gently places his pillowy lips onto your plump ones, and a hushed squeak doesn’t go neglected.

Cherry — that’s the flavor that Gojo can taste. It has to be from the lip gloss you plastered on your lips that made them inviting to gawk at, pretty lips that the tall other couldn’t stop peering occasionally. He licks the bottom, taking in more of the taste with a soft groan. You yelp, gaping your lips further to give the man above an idea, and chew on your bottom lip. More whimpers slide past your control, hands gripping his sweatshirt as he peppers you with soft kisses, latching onto yours for longer seconds from one after the other — so much for one kiss.

You’re the one to break it off, hesitantly backing away from him to breathe. Hot skin returns to the cold air, and intimate huffs fuel into the space. You open your eyes slowly, half-lidded with knitted brows and scorching ears. You examine Gojo’s neutral expression; orbs that were once filled with reluctance are now replaced with a...wonder.

An innocent wonder that nearly has Gojo shut down from seeing as your hands steadily ring around his neck. There it is again, another switch flipped. This time, a spark ignites his brain, curiosity coursed to a more indecent field after what it feels like taking your first kiss. Because the way you’re looking under him — entirely submitted to him and his touch — wasn’t something he expected to rock his core. And all he can think about now…

…Is what taking all of your firsts would be like.

“—Taaahhh, haah…! Satoru, w-wait a min—“

“Hey, baby, tell me, what’s it like having my fingers inside you?”

Gojo’s little experiment delved into different extremes; your first kiss was the starting point of the many thoughts that perturbed his thinking. He wanted to know more about your potential firsts. For example, such as right now, how you’d be if he were the first to touch your privates. 

The atmosphere around the living room became hotter; the tepid silence switched with the erotic sounds and squeals that exited your system. Your legs spread apart, Gojo in between your thighs as his big, calloused hand swims under your panties to shove away and meet the bareness of your cunt. You were so wet, your liquids effortlessly coating his fingertips with barely any push. An entire mess between your inner thighs and labia. And that made Gojo’s mind go wild.

“Holy shit,” he chuckles in a heavy sigh. “So fucking wet and tight…Heh, you’re all like this because of a kiss, huh? So adorably pathetic.”

Refutation is impossible as he curls his forefinger inside, scraping your upper wall in a manner you never envisaged. “Sator—Mmmph…!” He keeps pushing the digit to the knuckle, touching crevices of your inner channel you could never reach. “O-Ohhh, Jesus…”

“Mmmm, fuck, you're twitching like crazy,” and Gojo was loving every second of it. The taller junior then decides to test something and creeps his middle finger near your opening, smearing itself with your come as lube. 

You sense him push the finger in, nerves heightened. “W-Wait, Satoru, I can’t—“

“Oh, yes, you can.” He interrupts you with a cheeky sneer. “You’re practically asking for it with you twitching so much. Watch.” Gojo pushes the middle digit leisurely; your beseeching babbles become increasingly incoherent when he adds the whole thing with the other finger. Now, both of them have you shrilling from their intrepid fashion, grazing on your vaginal walls with every pull and shove until his knuckles smooch your labia.

Good God, the place is so hot, your face is hot, your body’s hot, your insides feel hot — everything is just too hot for you to handle! And your brain cannot hold itself together as the seconds go. You throw your head back, your eyes sewn shut, “OhGod, ahhck! Wait, stooop! Go slow, go slo—Ohhh!” Gojo does the exact opposite; the pace of his fingers surges to a tempo you find difficult to ride through. Your entire frame locks together, preparing for the inevitable to slip past your hold, and tremors course around you as your orgasm hits you like a train.

Simultaneously as Gojo continues to rut your soapy cunt, a clear liquid disperses out of your urethra and sprays outward. Sprinkling onto the skin of your thighs and drenching your underwear. Although you’re not the only one who gets caught, Gojo at the front gets a genuine display of you showering his forearm with your essence, damping his sweatshirt in the process, and even a bit on his sunglasses.

It happens the third time: something snaps inside Gojo once he sees your oddly beautiful teary face. It’s at that moment that something in his core breaks and permeates his entire body with a force that’s been itching to get out when he kissed you earlier. He swallows thickly because the next thing he does after this will eat him alive, a queerly anticipated feeling for the white-haired man.

Of course, Gojo is astonished at what transpired, the shock in his eyes concealed by the shades. “Did you…just squirt on me?” His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine.

Massive tears roll down your cheeks, “I—hic—I told you to wait…!” 

It’s a no-brainer that Gojo pulls you off the couch and leads you to throw on top of his bed, stripping himself off his pants and briefs to free his raging erection and crawling up on top of you after chucking his shades off. A gasp leaves puffy lips when his pink glans meet the folds of your vagina, burrowing between your labia to coat with your slick.

“Satoru, wait,” you voice. “D-Don’t you have a condom?”

“Sorry, ran out of them.” Lies. Gojo knows he has rubbers tucked in his nightstand. However, the intention to use them is nowhere to be found. Because tonight – knowing completely and damn well you’re still a virgin – he had to fuck you raw. The drive to do so sent shivers up his spine. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll promise to pull out.”

Yet again, another deception.

Gojo pushes the tip in as he counts your breaths, watching every wince and contortion of your expression as the cockhead ventures and seeks shelter inside your slit. Your body is squirming through every exhale, and Gojo’s coaxes to relax your rigidness are somewhat helpful as you intake air. Before you know it, your mouth goes to a permanent ‘o’ shape once the tip is inserted, the act of breathing stops, and your body recoils and tenses as he slowly forces the foreign limb to carve your tightness inch by inch.

Oh, fucking shit…!! Oh yeah, Gojo thanks himself for not putting on a rubber. The firm grasp of your walls around his length nearly has him lose balance, sinking into your warm wetness clenching onto him so deliciously. He bites his lip to composure, a futile attempt as he throws in a few slow thrusts, and the snug of you has him in a chokehold. Then, when he hits your cervix, you instinctively grip onto him tighter and wrap your legs around him, and Gojo almost chokes. 

“F-Fuuck, wait, wait..!” He curses, submitting to a release way too early; his hips tremble as his cock ejaculates into your vagina. Shocks rattle his brain, rolling his eyes to the ceiling at the sensation of pooling himself into you. “Shit, oh shiiiit…this fucking pussy is driving me crazy.”

It really does because Gojo, still keen from his climax, dials the cadence, rutting into you with purpose. The sudden movements have your shrieks bouncing across the bedroom walls, and hits to your womb are frequent and cause more tears to strike down without your comprehension. “Nnnmm! OhhhmyGod…! Mmoohh!!”

“Heh, look at you cryin’,” Gojo teases you from above, licking a tear before kissing your cheek and ear. “Guess that’s expected for your first time, huh…Hnnnm, God, you’re clenching my dick so much.”

“Th-That’s because you’re—“The curve of his shaft has the tip graze your walls in an angle that makes your back arch. “Ahhoooo!! I’m fuull; you’re making me fulll…!!”

“Awww, am I making you full, crybaby?” He mocks you in your ear, the snicker sounding too salacious to the drum. “You full with my dick that it got you whining and crying for me?”

I can’t do this! Your brain dissolves into mush, and your face is too hot to construct adequate consciousness. “I can feel it, I can feel…”

“What is it? I can’t hear you through all the sobbing,” Gojo unscrews your legs to maneuver one for him to straddle and the other to lie on his shoulder. The new position gave him a directed way to piston his pelvis into your aching cunt, your squeals turning into screams as pokes to your womb come with the feverish pacing. He’s hitting so deep you can’t catch up! “What, you think you’re about to cum?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes, yesss!!”

“Oh, that’s what you want now?” The snow-headed man chortles before sneaking a hand to your vulva, where his fore and middle finger swipe on your clit. “Tell me, is that what my pathetic angel wants?” You nod again, so he pinches your bud. “Tell me properly~.”

“—Ahhnnn, ohh, Sa—‘Toruuu!!” You pan to him. “Pleaseee, please make me cum, I wanna cum…!!”

God, this was a picture worth savoring. The image of you being all desperate for release, wanting nothing but to succumb to your wanton desire. You looked so ruined, like a completely different person compared to the meek exterior Gojo used to. And it’s all because of him – his words, his touches, his lips, and his dick – that you’re like this. A fact that only propels him to hammer his hips into you harsher. 

“Good girl,” he bends down to close his face to yours. Surveying you make such erotic faces as he keeps playing with your clit is food for his soul. “Enjoy yourself, princess,” and he steals your lips once more for another kiss.

Your orgasm comes to you quicker than ever, thanks to the work of Gojo’s hips, the hits of your cervix, the pinches on your clitoris, and the sloppy makeout session. Your body freezes and lets the aftershocks jolt you to a rocky clarity, your head in a dense fog, and your vision just about blurry. Your legs quiver with heaving breaths, and Gojo keeps thrusting as you soon fall out of your euphoria. 

The cold air blankets both of you once tense muscles calm down and bring you two back to reality. Silence befriends the lack of words aside from the pants of breath, and Gojo sluggishly withdraws his cock out of your wet chasm, whistling at the sight of his load slowly protruding out of your essence.

“Hey,” your face forms into a helpless expression. “Bet you never tried anal before.”

Tonight was dedicated to conquering all of your firsts. And Gojo means that with every bone in his body!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ transparent edit made by me + dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[dark-konohagakure2]

Gaara ‘taming’ virgin reader for not staying in her place as a woman

tw: dub/noncon, age difference, power imbalance, gags, nipple clamps, misogyny, best friend's dad, overstimulation, brat taming, sex toys, kidnapping

All characters depicted are 18+

Gaara isn't terribly controlling of who Shinki can and cannot be friends with, the boy is all grown up now after all and Gaara wants his adoptive son to have a relatively normal and carefree life, but there is one friend of his son's that just rubs Gaara the wrong way, she's loud and tomboyish, never using manners or honorifics when speaking to her elders, not even with the Kazekage himself. Gaara is no helicopter parent, but even he can tell that this young lady is a bad influence.

He won't force Shinki to stop being friends with the girl, the both of them are adults so technically Gaara can't force them to do anything, but what he can do is use his authority as Kazekage to teach the unruly girl a lesson before she ends up getting his son into some serious trouble with that attitude of hers. Despite her rebellious personality, she'll have no choice but to show up when she'd suddenly summoned by her Kazekage for seemingly no reason at all.

Being both a parent and a world leader, Gaara has perfected the act of speaking in a firm tone that brooks no argument. He'll tell her that she's committed a grave slight against him personally, and that he's going to have to punish her himself. She'll have no idea what on earth Gaara is talking about, and he doesn't elaborate, simply informing her that she requires some serious reeducation in how a proper Sand kunoichi behaves.

Before long she's forcibly on his knees underneath his wooden Kazekage's desk, gagged and bound with her hands behind her back, her sensitive nipples aching from the tight clamps attached to them, the link nubs hurting even more everytime Gaara lazily tugs the thin chain attached to them. Her pussy doesn't fare much better either, not even there's a large dildo inside her, gravity forcing her down onto it, and a vibrator attached to her clit at the lowest setting, she can't even protest or even whine with her noises muffled by the ball gag in her mouth.

"Hush down there. I'm trying to do my work. Good girls should be seen and not heard... Perhaps if you knew that beforehand, we wouldn't be in this position, now would we?"

Gaara, despite his insisting on being the one to correct her bad behavior, doesn't speak much, more concerned with his paperwork than with some bad girl who doesn't know the first thing about being ladylike. He'll mostly just tug on the clamp leash whenever she moves too much, or very lightly kick her if she's being too loud for him to concentrate on what's actually important.

The fact that she's under his desk, just barely concealed by the table, adds an additional layer of humiliation to the ordeal, it's impossible for her to tell if any of Gaara's subordinates or siblings who stop by the office can hear the sounds of her whimpers or the low hum of the vibrator tormenting her hardened clit. Despite being hidden from view, she feels all the more exposed.

Gaara will adjust the settings on the vibrator aimlessly, not sparing either her nor the small remote so much of a glance as he continues the monotonous paperwork, he seems more preoccupied with the boring documents than with the writhing girl beneath him, as if deigning to spare her a glance is beneath him, as if she is beneath him.

He's going to make her cum, it's only a matter of time, for the human body can only take so much internal and external stimulation before it breaks, and she'll break alright, all over her Kazekage's shoe in fact. Gaara won't be very happy about that, giving a stern glare at both her perceived disobedience and the mess she made on him.

"Bad girl. Very bad. I told you not to cum. Getting rid of your bad habits is going to take longer than I thought. Much longer..."

He's the Kazekage, so nobody, not even his own son or siblings will bat an eye when Gaara feigns concern after receiving a repost that a young kunoichi, a friend of his son's, has mysterious gone missing, they're all none the wiser to the fact that their 'missing' shinobi is right under their noses, or more accurately; right underneath their Kazekage.

[truuskn]

a couple of my favorite jazzprowl interactions from comics:

on the ruins of praxus

prowl is lost in the pain of the past sharing a piece of his history opening up his soul to someone else perhaps for the first time in forever. jazz doesn't have time to respond, he actually doesn't really know what to say here. no words in the world would be enough to fully express his compassion at this moment and he knows perfectly well that there is no point in pitying his friend - prowl will either react negatively or won't react at all. so he immediately switches to another topic - work. the one thing that always saves prowl from collapse

oh, i want this story to be resuscitated at some point in the future of tf. it's able to reveal prowl (and bluestreak btw!!) so well, add depth to his pure hatred of the decepticons. come on, give this guy at least one truly emotional backstory, please!

jazz and the mantle of leadership

prowl is the only one with whom jazz is able to loosen his control a bit and show his emotions (not feelings. that shit stays inside him and no one will ever know the truth) and jazz is the only one with whom prowl tries to control his temper, behaves softly and carefully, supports in difficult situations. prowl genuinely tries to help jazz, he sees him as a living being, not as an elements of one of his plans

i like that this story focused on jazz as optimus' replacement. i see different characters in different situations as the autobots' sic, here in my opinion the most interesting option was selected. idw prowl is not good at leading people. he can manage them, give orders, strategy, tactics, that's what he's really good at, but inspiring a crowd and making them follow him is not his thing. not just because he's usually an asshole and half of the army wants to punch him in the face, no :D jazz is just much more suited for this. he's not just a popular bot, not just the soul of every company, he knows how to make others do what he wants, he knows when to be softer and when to be harder, how to put people in their place, he knows how to behave in public, he created an amazing image of himself and he always follows it to the bit. but all of these is only on the outside, deep inside he's insecure, he's afraid, lost and he doesn't want this responsibility, he doesn't see himself as a leader (no one but optimus prime has the right to be) and prowl tries to prove the opposite to him. they complement each other, cover their weaknesses and in tandem they work just perfect

sudden change of character

when a completely non-spontaneous, calculated, thoughtful character suddenly changes their usual behaviour and pulls some weird tricks and their partner who is not used to this kind of things gets totally confused and shocked by the situation >>>

jazz is tormented by guilt. he let prowl down. he didn't just let him die, he let him die for nothing. he failed his dear friend at the most important moment! the decepticons will win, autobots just lost one of their most important member, they are doomed, completely and irrevocably doom... wait a minute?? prowl just comes out of nowhere?? all so calm and relaxed?? "hey, jazz! i suddenly decided to chill and rest a little like you've been advising me for millions of years. oh, and pardon me, i guess i forgot to inform you that i'm not dead and you've been grieving for me for nothing! oops. also i managed to solve all our problems, so don't worry about it, buddy" and jazz doesn't know whether to cry or laugh. or to slap this guy properly. or to throw himself on prowl and squeeze the bastard in joyful embrace until he cracks!!

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Rings of Power Masterlist

-> all fics are x fem!Elf!reader

-> please check the warnings for each fic before reading

-> ao3 account

-> general masterlist

🎀 = contains smut

-> Sauron

Ruin - in which you share a moment alone in the forge

Misled - in which he tries to convince you that your father, Lord Celebrimbor, is the darkness you saw in the Unseen World

Distraction - in which he blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Choice - in which you try to persuade Halbrand to follow you to the Southlands, regardless of his past

Decision - in which you find out why Halbrand has been distant despite the intimacy you shared in Númenor, and now it’s your turn to decide whether or not to follow him on the path ahead

Perfect illusion - in which you have to sit at your father’s side while Sauron coerces him into finishing the Nine, realizing just how blind you have been all along

🎀 Inspiration - In which you struggle coming up with new designs for the Nine, and the Lord of Gifts helps you overcome your creative block

🎀 Further inspiration - in which you discover Annatar aiding Celebrimbor in his work with the same unconventional method he used with you, but that doesn’t mean he has discarded you

-> Evil!reader (chronological order)

* technically these share the same reader, but as the fics were not written in chronological order, each of them is either self-contained or has some info beforehand so it’s not too confusing wherever you start. So feel free to read them as a series or simply pick what sounds good to you.

* playlist for vibes

*some crazy memes about these two here and here

Remade - in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

🎀 Tides of fate -> in which your newly returned husband is unsure of the path ahead, and the sea itself tries to deter you from the one you choose together

Reunion - in which your husband finally returns from his time in Númenor, and you make the most of the first moment you get him alone

As one - in which you sense that your husband is being tormented at Adar’s camp, and you join him through your bond to share in his burden from afar

🎀 As we are now - in which you explore your husband’s new form, and it leads to you breaching a rather delicate subject

A true gift - in which you share a private moment with your husband, then add a special little detail to his new look

Jealousy - in which you know he is only getting close to Mirdania as part of your plans, but it still bothers you

Reveal - in which you can’t seem to quell Celebrimbor’s suspicions, and he finally learns the true identity of you and your husband

🎀 Theatrics - in which Celebrimbor tries to expose you and your husband to the people of Eregion, but you play the role of the innocent maiden to perfection

Old Wounds - in which you guard Celebrimbor to make sure he finishes the Nine, and he makes the mistake of underestimating the bond you and your husband share

Kill and make up - in which you and your husband discover that Celebrimbor has escaped with the Nine, and it brings out the uglier side of your relationship

Defied - in which Celebrimbor manages, with his dying words, to unearth some truths which you and your husband are desperate to deny

The Two - in which Galadriel fights to withhold Nenya and the Nine, but in the end she fails to stop your husband placing yet another ring upon your finger

-> Galadriel

Lost - in which she sees you in her 2x02 vision instead of Celebrimbor

Blindly - in which you find Galadriel in the waters of the Glanduin, acting strange in a terrifying way

[yourownutopia]

Chapter 2

Shadowborn ( a jin woo x reader story)

When the Shadow Monarch adds you to his ranks, he has no idea what he's in for. Not only are you uncontrollable, but you also harbor a secret that even the System keeps hidden from him. As he searches for a way to bring you under control, it becomes clear that your existence exposes a flaw in the perfect structure of the shadows—one that no one could have foreseen. Why don’t you yield to his will, and more importantly, why doesn’t the System want you to remember? [Jin Woo x fem! shadow! reader]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter Index :

[Prologue], [1] [2ʰᵉʳᵉ]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Song: Shadowborn - Hiroyuki Sawano

Calm before the storm - It's me they all are coming for

Be my shadowborn

We're back to take the pain - My soul is indestructible

I steal you from the grave - So cursed to be a slave

»»———-»--•--«———-««

Make sure to read the previous Chapters!

Notes: I want to clarify that English is not my first language. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes or if I sometimes use incorrect word

and a little note about the pacing, which I’m adjusting slightly for the story’s sake. We are currently playing at the time AFTER the Architect Arc, but Jin Woo’s mother has not yet awakened~ Jin Woo has received his second heart and has killed the Architect. Now enjoy!

Chapter 2: Loyality

White.

endless white.

It was all that surrounded her, a brightness so intense that even with her eyes closed, it was all she could see.

“[Y/N].”

Who is that? Who is [Y/N]?

“[Y/N]...” the soft, gentle voice repeated, its tone cautious yet soothing. It carried warmth, as though it alone could shield her from every evil in the world, yet delicate enough to pierce through her soul.

“[Y/N], you must be careful.”

Was the voice speaking to her? [Y/N]… that was her name, wasn’t it?

The voice was calm, steady—but tinged with a faint worry, almost like a warning.

Be careful? Of what?

But [Y/N] couldn’t answer. It felt like a massive weight was pressing on her chest, pinning her down and robbing her of breath. Still, the voice seemed to understand what she was thinking without her saying a word.

“You must be careful. He will—” The voice began again, but suddenly, the warmth surrounding her shattered. Something powerful, something dark, tore through the serene light, driving it back.

No…

The ominous presence invaded her, suffocating the light and the warmth, forcing them to retreat.

No, don’t leave me… don’t leave me alone with him.

The dark aura pressed against everything, smothering every trace of life, every fragile spark of hope.

When the darkness reached her, she jolted awake, her eyes snapping open.

“No!” she screamed, her voice echoing as her body shot upright. She found herself sitting on cold, unyielding stone.

Her panicked gaze darted around, searching desperately for the darkness that had tried to consume her. Her chest rose and fell erratically, lungs straining for air as though she’d just run a marathon.

Her body reacted instinctively as the hand of the young Shadow Monarch reached toward her. She lashed out, but her panicked strike was intercepted. Jin-Woo’s firm grip caught her wrist effortlessly.

Her glowing [E/C] eyes locked with his steely gray ones. His expression had softened, his features gentler than before.

“Easy now,” he said, his voice calm and grounding.

The sound of his voice reached her, pulling her gradually back into reality.

“Wha—” she began, but then it hit her. The memories came rushing back. She flinched as though bracing herself for the pain she’d expected—but it didn’t come.

Jin-Woo studied her silently, his calm gaze sweeping over her. There were no signs of pain now—only lingering shadows of whatever torment her memories had inflicted. What could she have seen?

Even as he convinced himself he’d severed his emotions for strangers long ago, a flicker of concern betrayed him.

[Y/N]’s thoughts slowly cleared as her breathing evened out. She found herself staring at the young Shadow Monarch.

She was still breathing irregularly, her eyes wide with panic. But when her gaze met his face, the cool gray of his eyes worked a strange magic on her frayed nerves. It was as if his calmness dictated her own. If he was at ease, she could be too—because as long as he remained composed, everything was alright. Right? Where did this feeling come from?

It was an inexplicable sensation, gnawing at the edges of her mind, as though his very presence served as an anchor, a safe harbor amidst the chaos.

What had happened?

She’d been trying to remember… and then she’d collapsed.

Realizing what she had almost done, her eyes widened. She quickly pulled her hand from his gentle grip, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush.

How embarrassing—especially after all the blunt truths she’d thrown at him earlier.

Her mouth opened to say something, but only a weak croak emerged. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

Jin-Woo sighed, as though resigned, and retrieved a water bottle from his inventory.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

Her confused [E/C] eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Drink,” he said again, more firmly this time.

Hesitant, she accepted the bottle. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat, earning a small, contented sigh.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to her lap. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

Jin-Woo wasn’t entirely sure what she was apologizing for—there were plenty of things she could be sorry about, after all.

For her part, [Y/N] felt guilty for lashing out at him, even if half-heartedly. Even the system had recognized she hadn’t truly meant to harm him—no notification like the one she’d seen in her first moments in this world had appeared.

“How long… was I out?” she asked nervously, handing the bottle back to him. Jin-Woo took it and rose to his feet with a sigh.

“About twelve hours,” he replied evenly.

Her face fell in disbelief.

“Twelve hours?!”

She stared at him, but the black-haired hunter’s expression remained unreadable. He gave no sign of joking.

A tense silence followed, broken only when a faint chuckle escaped his lips.

“More like twenty minutes,” he clarified, his tone lighter now.

[Y/N] looked equally relieved and offended.

“You—” she started indignantly, but her protest fizzled out as she realized the tension from earlier had completely dissipated. He’d gotten her good.

“For a moment, you really had me,” she admitted, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. Deciding not to dwell on it, she pushed herself to her feet.

Her sudden movement alarmed Jin-Woo, who instinctively readied himself to catch her if she fell.

“You should rest a bit longer,” he advised as she stretched.“I’m fine,” she assured him, rolling her shoulders experimentally. She seemed to be testing for any lingering pain but found none.

Still, she was a little surprised by his concern for her well-being.

Jin-Woo observed her closely, but there were no visible signs of exhaustion. If she said she was fine, that was good enough for him. The sooner he could return home, the better. Jinha was planning to stay with Song Yi until he got back, but he didn’t want to leave her alone for too long.

Without a word, he stepped forward, picked up his rolled-up coat, and, with a swift motion, shook it out and slipped it back on.

[Y/N] watched him from the corner of her eye. That’s right… her head had been resting on something soft. Had it been his coat? Why was he being so kind? Did he have an ulterior motive?

A brief, skeptical glance—before she let out an almost imperceptible sigh. This man…he confused her.

 Her thoughts drifted back to the dream. Just moments ago, it had been so vivid in her mind, yet now the voice that had spoken to her—the voice that had warned her—was already fading.

Only the lingering terror, the icy grip that had shot through her veins before she woke up, remained like a faint veil over her heart.

Speaking of which… heartbeat?

Almost instinctively, she placed a hand over her chest.

A quiet but powerful rhythm pulsed against her palm.

Ba-dump.

[Y/N] froze. She hadn't noticed it. She was sure that it wasn't there when Jin Woo had made her a Shadow Solidier.

The sensation was foreign, impossible. Shadows didn’t have heartbeats. They didn’t have warmth, breath, or anything remotely human. And yet—

Ba-dump.

It was there. Steady. Real. Hers.

A strange warmth spread through her chest, chasing away the ever-present emptiness she hadn’t even realized was there. It wasn’t just an echo or an illusion. It was life.

Her fingers trembled as she pressed harder against her ribs, almost afraid the sensation would disappear, that it was just another trick of this strange existence she found herself in. But no—the beat remained. A quiet, steady thrum that resonated through her entire being.

She had never thought about it before, never questioned what it truly meant to be. But now, with each pulse, she felt something awakening inside her. Something terrifying. Something human.

“I couldn’t hear it before,” Jin-Woo admitted suddenly, her mind went back to reality.

[Y/N] turned her head toward him, realizing only now that he had already turned back to face her.

Jin Woo had first noticed it the moment she lost consciousness.

At first, he thought he had imagined it—the faint, rhythmic sound that pulsed through the silence. It had been so unexpected, so wrong, that he almost dismissed it entirely.

But as the minutes passed, he realized it was real. A heartbeat. Slow, steady, and undeniably there.

Shadows didn’t have heartbeats. He knew that better than anyone. None of his soldiers had ever shown signs of life beyond the mana that sustained them. No breath, no warmth, no pulse. And yet, the moment she collapsed, hers had become unmistakable.

Even now, half an hour later, the memory of it lingered in his mind, gnawing at his thoughts. He had checked so many times before, searching for any trace of what made her different. There had been nothing. Just an empty void where mana should be.

She was just as confused as he was.

He saw it in the way her fingers curled against her chest, the way her eyes widened as if she could hardly believe it herself. The moment realization dawned on her, when she pressed her palm to her ribs and felt—he didn’t miss the look on her face.

Amazement. Disbelief. Something close to fear. She wasn’t supposed to have a heartbeat. But she did. And neither of them knew what it meant.

“Oh,” [Y/N] muttered.

Before she could spiral into overthinking, the black-haired man abruptly cut her off.

Jin Woo watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. He could see the questions forming in her mind, the way her brows knit together, lost in thought. But he wasn’t about to let that happen. Not again.

“We can think about it later,” he said, his voice firm. “For now, we move.”

The last time she had gotten too caught up in her thoughts, the system had punished her without mercy. And as much as he tried to ignore it, something about the way her face contorted in pain didn’t sit right with him.

A bit confused by how quickly he had dismissed the topic, [Y/N] simply nodded and followed the Shadow Monarch through the open archway leading further into the depths.

Blue crystals shimmered along the ceiling, their soft glow the only source of light in the vast darkness.

The dim blue radiance bathed the cavern in an eerie, dreamlike glow. [Y/N] had spent so much time enveloped in darkness that the sight of the glowing crystals stirred something warm within her. She stopped for a brief moment, simply taking in the beauty before her.

“They’re beautiful,” she murmured in quiet fascination.

Jin-Woo glanced at her, then followed her gaze to the crystals above.

Beautiful?

To him, this was nothing new—nothing special. Just another cave, another dungeon. Something he had long stopped paying attention to.

But now, as his gray eyes took in the sight through her perspective, he noticed it too.

The soft blue light guiding them through the shadows, the gentle pulse of magic within the crystals—it was almost… mesmerizing.

The mana they radiated was tangible, yet he hadn’t acknowledged it in ages.

Endless raids, constant battles, and the relentless pursuit of strength had occupied his mind for so long that he had forgotten how surreal all of this truly was. As a child, he had devoured fantasy novels, enchanted by their worlds. Now, he was living in one.

The brutality, the fights, the title of Shadow Monarch—it had all consumed him, leaving little room for anything else.

For just a fleeting second—a single heartbeat—his lips twitched upward. Then, he averted his gaze and continued forward, [Y/N] close behind.

This time, the silence between them wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It was peaceful.

[Y/N] didn’t know how or why, but she felt as if she understood him just a little better.Earlier, she had caught a glimpse—just a spark—of the person behind the mask he wore. There was more to him than the cold, detached demeanor he projected. His earlier fury had been just a drop in the ocean, yet it was proof enough that he still had humanity left in him. Something [Y/N] hadn’t been so sure about at first.

Slowly but surely, the cavern around them began to change.

The clusters of glowing crystals became sparser, the once-close walls expanded outward, and the ceiling stretched higher and higher—until it vanished into the shadows above, beyond sight. The moment the scenery shifted, [Y/N] felt it too. Her sense of calm wavered.

Whether it was instinct or something more supernatural, she couldn’t tell.

But her body reacted before her mind could even process it—before Jin-Woo himself showed any signs of noticing.

His eyes followed her precise movements as she leaped, effortlessly kicking the three monstrous spiders that had dropped from the ceiling, sending them flying several meters away. Suddenly, he sensed her mana flare up—the aura surrounding her.

It wasn’t much, but not because she lacked it. No, she had perfect control.

She used only as much as she needed, with no wasted energy, no unnecessary exertion. This level of mana control was difficult even for high-ranking Hunters, a clear indication that she had to be strong.

His eyes widened—surprised, yet impressed. Suddenly, she seemed far less helpless, more assured in her actions, more certain of herself.

[Y/N] landed almost soundlessly in Front of Jin-Woo, her eyes narrowed into slits as she glared at the spiders that had recovered and now hissed aggressively.

“How dare you,” she hissed, her voice laced with contempt.

She couldn’t explain where this feeling came from, but the moment she sensed Jin-Woo was in danger—even though he could have easily handled the attack—it was as if something primal had ignited within her.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, not a thought she had formed—it had simply been there. A deep-seated instinct coursing through her entire being, as if it was an inherent part of her existence.

Jin-Woo was strong—stronger than anything she could imagine. He didn’t need protection. And yet, she felt it in every fiber of her being—that she had to safeguard him. It wasn’t just a reflex. It was something bigger, more powerful—an unshakable certainty that she would stand between him and any danger, no matter the cost. She had no choice.

Jin-Woo, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her tone, the coldness in her voice, now found himself staring at the back of her head. He was used to his shadows protecting him when he summoned them, when he commanded them to. But her?

He studied her with a calm expression, but for a brief moment, he paused. It wasn’t the act of protection that surprised him—that was the nature of a shadow. But the way she did it was different.

He clearly remembered how she had challenged him at the start, how little she had seen herself as part of his army. And now? She was standing in Front of him, protecting him from monsters without hesitation.

He said nothing, showed nothing—but deep down, he was taken aback.

[Y/N] readied herself to intercept the next attack.

She didn’t know why or how, but she knew exactly what to do. As if the knowledge and movements were buried deep within her, as if her body instinctively remembered how to fight.

The spiders weren’t particularly strong, but the fact that they had gone unnoticed until the last second suggested they had some sort of mana-suppressing ability.

Within five minutes, [Y/N] had dispatched the three monsters, her movements graceful yet deadly, effortless.

When she was done, she turned to Jin-Woo, who had been silently watching her with wide eyes. Her [E/C] irises gleamed.

“Are you planning to take root there?” she teased, an amused smirk on her lips as she took in his stunned expression. A deep sense of satisfaction settled within her—she had caught him off guard, even if only slightly. Then, without another word, she turned and walked ahead.

Jin-Woo blinked before sighing in defeat. This woman…

“Wait.”

His voice made her pause mid-step. She turned her head slightly. “Hmm?”

Jin-Woo stepped closer, scrolling through his inventory, searching for something suitable.

“This should do,” he murmured when something caught his attention.

A long, blue-white dagger materialized in his hand, crackling with electric-blue sparks.

The intricate engravings were elegant, the blade sharp and expertly crafted.

“Try it,” he said, his gray eyes lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary, catching the flicker of uncertainty. He wasn’t sure if she could use it properly, but he was curious—just how strong was she?

“Here,” he said, handing her the weapon. [Y/N] accepted it, the cool metal feeling lighter than expected.

A small, transparent window popped up the moment she gripped the dagger, and a surge of mana coursed through her body. Her stats increased.

[Baruka’s Dagger]

Rarity: A-Rank

Type: Dagger

Attack +110

Agility +10

After a moment of hesitation, she stepped away from Jin-Woo, putting some distance between them—just in case she accidentally hit him or something.

She held the dagger in her dominant hand, the hilt fitting snugly in her palm. It felt right.

[Y/N] inhaled deeply, positioning herself to test the weapon.

She felt a pulse beneath her fingertips, as if the dagger itself anticipated serving her.

Jin-Woo watched. Maybe she was fast, but weapon expertise? He had his doubts.

[Y/N] focused her mana flow, channeling it into the weapon. The dagger pulsed with her energy, the blade glowing, emitting a bright white light that illuminated the cavern. The electricity and power in the air were palpable as she lunged forward, slicing through the air with precision.

The gust from her movements sent ripples through Jin-Woo’s cloak, strands of his hair shifting as the intense light reflected in his eyes.

[Y/N] felt the power with every swing, the effortless energy release. It felt natural—almost instinctual, as if she had done this all her life.

When she landed, there was a moment of silence and darkness before the slashes she had unleashed struck the cave walls in delayed succession, carving deep gashes into the solid rock.

She followed up with a few less forceful strikes, adjusting to the weapon’s feel.

Jin-Woo’s eyes widened.

This sensation… It reminded him of when he had first sent Igris into battle. Back then, the Blood-Red Commander had been stronger than him—his sheer power had left Jin-Woo in awe. It was the same now.

A slight concern flickered in his mind. Her strength… It was impressive, but it could also be dangerous. Her power, combined with her own will, could become a serious issue down the line.

But in that moment, all of that was forgotten when she suddenly turned to him, her eyes shining bright with Joy.

"Well?" she asked, a look of innocence on her face. Her voice was a few octaves higher than before, playful and slightly triumphant.

Her [E/C]-colored eyes glowed, reflecting the newfound fire within her.

"Not bad," he commented, his voice unchanged.

As [Y/N] wondered if that was all he had to say, Jin Woo found himself thinking about whether he should have her face off against Igris. Who was stronger between the two of them?

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when an heavy, suffocating presence washed over them, thick with dark energy.

The mana radiating from it was almost unlike anything [Y/N] had ever felt—disturbing, almost oppressive. It crawled under her skin, a constant pressure against her chest as if the very essence of it was clawing at her insides, her instincts screamed that she was not ready to face such power.

Her body froze for a moment.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, a shiver running down her spine. She felt small, vulnerable, and weak against such overwhelming power. No matter how strong she was, this—this wasn’t a fight she could win. The boss radiated an aura so fierce, so ancient, it felt like it could crush her with a single thought.

Every fiber of her being screamed to pull away, to run from this nightmare. But as she turned her gaze toward Jin Woo, she saw him, unwavering, his eyes sharp with bloodlust.

His energy shifted, growing darker, more predatory.

There was no fear in his movements, his gaze—just hunger, a thirst for battle that pulsed through him like a second heartbeat.

“We go,” he commanded, his voice calm yet brimming with anticipation, as if the challenge only fueled his desire for the fight.

Her body resisted, every instinct telling her not to go. But something invisible, something deeper than logic or reason, rooted her in place. The bond between them, something inexplicable, dragged her forward despite her hesitation. She couldn't explain it, but it was undeniable. The pull to stay beside him, to not let him face this alone, was stronger than the fear clawing at her.

Because the truth was, this was nothing compared to the presence of the dark and oppressing Aura of the real Shadow Monarch himself. That had been power beyond imagination, and it was with that feeling, that bond, that she could now face this lesser darkness. Even in the face of this monster, she did not falter, why should she be afraid now?

*

"Are you ready?"

The Shadow Monarch's eyes flicked down to [Y/N], who hid her uncertainty behind a mask, but it didn’t escape him. Her unease was palpable, a quiet tension in the air between them.

His hands gripped the handle of the wooden door firmly, marking the entrance to the boss room. The door was made of aged wood, worn by time, and intricate runes glowed around the frame, pulsating with mana in the cracks.

"Mhm," she nodded, her voice soft but resolute. Nothing to be done now—she had to go through with it...

Jin Woo wasn’t overly worried. He trusted his own abilities and the strength of his shadows, but he could still feel her discomfort, see how her hand tightened around the hilt of her dagger, as though it alone might somehow shield her.

"If things get too dangerous, you’ll vanish," he said, his voice calm but firm. The words made [Y/N] look up at him in confusion.

"Wha—" she began, but Jin Woo cut her off, already swinging the door open. It creaked loudly, the sound echoing through the still air, revealing the ominous darkness that lay beyond.

(I heard this Song while writing the next part, so it might be epic to listening to it while reading :) )

Seated upon a grand, imposing throne carved from dark stone, a figure was draped in tattered, shadowy robes that flowed like liquid darkness to the floor, merging almost seamlessly with the fractured marble beneath.

The boss's skeletal frame was both eerie and majestic, its most striking feature being a large deer skull with prominent antlers. The skull was bleached white, contrasting sharply with the deep black of his cloak, and its hollow eye sockets glowed faintly with an ethereal blue light. Arcane symbols pulsed faintly across the figure's chest and arms, carved into its skeletal structure, glowing with the same blue energy that crackled in the air around it.

The surroundings were equally haunting. The chamber was vast, with towering stone pillars reaching up to a vaulted ceiling, dimly illuminated by the pale blue light radiating from the boss. The walls were adorned with ancient runes and faded murals, depicting scenes of forgotten battles.

The air was thick with the hum of lingering mana, the atmosphere was oppressive, filled with a sense of both awe and dread. Behind the throne, a massive circular sigil glowed intensely, its complex patterns pulsing with otherworldly energy, suggesting that it might have been the source of the boss's power—or perhaps a seal that kept something even worse at bay.

Every step echoed ominously, and the temperature seemed to drop the closer one approached the throne.

This boss was not just a guardian; it was a remnant of a forgotten era, a being whose very existence defied the natural order, and challenging it meant confronting something even more powerful than the Architect himself.

Flanking him on both sides stood a hundred skeletal soldiers, each clad in decayed armor and bearing skulls of various beasts—wolves, bears, birds, and more. Their empty eye sockets glowed faintly, and they remained perfectly still, like statues awaiting their master's command. The air hummed with the quiet threat of violence, as if the entire army could spring to life at his slightest gesture.

Even though his soldiers had no eyes, both [Y/N] and Jin Woo could clearly feel their gazes. Above their heads hovered a window that displayed their race in bright orange.

[Aeternus’s Soldiers]

Aeternus was the name floating above the huge stag skull, deep red in color. Was he really stronger than Jin Woo himself?

"Enter."

The deep voice of the being pierced [Y/N] to the core, and Jin Woo also felt the vibration that ran through his body as his feet automatically carried him forward, closely followed by his shadow companion, who stayed close by his side.

If the creature had truly wanted to kill them, it would have never allowed them to feel its immense aura in the first place. At least that was Jin Woo’s thought as he reached the center of the room and looked up at the large figure.

[Y/N], on the other hand, watched with wide eyes as the door behind them closed, and some of the animal skull soldiers took position in front of it.

Jin Woo stood tall, eyes narrowing at the figure before him. His shadows rippled, ready to surge forward at a moment’s notice, but his senses screamed that something beyond mere power stood before him.

This wasn’t a typical monster; this was something ancient, something that could not be controlled by his usual methods.

Beside him, [Y/N] instinctively took a step back, her eyes wide with unease. Her heartbeat, still strange to her, pounded in her chest.

The Creatures gaze shifted toward them, his eyes—if they could be called eyes—glowed with a deep, haunting light, the same light that seemed to blink through the blackness of a dying forest.

He tilted his head slightly, as if curious about their very existence.

“You are not one with the cycle,” the Creatures voice echoed, a strange blend of the whisper of leaves in the wind and the crack of old bones breaking.

Jin Woo’s eyes flashed with determination, his eyes shimmering purple.

 “I don’t need to be part of any cycle. I control my own path.”

The Creatures lips curved slightly, but the smile was not warm.

“The King of Shadows, yes… but you, too, are bound to the cycle, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. Everything that breathes, grows, dies, and decays is part of this endless flow. Sooner or later”

 And yet, it was undeniably Jin Woo who seemed to disrupt this flow – by turning the dead into his soldiers, giving their souls a second chance. Something that was not accounted for in this perfect system.

[Y/N] stepped forward, this whole Conversation didn’t feel right. Her voice was sharp, as she placed herself by Jin Woo’s side again, even as her instincts screamed to retreat.

“We’re not here for your philosophies. Who are you?”

The Creature looked at her then, the flicker of interest crossing his ethereal face. “You, too, are caught between two worlds,” he said softly, “neither dead nor alive, a curiosity, an aberration. And yet…” He studied her, his gaze piercing, like he could see into the very fabric of her being, “you are something more.”

Jin Woo's eyes also darted toward the young woman. He would have preferred to tear the monster to pieces, but what it said held too much truth... He knew something.

"I am Aeternus," he began, his voice a deep, resonant echo that seemed to reverberate through the very walls. "I am the Monarch of the Eternal Cycle—life and death in an endless dance. I exist between what is born and what dies, overseeing the boundless rhythm of this world's existence. My purpose... is to maintain balance. To ensure that life gives way to death, and death makes way for life, forever and always."

He paused, his glowing, skull-like eyes narrowing as he regarded Jin Woo and [Y/N] with a calculating gaze.

Jin Woo’s gaze hardened as Aeternus’s words hung in the air. His mind raced, trying to process the weight of what had just been revealed. It wasn’t fear that gripped him—no, he was beyond that. But there was a quiet unease, a flicker of uncertainty he hadn’t felt in a long time. A Monarch? Why didn’t the Architect showed him more of the Past and what happened back then?

[Y/N] stood frozen, her body tense as the words of the Monarch reverberated in her mind. The weight of what Aeternus had said settled over her like a thick fog, suffocating her thoughts. She had always known that her existence was strange—an enigma even to herself—but hearing Aeternus speak of it, as if it were a mere fact of the universe, made something in her gut twist uncomfortably.

Her [E/C] eyes flickered between Jin Woo and Aeternus, trying to grasp the magnitude of the situation, but the overwhelming sense of being utterly out of her depth washed over her.

For a moment, her legs felt weak, and she instinctively stepped closer to Jin Woo, as if his presence could shield her from the unknown. The bond she shared with him flared, an invisible thread that anchored her in a world that suddenly felt too vast, too uncertain. The bond was stronger than ever before, but it wasn’t enough to silence the unease creeping into her heart.

“You tread a dangerous path, child of neither life nor death,” the Monarch continued, his voice deepening with a subtle menace. “There are those who wish to keep such as you from the world of the living and the dead. You would be better off not interfering with the cycle.”

Jin Woo took a step forward, a hint of challenge in his posture.

“You may control something that’s in between life and death, but you don’t control me.” His voice was ice, sharp and unwavering.

The Monarch didn’t falter, his creepy smile deepened, a flash of cruelty hiding beneath his fair words. “I am the one who ensures that the cycle never ceases, Shadow Monarch. You, and your companion, may fight it as you will, but you are not beyond it.''

He paused for a Moment.

“I will offer you a choice.”

The monstrous figure on the throne shifted, the bones of countless creatures grinding together as he leaned forward slightly, his gaze pinning both Jin Woo and [Y/N]. His long index finger pointing at his Shadow.

 “Leave this place with no harm, no consequence, but in exchange for that freedom... you must leave her behind.”

He paused for a second.

“She is an anomaly, something that should not exist within the natural order. Her existence is an affront to the Cycle, an error that needs to be corrected. She is your companion, I can see that. But it is clear, even to you, that her life means far less than yours in the grand scheme of things.”

[Y/N] felt the sting of Aeternus’s words, but it wasn’t the insult that hit her hardest—it was the sudden clarity that flashed through her mind.

The Monarch of the Eternal Cycle was right, in a way.

She wasn’t part of any natural order, just a glitch, a result of something beyond even her understanding.

Her entire existence was unnatural.

She couldn’t blame Aeternus for seeing her as expendable.

In that moment, she found herself strangely calm, accepting the harsh reality of what she was. If Jin Woo chose to leave her behind for his own survival—after all, she was just an anomaly, a thing that didn’t belong—it made sense. She’d never been a person of great worth, never been destined for something more.

[Y/N] lowered her gaze slightly, her fingers clutching her dagger more tightly, almost as if to brace herself. She wasn’t even sure if she’d be upset if he chose to leave. Wouldn’t that be the wisest decision? Wouldn’t it be the easiest choice to make?

But the moment Jin Woo spoke, his voice sharp and unwavering, she knew he had made his decision.

“I refuse”

Jin Woo said, his eyes narrowing, not once leaving Aeternus's towering figure. His voice was firm, unyielding. “Betraying her isn't an option. Not for me. I will not leave her behind.”

[Y/N] blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. She raised her head slightly to look at him, her heart pounding in her chest. Had he really said that? Had he just rejected the chance to walk away, unscathed, simply for her sake?

There was no hesitation in his voice, no signs of doubt. He wasn’t considering the price; he wasn’t even weighing it. Even if this was a greater Threat than the Spiders. [Y/N] hat thrown herself in Front of him, without knowing if she could fight or not.

Loyalty is a two-way street. If he was receiving it from her, then she would get it from him as well.

Her chest tightened, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. But before she could speak, before she could thank him or protest, the air around them thickened with an oppressive force, the very presence of Aeternus growing heavier.

“I see…” Aeternus murmured, a dark smile spreading across his skull-like face. “A Monarch of Shadows with more honor than I expected. But know this, Jin Woo… choosing her means choosing your death. You’ve made your choice. Now, stand and face the consequences.”

Jin Woo didn't flinch. His eyes were locked onto Aeternus’s, a determination burning in them that would not be extinguished.

,,Arise‘‘

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ꨄ︎ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

✿ Wow next time we will get sum serious fighting shit, i hope i will be able to write it well! Huge Challenge for me tbh. Let me know what you think! ☽

Thanks for all reblogs, likes & comments.'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*' ˋ°•*⁀✎ 𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑎

[moonlightdreamzz]

Form of You — ENHYPEN.

🎧 ➤ Form of You by Kehlani

SUMMARY. A peek into the unforgettable moment they realize their love for you is more than a feeling—it’s a transformation, a blessing, and the start of something eternal.

HEESEUNG

Heeseung didn’t know why he’d been so fixated on it. The practice was over, the cameras had long been turned off, and the team had already packed up for the night. But there he was, sitting in front of the mirror, staring at the same reflection that had been tormenting him for the last few hours. He could see the tiny imperfections—the slight misstep during the routine, the small moment of hesitation during his solo. He’d replayed them over and over, picking apart every detail, as if the world would end if he didn’t get it perfect.

You had been quiet at first, watching him from across the room, knowing exactly what he was doing. He’d always done this—pushed himself until he was almost unrecognizable, until every mistake felt like it was a reflection of something much bigger. Heeseung could be so hard on himself, and you hated it.

You hadn’t said anything until now, until you walked up behind him, gentle footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. He didn’t hear you approach, didn’t feel your presence until your voice broke the silence.

“You know,” you say softly, the words almost hesitant at first, “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Heeseung’s gaze flickers briefly to you in the mirror, but his eyes quickly dart away, unable to meet yours. He didn’t need to hear it—he already knew what he had done wrong. But you, ever so patient, stood there, watching him, waiting.

“I mean,” you continue, your voice warmer, “you were amazing out there. Really.”

The way you said it was different than the usual praise. It wasn’t just another compliment, a passing remark meant to make him feel better. It was genuine, and he could hear the sincerity in your voice. You could tell that something had been eating at him, that he wasn’t okay with what he had done. And yet, you still saw it differently.

Heeseung tries to brush it off, shaking his head. “No, I messed up,” he mutteres, voice tight. “I’m not happy with it. I know I can do better.”

But instead of walking away, instead of letting him retreat into his self-doubt, you step closer, your hand gently placing itself on his shoulder. The warmth of your touch spread through him, grounding him, and his breath caught as you leaned in slightly, your voice just above a whisper.

“You always do that,” you say, your tone soft but firm. “You’re always so hard on yourself, and it breaks my heart because I see it. I see how much you care, how much effort you put into everything you do. But… you don’t have to be perfect. You are so much more than that.”

Heeseung stays quiet, unable to respond, a lump forming in his throat. There was something about the way you looked at him, the way you saw him—not as a perfect idol, not as someone who had to measure up to impossible standards, but as him. Just him. The boy who could make mistakes and still be worthy of love.

Your fingers squeeze his shoulder gently, and his heart swells, the weight in his chest lifting just a little. He didn’t realize it then, but something inside him shifted. You were the only person who could see past the masks he wore, who could understand the pressure he put on himself, and yet still manage to love him completely.

“I just want you to know,” you add, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “that what you see as ‘not enough,’ I see as everything.”

And just like that, it hit him—a wave of warmth, of understanding, of love so deep he couldn’t deny it any longer. You saw him. Really saw him. And it wasn’t just in the moments where he was shining. It was in his mess, in his imperfections, in his flaws.

It was in everything.

Heeseung couldn’t say anything. There were no words that felt like they could match the way his chest had tightened, the way his heart beat louder in his ears. Instead, he turned to face you, his eyes soft with something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long: gratitude. And love.

He wasn’t perfect, not by any means. But you saw him as more than enough. And in that moment, Heeseung realized something he could never deny: he was utterly, irrevocably in love with you.

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon had been short with you all night, snapping at the smallest things. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; it was just that he was stressed, feeling the weight of everything on his shoulders, and he didn’t know how to let it out without pushing people away. He was so used to being the one in control, the one who handled everything with a cool composure, but tonight, something in him was fraying at the edges. He was sharp, irritated, and completely unaware of how his words were cutting through the air.

The worst part? You were letting it slide, smiling through it, being patient. But he could see the way your eyes would drop, the way you quietly withdrew when he brushed you off yet again. It wasn’t like you to let things go—usually, you were the one to call him out on his shit, to hold him accountable when he was being distant or cold. But tonight, you stayed quiet.

And that? That made him feel worse than anything else.

You finally stopped him as he was walking past you to the door, after he’d said something that stung more than it should have. His words were meant to be a defense against whatever was eating him inside, but they were coming out all wrong. You reached for his arm, stopping him mid-step.

“Sunghoon,” you say, your voice firm but steady. “Enough.”

It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a question. It was an ultimatum. The kind that cut through the facade he’d been holding up all night. He turned to face you, his eyes slightly narrowed, defensive as always.

“What?” he snaps, the edge in his voice a reflex more than a real desire to fight. He hated when you saw him like this—imperfect, struggling, frustrated.

“You think this is about you, don’t you?” you ask, your tone still calm, but there was a clear line of disappointment in it now. “You think just because you’re feeling bad, you can lash out at me and get away with it? That I’ll just keep taking it?”

Sunghoon opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off, taking a step closer, your gaze unwavering.

“You’re not the only one who’s been under pressure, Sunghoon,” you say softly, but firmly, your words cutting straight through him. “I’ve been patient, I’ve let you push me away when you’re like this. But you can’t keep treating me like I’m a punching bag every time something goes wrong in your life.”

He stands there, silent. You can see the way his jaw clenched, his pride rising, but there was something different in his eyes. Something that made him realize that this wasn’t about being called out, it was about being loved enough to be held accountable.

You step even closer, placing a hand on his chest, right over his heart. “I’m here for you, but I’m not going to let you take me down with your mood. If you’re upset, that’s fine, but you need to talk to me about it. Don’t shut me out, don’t make me feel like I’m the one in the wrong for just being here.”

Sunghoon stands frozen, the words you’d said washing over him. He’d expected to feel defensive, to brush it all off with some excuse. But the way you stand there, firm in your love, unshaken by his tough exterior, made something inside him unravel.

There’s no resentment in your voice. No bitterness. Just the raw honesty of someone who cared enough to not let him stay in a cycle of self-destruction.

For the first time, he didn’t want to run from it. He didn’t want to deflect. He didn’t want to keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. You weren’t scared of his walls. You weren’t afraid to knock them down.

And in that moment, he realized what he had been missing all his life—someone who loved him enough to show him the truth, to call him out, and to do it with the softness and strength that only you could offer.

He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours, his gaze softening in a way it never had before. He swallowed, trying to find his words, but he didn’t need to say anything. The look in his eyes said it all. He didn’t want to fight anymore.

He wanted to be better.

And it was because of you—because you weren’t going to settle for less than the person he could be.

JAY

Jay always thought he had to hold everything together, not just for himself, but for everyone around him. As the oldest, the reliable one, he’d grown used to carrying the weight—the pressure to be the backbone, the one who never cracked, who never needed help. He was the steady force, the person others could depend on. It felt like part of his identity.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why he was so afraid of feeling anything more. More weight, more responsibility, more expectations… more vulnerability.

He’d never let you see the cracks before. He’d been so careful, so calculated, so guarded with you, as if showing any sign of weakness would push you away. But tonight, as the two of you sat on the couch, he couldn’t help it. The fatigue, the stress from the past few weeks, everything he had been carrying suddenly felt too much.

The conversation had been simple at first, an idle chat about your day, but somewhere along the way, his mind wandered, his focus slipping. He barely heard your voice anymore, the words muffling beneath the weight of everything on his shoulders.

He hated that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was burning out—he wasn’t the kind of person who liked to admit that, even to himself. But he could feel it, deep in his chest. The exhaustion. The constant tension, always trying to be the best, to be enough.

And then, without warning, you stop talking. He glance over to find you watching him, quiet but intent, the softness in your eyes belying the quiet concern in your expression.

“Jay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been going non-stop lately… Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, brushing it off, but it wasn’t convincing. He could feel the sincerity in your words, the care that made it hard to keep pretending. He couldn’t let you see it. He couldn’t let anyone see how close he was to crumbling under the weight of his own expectations.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, his voice distant, barely masking the fatigue.

But you weren’t buying it. You were always able to see right through him. And you didn’t let it go.

Instead of pushing him, you simply slide closer on the couch. Without a word, you gently touch his arm, the warmth of your hand enough to make him freeze for a moment. The pressure in his chest seems to soften just slightly.

“Jay,” you repeat, this time with more assurance, “Let’s go for a walk. It’s okay. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

He wants to say no. To keep up the act. To refuse the comfort, the softness that you were offering him. He had always been the strong one, the one who didn’t ask for anything, especially not from you. But as you stood up and waited, patiently, the resistance in him began to melt.

It wasn’t just a walk. It was your way of saying you saw him. Not just the version of him that everyone else depended on, but the human part that was tired and overwhelmed, the part that needed someone to lean on.

You didn’t demand anything from him. No questions. No expectations. You simply offered him a moment of peace, a break from the weight of everything he carried.

You walk beside him in comfortable silence, your presence more soothing than any words could have been. When you reach the park, you don’t say anything, just sit beside him on the bench, your hand resting on his leg, a silent offer of support. And for the first time in a long time, Jay doesn’t feel the need to pull away.

For once, he didn’t have to be anything but himself—the tired, imperfect, vulnerable version of himself that he’d been hiding from everyone, including you.

You didn’t rush him. You just let him breathe.

And in that stillness, in the way you simply saw him, Jay felt something shift. The walls he’d built around himself, the pressure he had put on his shoulders, started to crumble. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a grand confession. But in the quiet, in the simplicity of the moment, Jay felt safe.

This—you, here beside him, offering nothing but understanding and acceptance—was everything he never knew he needed. You made him feel like it was okay to be human, to not always be the perfect, unshakable person everyone expected him to be.

For the first time, he allowed himself to just be.

And when your hand slips into his, warm and comforting, it was like a silent acknowledgment that he didn’t have to carry it all. Not anymore. Not with you by his side.

In this moment, Jay realizes what love truly was. It wasn’t about perfection or never needing help. It wasn’t about being strong for everyone.

It was about finding someone who would help carry the weight when it was too much to bear. Someone who would still love you, not for what you could do, but for who you were.

And in the silence that stretched between you two, Jay’s heart understood what his mind hadn’t fully admitted yet.

He was in love with you.

JAKE

Jake sank into the backseat of the car, the door clicking shut behind him. The noise of the event still buzzed in his head, but he wasn’t listening. He hadn’t really been listening to anyone all night. Not to the designers who praised him, not to the models who flirted with him, not even to the photographers who shoved cameras in his face.

His mind had been elsewhere.

He glanced over at you. You were staring out the window, the streetlights casting a soft glow across your face. He could see the way you were deep in thought, as if you were in your own world—one that didn’t need to be filled with the noise of other people. He’d never been able to get over how you were always so… different from everyone else. So calm. So present.

“How was it?” You asked, breaking the silence without looking at him. Your voice was gentle, curious—but never intrusive.

Jake sighed, settling back in his seat. “It was fine.” His voice lacked the usual enthusiasm, the usual charm. Instead, there was a distance in it—a quiet tension that you couldn’t ignore.

You turned toward him then, catching his eyes with an intensity that made his stomach flip. “You don’t look fine,” you said softly, your words wrapping around him like a warm blanket. “You look… like you’re somewhere else.”

Jake didn’t know why, but suddenly it felt hard to breathe. He had been on autopilot all night, pretending like he was fine, pretending like it didn’t matter. But it did. It mattered. It all mattered because none of it felt the same without you there.

He exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the seat. “I just kept thinking about how I couldn’t wait to get back here. Back to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smile that made his chest tighten. “Really?” you teased. “You’ve been thinking about me the whole time? Even with all those gorgeous women around?”

He looked at you, the weight of the night’s events finally hitting him. The models, the flashes, the adoration—none of it meant anything to him. You were the only thing that mattered. The only one who could make him feel seen.

“Yeah.” His voice was quieter now, more serious. “Because none of them… none of them are you.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “Jake…”

He swallowed, his chest tight. “I’ve been so caught up in all the noise, I forgot what really matters,” he admitted. “What really matters is you.” His eyes searched yours, raw and unguarded. “You make me feel like I can just be… myself. No pretending, no acting like I’ve got everything together.”

He reached across the seat, his fingers brushing yours with a quiet urgency. “I’m sorry I don’t always show it. But you—” He shook his head, as if trying to find the right words, “You make me feel like I’m enough. And I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart aching with the tenderness in his words. You had always seen him for who he truly was, not for the model or the persona everyone else adored. And somehow, just that—just being seen—was enough.

“You don’t need to be perfect, Jake,” you said softly. “You’re enough just as you are.”

Jake let out a breath, his chest loosening for the first time that night. He could feel his heart swelling, this quiet realization settling over him like a warm wave.

He leaned in then, his lips brushing against your temple in a slow, deliberate kiss. “I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, as if it was something he’d always known, but now, in this moment, he could finally say it.

And with that, something shifted inside him. The whole night had been a blur, but now it was crystal clear. He’d been living his life like he was waiting for something, something to make him feel whole. He hadn’t realized that you—the one person who saw him completely, flaws and all—were what he’d been waiting for all along.

SUNOO

It was supposed to be a peaceful evening. You and Sunoo had snuck away from the hustle of the group’s schedule for a late-night walk by the beach, just the two of you. The air was crisp, the stars above reflecting in the gentle waves. It felt like the world had slowed down just for a moment, and for the first time in a while, Sunoo was quiet.

But something was off. You could feel the tension in the way his steps slowed, in the way his eyes occasionally flicked toward you and then away, as though trying to hide something from view.

“Sunoo, what’s wrong?” you asked gently, your voice soft, not pushing him, but making sure he knew you were there.

He didn’t answer immediately, just kept walking. You matched his pace, walking a little slower, giving him space but not letting him retreat too far into his shell.

Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging, eyes staring at the sand beneath his feet. “I don’t know… I just feel like I’m not enough sometimes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves were too heavy to speak.

You stopped, bringing him to a halt as well. Your heart ached for him, for the vulnerability that he rarely showed, for the insecurities that ran deeper than he ever let anyone see. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, turning him to face you.

“Not enough?” you repeated, voice laced with disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking nervously. “I feel like I try so hard, but it’s never… it’s never enough. I feel like I’m always giving pieces of myself, but nothing ever fits together right. I’m always worried that one day, you’ll realize… that I’m just too much. Or not enough. I don’t know which one.”

Your heart hurt as you listened, realizing just how much weight he carried on his shoulders, how deeply he felt everything—even things you never realized he struggled with. He naturally wants to protect those he loved, but he also feels like he constantly had to prove his worth to be worthy of that love.

You stepped closer, cupping his face gently, forcing him to look at you. “Sunoo,” you said, voice steady but filled with warmth, “you’re not too much. And you’re certainly not too little. You’re more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough.”

His eyes were full of doubt, searching your face for the truth in your words, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. You could see the hesitation, the wall he put up to protect himself from disappointment.

“You’re allowed to be everything you are,” you continued, your voice strong yet tender. “You don’t have to hide behind your doubts or second-guess how much you mean to me. You don’t have to keep giving pieces of yourself away until there’s nothing left. You’re enough. And I see you. All of you. The sensitive, the caring, the playful, the serious, the beautiful mess that you are.”

Sunoo’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening. He had never heard someone speak to him like that—so sure, so unwavering in their love. His chest felt full, his heart racing as he tried to process it all. You weren’t just telling him words. You were showing him—through your actions, through the way you looked at him, through the way you held him in that moment—that he didn’t have to be anything more than himself. That he was already perfect in your eyes.

And that? That was the moment he realized, as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug so warm and genuine, that this was what love was supposed to feel like.

He wasn’t broken, he wasn’t too much. You loved him, truly, as he was, flaws and all. And that made everything—every worry, every fear, every insecurity—seem so small in comparison to the love you were offering him.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. He finally let himself melt into you, feeling the weight of all his uncertainties lift, if only for a moment. “I didn’t know I needed this. I didn’t know I needed you to remind me of this.”

You simply held him tighter, your heart full as you realized that in helping him see his worth, you had just given him the one thing he had been craving without knowing it: peace.

JUNGWON

Jungwon stared at the night sky through the large windows of the studio. The moon hung low, almost full, casting a cool light over the room. He felt distant, lost in the silence that stretched around him, even though you were there beside him.

It had been a long day—rehearsals, meetings, and constant chatter about the future. He’d always carried a certain weight on his shoulders, a sense of needing to stay ahead, to think ten steps ahead, to always know. Love, in all its forms, was something he had tried to push aside, telling himself that he couldn’t afford distractions. He was too focused on his purpose, too concerned with what came next to even entertain the thought of anything real.

But there you were, sitting on the couch next to him, your presence warm and steady in contrast to the storm brewing in his mind.

He shifted his gaze toward you, noticing the way your hands rested in your lap, your eyes soft as you watched him. There was no expectation, no pressure from you. Just… acceptance.

Jungwon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Why are you always so calm?” he finally asked, his voice low, though the question was not directed at you so much as it was an observation of how he felt. You were the stillness to his storm, and that contrast was something he never understood before.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m with you.”

He felt a flutter in his chest at your words, but there was an uncertainty there too. He wasn’t used to this kind of reassurance. He wasn’t used to someone seeing him the way you did, without needing anything from him but himself.

The truth was, he’d never let himself believe that love could find him. He had always been the observer, the thinker, the one who kept his emotions at arm’s length. People had always seemed like an abstraction to him—distant, not for him. But you? You were real. You saw him in ways he never let anyone else.

The hesitation in his heart welled up, and he found himself speaking the words that had been gnawing at him, the words he never allowed himself to voice.

“Do you ever think maybe… love just isn’t meant for me?” Jungwon’s voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a vulnerability in it, one he couldn’t hide anymore.

You paused, your expression softening as you leaned forward, closing the distance between you. “What makes you say that?”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze falling to his hands as he thought about how to explain it. “I don’t know. I’ve always been… different. I’ve spent so much time thinking, analyzing… I’ve kept people at a distance because I thought I had to. I thought love was just a thing people talked about but never really had.” His voice faltered, his words quieter now. “And then you came along, and I—”

He stopped himself, not knowing how to finish the thought, but the look in your eyes was enough. You didn’t need him to finish. You understood.

“Love doesn’t just show up when it’s convenient,” you said, your voice soft but firm, laced with warmth. “It finds you when you least expect it. When you’re ready to accept it for what it is.”

Jungwon’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at you, that familiar feeling of being seen swelling inside him. It was something he hadn’t even realized he craved.

“You’re telling me that I was just waiting for it to find me?” he asked, the disbelief coloring his words.

You smiled, your gaze gentle, but with a knowing intensity that cut through his doubt. “I think love finds us when we stop fighting it. When we stop trying to control it, when we let ourselves be who we really are.”

His chest tightened at the sincerity in your voice. He didn’t realize it, but his walls had already started to crumble the moment you entered his life. And now, in this stillness, it became clear—he hadn’t been searching for love because he hadn’t known how to let it in.

He reached for your hand without thinking, his thumb brushing gently over your fingers. His heart pounded, the weight of the moment sinking in. You were here with him, and for the first time, he wasn’t afraid to feel.

“Who sent you here for me?” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, an echo of his disbelief.

You didn’t say anything at first, simply squeezing his hand in yours. But in that simple gesture, he felt the truth. You didn’t need to speak for him to understand—he hadn’t been waiting for love to find him. He had been waiting for you.

NIKI

Niki had always carried a quiet weight. A constant longing for home—his family, the food, the familiar streets of Japan. There were moments when the loneliness hit him harder than others, especially when the world outside seemed so loud and busy, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the peace of his hometown.

He never said anything about it. He wasn’t the type to show his vulnerability. He was strong, resilient, and dedicated. But there were days when his eyes would grow distant, his smile a little smaller. And you noticed.

You’d heard him mention the small things he missed—the taste of his mother’s cooking, the scent of the ocean, the sound of the streets in the morning. Little things that seemed trivial to others, but to Niki, they were home.

So, when you invited him to your apartment one evening, you’d made sure to do something extra special. You didn’t say anything, but you had prepared a Japanese dish, something he hadn’t had in months. You’d gotten the ingredients from a local market, knowing exactly what to make.

When he walked in, he was met with the smell of something familiar—something that brought him back home, if only for a moment. His eyes widened in surprise, and his lips parted slightly as he took in the scent of miso soup, sushi, and rice.

You smiled softly at him from the kitchen. “I thought you might like it,” you said, your voice gentle, knowing how much it meant.

He stepped forward, his gaze still lingering on the food, his chest tightening. He didn’t know how to put it into words, but the warmth that rushed over him wasn’t just from the food—it was from the thought behind it. The care you’d put into making him feel at home when he hadn’t even asked for it.

“I… I didn’t expect this,” he said quietly, almost as if the words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his heart racing with something unfamiliar.

You shrugged lightly, not wanting to make it a big deal. “You’ve mentioned it before, and I thought it would be nice. I’m happy to make it for you.”

But he wasn’t looking at the food anymore. He was looking at you. There was a softness in his gaze that he hadn’t shown before—a tenderness that was so raw and real, it made his heart ache.

Niki stepped closer, still speechless, before pulling you into a gentle embrace. He was young, unaccustomed to the feeling of love, but this moment—the kindness, the care, the thoughtfulness—you had given him, was more than he ever imagined.

“I never thought… I never thought I could feel this way,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think anyone has ever done something like this for me.”

You pulled back just slightly to look into his eyes. There was a depth there now, something he hadn’t let others see before. “Well, I guess you deserve it,” you said softly, your thumb brushing the side of his face.

“I didn’t think I needed it,” Niki continued, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “But now… now I don’t know how I ever lived without it. Without you.”

And in that moment, Niki realized—this was love. This was what it meant to be cared for in a way that was so real, so effortless, that it left him speechless. It wasn’t just the gesture. It was you. You, who saw him when no one else did. You, who made him feel like he wasn’t so far from home.

You were his home now. And he’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

[occamstfs]

Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes

Been holding out on some kinda Video Game trigger, here's a bit of an odd Russian cultural/racial TF, enjoy! -Occam

Michael could stand to be a more pleasant person. Day to day he is a pretty run of the mill head-down kinda guy, amicable but never really goes out his way to chat or make friends. Instead he finds his free time often used to prowl the internet looking for people to torment online in whatever way he finds funny at the moment. Born too late to be a goon on SomethingAwful he typically pages through Reddit threads and communities looking for someone sensitive or cartoonishly argumentative.

This is precisely where he finds himself tonight, being a pedant on some video game thread that he doesn’t truly care about. Some presumably Russian user, u/ZandrIvnov, seems to be quite proud of Tetris which Michael finds incredibly amusing. As an American he too takes pride in many of the cultural exports and ideas that his nation has sent into the world, including many of the deeply entrenched ideas about the Russian and Soviet people taught in world history. It takes especially little for him to decide to start taunting and baiting this man sitting at his keyboard a world away.

Michael launches petty taunts at the Russian, poking fun at his nationality and Eastern Europe at large, stopping short at making fun of the man’s less than perfect English, for now at least. Michael switches between accounts to upvote his responses and even add additional dunks on the Tetris-fan as needed. Try as he might though to get the conversation away from the ancient game and get some more personal and profane digs in there he finds it difficult to find any truly satisfying or clever insults.

Getting tired of hearing this man assert Russian superiority he prepares to pull the ripcord and move on before he sees the Russian misstep talking about the game he’s so invested in, as probably the only fun fact he has on deck comes to mind. After the Russian so eloquently compares Michael’s head to a Tetris piece Michael immediately replies, “okay lol big fan huh they’re actually called tetrominoes” and then moves on to find some other doofus to bully on the internet.

On the other side of the screen Sasha seethes at the man, so juvenile in his mockery “Проклятые американцы. (Fucking Americans.)” He takes to his own keyboard messaging Michael directly as his arrogant messages dry up in the thread proper, Sasha was going to have him put his money where his mouth was. He offers a challenge, “u americans are so proud da? how about we see whos country rly is the best”

Michael felt his pulse rise in excitement at how much he has truly bothered this man. Smug smile on his face as he types his response, “what did u have in mind, Zander?”

“Саша(Sasha) is my name. since u are so smart about tetris, why not see who is actual master of game da?” Sasha offers, knowing already that the troll is sure to accept out of pride alone. Michael wasn’t all that much of a gamer but surely he could show this dweeb what’s what yeah? He starts looking up tips to win Tetris as he replies “sure whatever dude, what are u thinkin”

Sasha smirks as he has Michael right where he wants him, “loser agrees with winner about national superiority? should not be problem if you americans are so good at every thing” Michael was already eager to give it a go and Sasha’s taunt only makes him all the more raring to go. Before he can even pause his meager attempt to study strategy, Sasha sends over a link to the game and Michael clicks over to play, leaving the cheat sheet open on a second monitor. 

Michael types his name into the game and finds himself looking at a familiar screen. He’s never played the game competitively but it’s a pretty simple game right? He just needs to keep his cool once the pieces start flying in. He gets the cheeky idea to check the cheat sheet in between pieces. That’s that good-old red white and blue ingenuity, Michael thinks. Unaware that these are of course also of the Russian flag. There’s a ping from the board as Sasha uses the in game chat to ask “u understand the rules da”

Michael sends back a thumbs up and Sasha sets the game going. It is predictably uneventful at the beginning, neither man making any particularly interesting plays. Michael continues to skim how to best cheat the game while Sasha waits for the perfect moment to fuck him over. Michael finds himself enjoying the game more than he thought he would as he hears the familiar tune, it is awfully catchy isn’t it? He’s gotta hand it to the soviets for that. His gameplay slows down as he tries to speedread the page on his other monitor. Instead of forcing pieces quickly he instead lets them drift slowly while his board is relatively clear. Sasha sees this and decides to go in for the kill.

Suddenly as Michael’s eyes wander away from the game for just a second too long there is an unfamiliar sound. He darts his attention back only to see the floor of his Tetris board rocket up in response to Sasha doing an impossibly well timed combo of lines. Michael’s heartbeat increases at a shocking rate in response as losing becomes a very real possibility. Why is he so upset? His face grows red as he realizes just how outclassed he is. Obviously this is no big deal right? Just a game. But Michael cannot help but feel physically uncomfortable as the tides start to turn so swiftly. 

There is suddenly a crick in his neck that he stretches to avail but only exacerbates as a soreness begins to spread further across his body. Man is he tensing up too much? It’s just, it’s just a game right? Trying to calm down he is hit with the thought as if it were a shot of adrenaline that he absolutely cannot lose this game. His eyebrows furrow as they begin to square and thicken, casting dark shadows over his rage-filled eyes. His limbs take turns cramping as he clenches his neck and jaw to distract from the pane, not noticing as the structure of his face begins to change. 

His chest grows to join the chorus of muscle spasms as Michael struggles to keep up with even Sasha’s slower gameplay. Across the seas Sasha takes his time, knowing victory is in the bag, and savoring what he knows must be happening to his little troll Michael right now. He smirks as he imagines the discomfort in Michael’s changing body as he feels warmth grow in his own chest, and crotch, as he decides just how much he wants to play with his food. 

Back in the states Michael finds the heat, the sweat, the tightness of his clothes increasingly unbearable. As he continues to mash buttons on his remote he is too intent on the game to notice as hair begins to darken around his forearms and begin to snake its way towards his hands. He rubs them each down to placate the tickle on his growing arms. This is absolutely nothing to the creeping itch that is starting to encompass the entirety of his rapidly expansive legs. He shifts his heavier thighs trying to soothe the discomfort, making a loud sound as they pull away from the sweat sticking them to the chair but not allaying the soreness or itch in the slightest.

He grunts and notices not how his voice has grown both deeper and gruffer in his throat. Michael struggles to keep the remote from slipping out of his hands as sweat trickles down from his hairy arms and into his palms. Before it becomes a problem however Michael takes advantage of the lull in Sasha’s gameplay and tries to quickly remove his far too strained shirt. It should be a simple task after all, just put the remote down for a second, slide it off, and then back to the game. He does a brief check in to ensure he has even that and after believing he does Michael starts to try and remove the shirt strained and sticking to his skin.

He has precious little time as the pieces continue to fall at their set pace in game. He gets one hand under the hem of his shirt and tries to wrench it while keeping his other hand on the controller, this lets in a breeze of cold air sending quivers of pleasure across his pulsating muscle, as well as igniting a burning ache in his chest and torso. His upper body grows even further, finally overfilling his shirt as the sound of tears ring out in his bedroom alongside the same repetitive folk song he knows well. The idea that this shirt was loose fitting when he threw it on this morning or that he just identified the Tetris theme as a folk song rather than an 8-bit annoyance don’t have a chance to come to mind as he struggles to remain focused on not losing the game.

He pulls the shirt up to his chest before it gets uncomfortably stuck “Ach, bog uh- god damnit.” He scratches at his chest as the soreness and growing muscle makes way for a fiery prickling as the few chest hairs he has been a tad ashamed of begin to thicken and darken on his chest. Swirling out from his nipples and inching higher on his chest with each breath, he continues to struggle to remove himself mindlessly. Finding his shirt caught on his expansive pecs he rubs his hand underneath it across his sweaty chest, and finding it pleasurably drag through more hair on his pecs than he would’ve sworn he had in his pubes, he resolves to remove the shirt however he can. 

As soon as he finishes a line Michael tosses the remote down and goes to raise his shirt above his head, his thicker arms struggling as they adjust to their new range of motion. He wrests the tight shirt above his head, his chest bursting large once more, freed from the garment as the breeze tickles the sweat covered chest hair and forces his enlarged nipples to harden. Having overcome his suddenly massive pecs the neckline is now caught on his chin, his arms raised high above his head expose his pits to the cold open air. He feels the air con blow against his recently shaved pits as the hair begins to grow back. It starts to catch as the hair begins to grow thicker and longer than it had ever done before, curling together as new hairs begin to push out and form a bush thick enough to never see the skin beneath again.

This also brings his attention to new development in his body, with his face shoved into his shirt it would be impossible not to notice the unbecoming amount of sweat soaking it. Arms raised though he finally notices that he has an altogether far more powerful scent, on par with a macro-obsessed body builder or hygiene-phobic wild man. Michael feels a beard start to push out into the shirt still hugging his face. Shaving once a month was more than enough to keep him clean shaven but now he knew deep in his mind that he would never have a day again where his face would be smooth. It’s that Ru- That American blood in him, right?

He begins to feel himself lost in the scent as his mind begins to grow distracted, attention fading from the game despite the looping tune filling his mind. He turns his head to smell his pits through his shirt which is when he hears the dreaded sound of Sasha making a combo once more, “Gah! Nyo, I can’t lose” he shouts, not noticing as his rough tone begins to develop a slight accent. Ending the long-standing struggle against his shirt he simply rips it off and jumps for the controller, ashamed at how foolish and lustful he has suddenly found himself in the middle of this all-important competition.

He needs to make his people proud! He cannot let Amerika down, ya? His focus and vision return to the game as he stumbles through one more line before all the pieces fall from view and the game declares Sasha the winner. Mikael reflexively pounds his table shouting, “Ny- no! I, this!” struggling to find any words to make his loss okay. Unable to notice just how bizarre this game has affected him, though sure that something grave has occurred. He scrambles to the chat box where he sees Sasha has yet again beaten him to the punch, “gg Брат(brother) yes?”

Mikael’s eyes don’t even notice the language switch in the message as he quickly races to demand a rematch. Punching keys slower than the career-cyberbully is accustomed to, almost as if he would be more comfortable with a different keyboard format, slowly he punches his response “one more best dva out of tri ya?” Sasha laughs out loud seeing Mikael suddenly typing out anglicized Russian. He smirks and squeezes his crotch in excitement at just how far this American brat has fallen into his hands. Sasha responds in full Russian knowing that Mikael may as well already be his countryman. “конечно, почему бы и нет, брат (sure why not, brother)”

Mikael smiles as he prepares for yet another go against Sasha, he’s eager to learn from his, uh? Suddenly he can’t quite remember how he knows Sasha exactly as his memories of his persistent pathetic history of being a troll begins to fade from his mind. As the Tetris theme starts once more with the game Mikael finds himself singing along as the words to the folk song it is based on, blushing at the vulgarity therein.

The race is on once more and though he was sure this was a competition against his friend, no, his брат(brother), Sasha, He can’t help but feel a giddiness as the game progresses. He feels a warmth in his chest just from playing a game of his childhood, of his country? No he’s a born and bred statesman da? He’s from, uh Moscow is a city in one of the states too da? Though he finds himself distracted his body continues to expertly control the game subconsciously.

He blushes as he struggles to remember where he grew up, it was a smaller town for sure. Somewhere very far North for sure, after all why else would he grow so hairy! He launches into a hearty laugh as body hair continues to push out from every pore in his body, sure to be peaking out from every shirt collar on both sides. He scratches at his pubes as it becomes clear that even besides his massive package there will evermore be a bulge in his pants from this unkept jungle as well. 

His eyes continue to follow the pieces up and down as they slowly begin to lighten and bleach themselves an icy blue. The itchiness that has made itself at home through the whole of its body is replaced with a burning pleasure as he thinks oh his home. Full days where there is only sun, long treks into the city to visit St. Basil’s, helping his mother fry pirozhki. The hair atop his head bleaches itself a sandy blonde while still thickening and pulling itself short as a lightbulb goes off in his head his voice rumbles in his chest as he reflexively speaks in what must be his mother tongue, “Конечно! я спрошу у Саши (Of course! I’ll just ask Sasha).” 

He goes to pause the game as he now knows he can do and types to Sasha in chat, “hey брат, wher am i от again?” Sasha smirks at just how easy this was stopping short from fully masturbating as he thinks of his new massive countryman living a world away as he replies, “недалеко от Москвы, Миша (just outside of Moscow, Misha).”

Misha’s eyes glaze over as he reads this, the room around him changes, American flags familiar patterns shift into the Russian tricolor. Any writing within the room shifts from English to the cyrillic alphabet and Misha sits there with a smile as he recalls his home. Long winters working alongside his best friend Sasha. His neck thickens and his waist expands as he thinks of long nights drinking alongside his friends to abate the cold. The game of Tetris continues on and he again feels a warmth in his chest at the chance to play with his dearest Друг(friend) Sasha.

For the life of him he can’t quite remember why he has moved to Америки though he is sure that Sasha will know. Sasha always knows the right thing to do. One thing is for sure though, he is going to do his Motherland proud.

[aclikeairconditioning]

Since I wrote one for reverse verse Edwin, here’s one for Charles. Takes place in Hell, though nothing’s too graphic (still, be warned.)

I had to go through the torture of rereading/viewing this comic to write this (it wasn’t torture at all, this is one of my favorite @technically-human comics. Charles is so precious, and I almost cried while writing this and looking into his face at the same time.)

I will also add @i-am-as-normal-as-you-are because I forgot you last time. I’m very sorry, that was rude of me, I know this is your au too.

When I got to the end I realized that I was ending similarly to the way I ended Edwin’s, so I leaned into that and used the same wording.

(Ps. @technically-human, you have no idea how much of a euphoric adrenaline high your response gave me last time. Thank you so much, and happy belated birthday!)

-

Charles tripped.

Apparently, 70 years of practice became null and void when interrupted by three decades of peace. Safety. Home.

Charles tripped, and was immediately caught up in the storm of people running by, most of whom didn’t pay any attention to the sixteen-year-old struggling to get back up, to keep going, to not get caught.

Charles couldn’t even blame them. He would have, had in the past, done the same.

That didn’t make him less scared.

That wouldn’t make it hurt less when The Conductor eventually caught up to him.

He did manage to get up, though (a minor miracle on its own.) As he prepared himself to run again, get out as fast as he could, try to make up for lost time, a flash of blue in the corner of his eye gave him barely a moment's notice before he was being grabbed from behind.

His first instinct was to fight. To shove off whoever, or whatever, had grabbed him. Punch and claw and fight to leave the other behind in the dust as he got as far away as possible.

He would have, too. He would have, had it not been for the slightly panicked call of, “Found you!” in his ear, spoken in a voice he knew better than his own.

“Edwin!” The name came out more of a gasp, than Charles would have liked. “What are you doing here?”

Because he was here. God, Edwin Payne (just, devout, brilliant, Edwin Payne,) was here. In Hell. The one place that Charles thought he could protect him from, despite the others’ insistence to protect him (and the others newly added to the ranks of the Dead Boy Detectives.)

Edwin, who he had always thought believed, if only a little bit, that Charles deserved the torment he had been sent to.

Edwin, who was here-

“Protecting you, as always.”

Oh.

Oh.

He was here, because he really believed that Charles needed protecting. Who wanted to protect him, despite the Hell forged demeanor, the unspeakable things he had done before they met.

He was here, in Hell, actively going against his God, mustering up a fragile smile for Charles’ benefit.

He was perfect.

He was everything.

He needed to know.

So Charles grasped Edwin by his shoulders, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he made the declaration that could change everything (just please don’t take him away from me.)

“I love you,” He all but sobbed, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth against all odds.

“What?” Edwin asked, taken aback. He blinked, eyes wide with shock. “Well, I- You know that- Me too, of course.”

Charles gave a short chuckle, shaking his head, because he didn’t get it. “That’s not what I meant, mate.”

He sniffed heavily before looking back up into Edwin’s eyes. “I love you. Like courting, sweethearts, holding hands in the park, love you.”

Edwin’s eyes had gotten larger, if that were even possible, panic taking over any kind of control he’d still had. Charles’ heart only sank a bit at that. He could have predicted how Edwin’s deeply moral sensibilities would take this sentiment.

“Charles, I can’t-”

But Charles wasn’t able to figure out what Edwin couldn’t as a burning hand closed over the back of his neck, ripping him away and towards the engine room.

He was taken away to his next death with the sound of Edwin calling his name behind him.

[pupyuj]

i saw you said more rei asks and i am going to let out my hearts desires for that🥰 imagine rei just leaving lingering touches and just teasing alllll day and it's driving you crazy but you can't disobey her and try to touch yourself cause why on earth would you disobey mommy? :( and once she's had enough with the teasing she'd praise you for being a good girl and taking all that before practically making you pass out from the pleasure shes giving youkbdaobdisbd

OHHH WAY TO GO ANON this is the first ask in a while where i've been pumped as hell to write it omg THANK YEW! soft femme dom lovers we stand the fuck UP today, WHO IS WITH ME ✊✊‼️

with how annoying (affectionate) she has gotten recently thanks to yujin, teasing you is def smth rei would be sooo down to do 😭 having to film content for dives while she's in the mood to play with your head is so difficult :(( she's always following you around, putting her arm around your waist, her hand on your hip and sometimes even your thighs when you're both sitting... then she's playing with your hair and giving you a teasing smile bcs she knows what your constant, anxious twitching means and she thrives on that feeling of having a hold over you! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

and during fansigns or schedules where you're face to face with dives, rei would be even more of a tease bcs she knew there was no way you were just going to show your true colors so you put up with whatever torture she gives you... it's really, really fun 🤭 and you're so adorable during all of it too! 🥺 looking at her so cutely with big, pleading eyes telling her to stop or just take the goddamn risk but she doesn't do either of them and insists on making your life miserable :<

rei would like doing that thing where she would have you put an egg vibrator inside you and have you walk around with it all day but i feel like she’s more of the fan of the mental torment than the physical bcs it was basically a two-in-one anyway! she says some words directly into your ear or does something naughty, she gets you wet and desperate for her touch—it was perfect 💕

by the time that the two of you are finally alone, rei would be babying the fuck out of you :(( running her fingers through your hair while you laid your head down on her lap as you sat on the floor, calling you her “good, obedient princess” which she knew just adds to the rapidly-growing excitement in between your legs, then she’s making you look up at her with her hand under your chin, her thumb ghosting over your lips before she slides it inside your mouth and you, of course, allow her to do that bcs what the fuck you really can’t handle it anymore 🫣🫣

she’d also just randomly start a casual conversation while having you suck on her thumb?? and she would have the time of her life letting you grind your needy core against her shoe… she just really loves seeing the effect she has on you, it drives her nuts 😵‍💫 “you waited a while, hm? i’m sorry if it was too much, love… you’re too cute when your patience is being tested.” saying that with the loveliest of smiles as if she didn’t have the nastiest things planned for you throughout the night to reward you simply for being on your best behaviour 🫠

reibear likes to alternate between actively fucking you and letting you take what you want from her 😵‍💫😵‍💫 the latter meaning you not exactly being a big fan of toys since you very much preferred rei herself so instead of that intimidatingly big, glittery red silicone strap, you’d ride her fingers,,, and see, strap or not, rei fucking loves this view so she rlly doesn’t care as long as she sees you getting the fun you deserve after a long day 🥰 leaves pretty hickeys all over your chest, your waist or hip would have her nail marks with how hard she’d hold onto you but you proudly wear that shit like it’s a fucking medal—a visual proof that rei enjoys doing what she does to you.

sure, she’d tire you out on your first few orgasms! she’d even giggle mischievously while she stares at your fucked-out state but she knew you wanted more 🥺 and that’s exactly what she gives you just to make up for all the teasing she has done the entire day… although she will do the exact same thing all over again the next day but rei likes to make these kinds of nights super worth it for her precious baby 💞

[weebiewrites]

Things in the Miraculous movie that were way better than the show

Everything

Ok but actually, adjustments made in the movie that vastly improved the show’s canon:

Marinette’s awkwardness being equally applied to everyone she interacts with. Having her reputation be that she is a walking disaster makes Adrien’s (and Alya’s) kindness to her more impactful. Also makes Chloe’s bullying more believable. IN GENERAL makes Marinette’s character more believable.

In the same realm, the entire school and world not revolving around how perfect and cool Adrien is fixes SO. MANY. THINGS. The only person at school who seems to care about his status is Chloe, which not only makes his overall character less annoying, but also adds to Chloe’s characterization.

Speaking of Chloe, making her an actual character and not a bitch who torments her classmates relentlessly for no reason? Like yeah she’s still a bitch and a bully but she has sense of decorum and won’t take it too far if her reputation is on the line.

Sabrina having agency? Hello??

The subtilization of Marinette’s crush on Adrien. Like, hello, she has a lot of shit going on! She doesn’t have time to be swooning over her classmate all day! Yet another thing that makes her more believable.

TIKKI AND PLAGG CHOOSING THEIR OWN HOLDERS. Fuck Fu. Kwamis are literal eldritch gods, why wouldn’t they have a bit of agency?

The entire sequence of Marinette saving Fu. A clever way to have Fu meet the holder while still having Tikki be the one who chooses. Also way better storytelling for him to not intentionally put himself in danger to find a holder, makes the whole thing more organic.

The addition of the rule that the Tikki and Plagg only awaken when there’s a miraculous-level threat. Gives actual purpose to the role of the Guardian, imo.

Unpopular opinion but Tikki’s personality change was great. Once again, literal eldritch God!

Not to harp on this, but once again, the kwamis still having some level of control and AGENCY even when their holders are transformed. Tikki being in Ladybug’s yo-yo and actually guiding her was cool af and WHY WOULDN’T SHE BE ABLE TO DO THAT???

Ladybug and Chat having more general abilities BUT not having their special abilities right away. The sequence where Chat caught the invisible bullet? Cool af. And Ladybug NOT having the reset button right away really raised the stakes and honestly just felt right. It was really rewarding and triumphant when she used it towards the end.

The earrings/ring glowing as a way to communicate when one of them is not transformed. Such a good and cool idea.

Adrien and Marinette frequently hanging out together in a group with Alya and Nino without it being weird!!! Jesus!! Let the kids be kids!!!!!

Gabriel Agreste being less of a piece of shit.

Chat Noir’s “You’re my sidekick!” To, “I’m your sidekick!” progression. Followed by Ladybug’s, “we’re partners!” Immaculate.

Marinette gaining confidence as Marinette from being Ladybug AND ALSO SPECIFICALLY from her partnership with Chat Noir. LET THE SUPERHERO CHILDREN HAVE A MEANINGFUL AND UPLIFTING PARTNERSHIP FFS

Speaking of, LADYNOIR HANGING OUT

LADYNOIR PLAYFIGHTING

Ladybug liking Chat romantically maybe before the 5th fucking season? Making Chat’s first confession less cringey bc she actually really likes him back and totally wants to kiss him? Being internally conflicted ab it?

Marinette confessing right after she gently lets Chat down for the first time, literally perfect angst set up

Adrien BEING ABLE TO STAND UP TO HIS FATHER. Fuck Sentiadrien.

Gabriel being capable of feeling human emotions

Identity reveal

[loveandleases]

Tormenting Chris and Jade submission for balance: I forgot to ask how they'd react to the poly route with Kara X Isaac. Chris's desire to love and support Kara in direct opposition to their desire to judge any dynamic with Isaac--

Love having some balance. (Called for a scenario so rest will be under the cut!)

Chris taps along their phone, their finger hovering just above the screen, caught between pressing and not pressing, between action and restraint. One name. One person their mind refuses to release. They can still see your face clearly; hear the way their name sounds when it leaves your lips. Their expression is taut, posture rigid as they scan the apartment around them—pristine, perfect, just like their life used to be. Until you came into it.

A scoff escapes their lips as they run a hand through their icy-blonde hair. How typical, they think, people stirring up trouble, thinking Chris cares what you do.... How did they even know? Is it in their face? In the way their thoughts creep in, reminding them of what was lost—or what, no, who, they tossed aside?

Jade’s voice rings in Chris’s ears, the memory of her words sharp and biting: “MC was always so hard to please, always unsatisfied despite everything our parents had given them. Since they couldn’t have you, they settled for Kara. Isaac was just the cherry on top—a person with a jaded past that they could take pity on. Along for the ride, because everyone knows the rumors about Isaac. Never staying with someone for too long unless they get bored.”

Their jaw tenses as their eyes linger on the photo laid out on the coffee table—your smile, a smile they hadn't seen in so long. You give it so freely, so easily. To Isaac and Kara of all people. One on either side of you, Kara’s lips close to your ear, whispering something while Isaac’s hand rests casually on your knee. Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara, not after everything Chris learned. They deserve to be with you even less. The number of times they’ve seen their hand roam on people’s bodies…they shouldn’t be touching you so freely. So openly. Where people can see, where Chris can see.

The photo cuts deeper than Chris anticipated, and before they can stop themselves, their fingers are already dialing Kara’s number. Their leg begins to shake with annoyance, the phone ringing louder than their pulse. Kara always picked up quickly—never more than three rings. So why isn’t she now? Was there always something there? Was there something going on behind the scenes?

Were the two of you… no, Kara wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to me.

Kara finally answers, her voice groggy with sleep. “Hello?”

Chris freezes. It’s four in the morning. They’d spent the whole night obsessing, thinking about the three of you—disgusting.

Chris opens their mouth to speak, but the sound of Isaac’s groan and your voice cuts through the silence. “Who is it?”

The question makes their blood run cold. You’re both there? Why are you with her?

“Chris?” Kara’s voice breaks through their thoughts, sharp and concerned.

“Tell me this is a joke.” Chris’ voice cracks, disbelief flooding their words. They force out a thin, bitter laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it, Kara?”

“Chris, how di—”

“Let me talk to them.”

“Wh—who?”

“Let me talk to my fiancé.”

The line grows quiet, and Chris can’t help but imagine the look that passes over the three of you.

“Former fiancé,” Isaac adds, a cool edge to his voice, as Kara reluctantly hands you the phone.

“Why are you with them?” Chris’s voice is quieter now, rawer, the reality of it all begins to settle in.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Another scoff. Chris’s anger surges, bubbling up and threatening to spill over. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my f—” They stop themselves, letting the word die on their tongue.

A heavy sigh escapes them as they lean back against the couch. “You’re my ex-fiancé. Do you realize how this looks? Fucking my little sister and her friend. After everything, this is how you repay me?”

“This has nothing to do with you. Who I’m with is none of your concern, Chris. Kara might be your sister, but you don’t own her, or me, for that matter.” Your words are sharp, almost like a smack to the face.

Chris’s fingers twitch, plucking at the photo until the three of you are separated—tearing you apart. “And Isaac, what? You just had to bring the trash with you, Kara? It’s not bad enough you’re sharing a bed with my ex, but now you’ve got your friend, too?” Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara. Especially once Chris had their background looked into. No, they don’t deserve Kara and they deserve you even less.

“Stop it, Chris.”

Despite the tightness in her chest, the guilt she carries, Kara can’t bring herself to yell. Not yet. “Don’t talk about them, about us, like you know what’s going on. You don’t know anything about it. We’re happy. I’m happy.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment Chris feels a feeling in their gut. One they’re afraid to give a name, because why should Chris Clarke feel guilty? “Isn’t that enough?”

It should be. Chris knows that deep down, under all the anger, the pain, and the jealousy, they should be happy for Kara. She found people who love her. But that gnawing feeling inside them won’t let go. The more they try to bury it, the more it consumes them. They can’t shake the feeling that you’re slipping further away—both of you.

For a long moment, they just sit there, lost in their thoughts. Kara hangs up the phone, but it doesn't stop the storm inside them from raging. Their words tumble out, raw and desperate. “You deserve better than that. Better than them. Aren’t I enough?” They know who the questions are for, and the thought alone sickens them.

[lenacosse]

Hockey player!Sirius x Ice skater!Reader that are rivals smut.

pairing: sirius black x fem reader

cw: strong language, smut, choking degradation

word count: 3,041

‘i could tell that you were bad news

but i kept messing with you, messing with you

and now you’re messing with me, messing with me’

════════════════

You step onto the ice, the cool air wrapping your body in a familiar hug. You were particularly excited today for practice because you were doing it alone, you loved your coach she was great but there was something so therapeutic about being the only one. You do your usual warm up, a few laps and simple tricks. At the minute you were training up for a major competition that would dictate your future in skating, however knowing this it didn’t make you worried because you knew how good you were. You’d been doing this your entire life which has maxed out your skills, anyone would be stupid to not acknowledge your talent.

After your fifth lap your body was heating up and your blood was pumping faster- desperate to get started. You skate over to the speakers and start your routine, this routine was the most intricate you had ever been set but you were destined to perfect it, and so far it was going good. As you were landing your butterfly spin the music cut off, you turned around to hear a wolf whistle. Your face dropped as you saw who it was.

“Black. What are you doing?! Turn the music back on I’m rehearsing.”

“We’ve came to practice. Get off the ice.”

You skate over to him, he’s standing there with a smug look on his face. He’s decked head to toe in is hockey gear and holding his sticks, beside him is his friend James. You weren’t sure which one of them you hated more.

“I don’t care.” You cross your arms, he rolls his eyes at you. “Your team has practice in an hour. The rink is reserved for figure skating.”

“What do you need the rink for? Dancing. You skaters are fucking ridiculous.” Sirius scoffs.

“Oh yeah you’re right! I’ve no reason to be here, you said it yourself, skating isn’t a sport.”

“It isn’t.” James adds, you feel the anger rising in you.

“Shut the fuck up Potter! I’m not leaving the rink. You both have scheduled practice in an hour, just fucking wait til then.”

You ignore the protest that Sirius is putting up and skate back to the speaker, resuming your rehearsal. You try to ignore the taunts the two boys are sending your way, they tormented you to move as they set up their nets, you pushed the net half way across the rink which pissed Sirius off.

“If you move that one more time I swear to god.” He fumed.

“I told you already Black I need the space! I have a competition in a month.”

“And I have matches. I don’t care about your stupid hobby.”

“Hobby?! Fuck you.” You exclaim and angrily make your way back to your side of the rink. You felt all eyes on you as you performed, you could feel Sirius judging you. You truly hated him beyond explanation, he was horrible to you ever since you met him four years ago.

He constantly denied your talents, sabotaged your space and made you feel inferior to him. Most ice hockey players done that to the figure skaters, they didn’t see the art in it. But you didn’t care, Black’s words bounced off you and you redirected them back at him. You knew he was a rough fuck boy who cared way too much about sport, ice skating was a creative outlet for you, a deep passion that let you express yourself, a talent that you could master. But for Sirius hockey was an anger outlet, he could be rough and mean on the rink. He also saw it as an excuse to disregard school and education, one injury and you knew him and his precious future was fucked. Of course he was in denial about this, like most men are. But anyways, his beautiful face and toned body didn’t distract you from his venomous personality and sleazy mouth.

You were practicing your axel, that is until a a hockey puck files right at you. Hitting you in the chest, the aggression of the blow sends you flying, you land awkwardly on your back with your ankle tucked under your leg. You cry out in pain, you look up to see James with a conflicted expression on his face and Sirius plastered with a smug grin.

“Knew you were a shit skater.” Sirius taunts. You get up in an instant, the anger you felt overpowering the pain of your ankle.

“You fucking bastard! That wasn’t funny Sirius I could have got seriously injured.”

“I didn’t think you would fall fucking hell give me a break.”

“Give you a break?! Fuck you are ridiculous! You can take this fucking puck and shove it up your arsehole you wanker!” You pick up the puck and throw it at him, it only enrages you more as he catches it. You could have quite literally strangled him.

As you storm off he shouts back at you, “guess we lost our ‘best skater’.”

“You know plain fucking right that I’m better than you! You’re a sad excuse for a player.” You yell as you take your skates off.

You walk around the corner out of sight to put your shoes on, you knew this was the final straw with him. You were debating reporting him, but you weren’t petty and you knew he was just childish, so for now you would leave it. You were about to walk away but stopped as you heard James speaking.

“Don’t you think that was too far?” He asks as him and Sirius resume with their practice.

“No? How is it too far?”

“…she could have gotten hurt” James responds.

“She didn’t.” Sirius sighs, “look I don’t know why you care, she’s a bitch who’s always had it out for me so I correspond with that attitude.”

“Still. You shouldn’t have fired that puck at her, if she tells the captain you’re off the team.”

“She won’t.”

You rolled your eyes as you heard that, of course he assumes you’ll be nice and pity him. But he’s right, you won’t because just like him the captain didn’t care for the opinions of the figure skaters. That to you was most likely the reason Sirius was such a dick, you walk away- not caring for the rest of their stupid conversation and get changed in the locker room. Your ankle was swollen but nothing serious happened, that you only could be thankful for. It would be an absolute disaster if your ankle broke before your competition.

════════════════

The next day you arrive again at practice, again alone. You had a later scheduled one on one with your coach but your entire day was free so you decided it was a good idea to get there early. So again, you go onto the ice and start your routine. Out of the corner of your eye you see Sirius putting in his skates, you audibly groan and watch as he skates onto the ice. However he barely acknowledges you. You thought he was going to leave you alone, until after you landed your spin he approaches you.

“Looking wobbly (Y/L/N).”

“Fuck off Black.” You snarl and send him a glare.

“You’re cute when mad.” He smirks.

Your face screws up in disgust as you scoff. “Leave me alone. Go annoy someone else.”

“Ah but no one reacts like you do, theres no fun it in.”

“Oh you get off on bullying? How charming.”

“You’re just as bad,” he winks. You gag at him and move across the rink in an attempt to get away from him.

Surprisingly he takes the hint and leaves you be for awhile, but you could see him staring at you. Watching your every movement, his eyes following you like a predatory animal about to pounce. You felt uneasy under his gaze, you hated to admit but he held power in his eyes. There was something about him underneath all the hatred that fascinated you, but that was only a minor thing. And of course once he started to piss you off again you were reminded of this hatred. This time he chose to mess with your music, he kept turning it off and changing it to another artist.

“Stop. Leave it be.”

“I’ve had enough of watching you gallop around the rink.”

“I’ve got a solution for you genius, leave. Go on, piss off I don’t want you here.” You spoke in a child like tone to mock him.

“You go. You come every day I can’t get a fucking minute alone in here.”

“I come here to rehearse. And too fucking bad, you don’t own the rink I have every right to be here. I pay to use this.”

“Rehearse? Fuck me you are delirious, figure skating is ridiculous.”

“No you know what, I think you’re jealous. You’re threatened because I’m the only one who meets your match. Right? You think undermining me and making fun of me will make me quit so then you’ll be the best.”

“What we do is completely different, so no. I’m not jealous.”

“I know what we do is different. But you’re so shallow that you’re threatened by everyone, you want to be the best contributor to this company but you can’t because you think I’ll beat you every time.” You move closer to him, you eyes locking in on his. He looked mad, you were getting under his skin.

“Im not threatened by anyone. To think that you’re even on the same playing field as me is crazy. You’ll never be as good as anyone that contributes to this company. You’re an awful skater.”

You just smirk, he was trying so hard to hurt you but it wasn’t working. You knew you were good, that you earned. “Nice attempt.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“The feelings mutual.”

You both share intense eye contact. You head was running wild trying to find something to say, but the way he was looking at you was making your brain fog. All you could think of was the way his jaw flexed when he smirked, how his veins became prominent as he balled his fists or how his eyes were laced with pure lust as he looked into you doe ones. You couldn’t believe standing in front of him you felt sexual tension between you both, you broke the eye contact and cleared your throat.

“Fine dickhead. Have the entire rink.” You sneer and walk off the rink. Removing your skates and walking back to the females changing rooms. Before you open the door you feel a hand grip your wrist and pull you back.

You’re met with Sirius’ face, he looked different than usual, his pupils were expanded and his jaw was tight. He pushed you up against the wall and whispered into your ear.

“I want to fuck you until you forget your name like the slut that you are, maybe then you’ll think twice before running your mouth.”

You squeeze your thighs together as he speaks, his voice was rough yet sultry at the same time. You didn’t know what to say, so you just flashed him an innocent expression which made him grunt. He leaned back down to whisper into your ear.

“Strip down and stand in the shower. I’ll be there in a minute.” With that he walked away, you stand there for a second baffled by that encounter, but without thinking you walk in the changing rooms.

First you take off your leg warms and leave them right at the door, then your tights, then your jacket, then your shirt, then your skirt, then your panties and finally your bra. You left him a trail to find you. You step into the shower and pull the curtain, you stand with your front to the wall, your back to the entrance. You turn the water on and step until, working your way through your hair as the water soaks it. You heard the curtain open and your stomach flipped. Before you knew it you were pressed against the wall and Sirius was behind you, his hard cock between your thighs.

He grabbed your hair, pulling your neck back so you were looking up at him. You bit your lip at the sight, his hair was now wet and droplets of water fell from his hair down onto his face. You hated how beautiful he looked. The sight before you was making you drip with arousal, you’d never felt this way before about anyone and the hatred between you both only made this feel even better.

“Look at you, waiting for me. Fuck you’re so pathetic.” He snarled. You just looked at him with you doe eyes, your lashes fluttering.

“I couldn’t help myself.” You smirked. A whimper escaped your lips as he tugged hard on your hair, he let go of your hair and instead wrapped his hand around your throat, applying a little bit of pressure. You couldn’t deny the fact that you liked it.

He ran his other hand down your back, sending deep shivers up your spin. His hand stopped at your ass. You cried out as he smacked it, you didn’t except it but surprisingly you liked it. He ran his finger over your slit, his eyes grew darker as he felt how wet and eager you were.

“Is this turning you on? Am I making you excited?” He whispered a low growl on the end of his words. You nodded in response, suddenly he shoved two fingers inside you, a gasp escaped your lips, he searched for that sweet spot and immediately found it. You eyes rolled back as he pumped his fingers onto it, you gripped the metal shelf as your legs lightly shook from under you. Sirius kept going, getting faster and more aggressive as you got closer to that release. Your muscles tightened around you and he immediately pulled his fingers back.

You whine in response opening your eyes again and looking up at him. “Why’d you stop.”

“Felt like it,” he shrugged. He let go of your throat and grabbed your hips. You felt him rub his tip at your entrance and you moved back further, showing him how much you wanted this. “You’re such a slut. But I love it.”

He thrusted into you, gentler than you had expect. However that didn’t last long, once you had settled he pushed you even further against the wall and pinned your hands together at your back, his other hand gripped the metal shelf. He pounded into you at an insane speed, his thick cock stretching you out in the most divine way. He hit your good spot perfectly which had you rolling your eyes and moaning continuously. Every noise you made and urged him to go faster and harder, you swore your pelvic would inevitably be bruised from this but frankly you didn’t care. It felt too good.

“I- fucking hate you.” You moaned, your words were sloppy and broken.

Sirius chuckled from behind you and leaned to your ears. “I hate you too. But I bet no one has had you moaning like this.” He kissed down your neck, you could swear at one point he bit your neck but everything blurred into one so you couldn’t be sure, but that didn’t matter because everything he was doing was beyond attractive.

You felt the coil in your stomach snap and you released around him, your legs shook as he kept going. You heard his low groans in your ear, it quite literally was the hottest sound you’d ever heard. He kept going until you came again, this time it was intense. You were overridden with euphoria as you saw white, your legs nearly gave way but Sirius put a steady hand under your to hold you in place. He slowly pulled out and let your arms go. You looked back at him.

“What about you?”

“You’re going to get on your knees and finish the job.” He said, he helped you down and you were now in level with his cock.

This had you biting your lip in anticipation. The way the water fell down on him could have turned you on all over again, he put his hands into your hair, guiding your mouth to his cock. He wasn’t small that was for sure, you licked a long slow strip from his base to tip, slowly you wrapped your lips around his tip and started to suck. You moved your head up and down him as you hollowed your cheeks, he tasted heavenly on your tongue. You were enjoying the noises coming out of his mouth. You slowly pulled your head back releasing his cock from your mouth, you wrapped your hand around the bottom and stroked him as your tongue ran over his slit, the practically whined as you done this, you looked up at him. His eyes were closeted and his face contoured with pleasure. You smirked and resumed, taking your time to draw out those beautiful sounds from his mouth. That was until he grew impatient. He grabbed your head and took back the dominance, he fucked your mouth hard. Your eyes were watering and tears were falling out, but you were loving every moment of it. You kept up with his thrusts, sucking him eagerly. You could tell he was close when his movements got sloppy. And as you expected he came in your mouth, hot white liquid shooting down your throat. Slowly you pulled your head back, swallowing his cum. He looked down at you with a satisfied smirk.

“We’re doing that again.”

You nodded in agreement and he helped you up, you made him pass you in your shower products in your bag. He got dressed and turned to leave.

“See you later (Y/L/N). Better not hog the rink tomorrow with your galloping.”

“Cant make any promises dickhead.” You roll your eyes. He just smirked at you and left. You showered and got ready for your next rehearsal, you still couldn’t believe what happened but it was the best sexual experience you’ve had which you would not say no to if he wanted to do it again.

[cherrychilli]

18+

Steve Harrington x AFAB reader, grumpy dom! Steve, established relationship, PIV sex, car sex

A/N: I haven't written for Steve in a minute so I pulled this out of the wip vault and dusted it off.

The time to back out had passed.

Steve knew he couldn't disappoint the whole group now when it had already been decided that he would drive them out to the lake that Saturday afternoon. With Eddie's license suspended and Jonathan's car in the shop, there was no other option.

For someone who, on a regular day, looks golden in every possible way under a perfect cerulean sky, he stuck out like a storm cloud today.

Steve sat out on the dock with his shades on to shield his annoyed squint and a soda pressed to his lips to conceal his scowl, wishing it was a beer instead.

Those of you who weren't driving picked frosty bottles out of the cooler Eddie had stocked for the outing, bottle caps coming loose with a pop, the nutty aroma of grain and barley fizzing into the wind. It was more than a little amusing to you as you eyed Steve from over your beer, watching the poor boy stew.

On the surface you appear oblivious but you're well aware that your boyfriend's eyes are trained on you too, a heated, razor sharp stare behind those reflective lenses.

His simmering displeasure goes unnoticed by the rest of the group but when you start to strip down to your swimsuit with the others and head for the water it's only a matter of moments before they notice one less member wading in the water with them.

Inevitably, what he'd been dreading begins and he has to deal with it all day. Everyone takes turns asking Steve why he isn't getting in the water with them and each time he's forced to mutter out some vague excuse that only lifts more eyebrows.

It's obvious to everyone that he's hiding something and the stubborn way he tries to refute is comically adorable. Some lighthearted teasing ensues and you can almost see the steam rising off his skin.

Robin gets the ball rolling with a quip about him spending too much time on his hair to risk getting it wet. Eddie joins in on the teasing too. Nancy and Jonathan are too polite to add to it but they laugh off to the side and try to suppress their giggles all the same.

None of it is cruel. it's all harmless, well meaning fun between friends and it's all the more enjoyable for you because you're the only one who knows the real reason why Steve wont just peel off his shirt and get in the water.

If he did, then your friends would get to see the result of all your hard work last night. They'd see the messy, lengthy scarlet scratches that rawed the skin all down his back, the half moon indents turning violet on his triceps and shoulders and the many hickeys like splashes of merlot you sucked onto his chest and his stomach.

You've got a few marks on you as well but you're saved from suffering the same torment as Steve thanks to your waterproof concealer. He endures it all, forcing the occasional dry, humorless laugh until the sun begins to wind down and the rest of you towel off before lugging your belongings back to his car under a cotton candy sky.

It's a little snug inside the BMW but you make it work. You buckle yourself in the front seat and the others pile into the back. Nancy finds room in Jonathan's lap while Eddie's somehow been strong armed into the middle by Robin so she can have the window seat. He doesn't concede quietly and the resultant commotion in the back is enough to distract the backseat occupants from noticing the tension between you and Steve. Well, more so the tension that's emanating from Steve because you look no more unbothered than you had all day, humming to yourself inconspicuously. Waiting patiently.

Nancy and Jonathan are the first to be dropped off. Next is Eddie, and then Robin. You wave goodbye to her as Steve slowly presses down on the accelerator to begin the journey to your apartment, twenty minutes of being alone together starting now.

"You really put me through it today", he spoke, breaking the moment long silence.

Your lips form a pleased smile as you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. It was obvious where all of this was heading but riling him up was part of the fun and you didn't want it to end just yet. You wanted a little more before it's all teeth and ripped clothes when he gets you inside your apartment.

"I didn't make them say all those things, Stevie sweetie", you turn your head towards him and bat your lashes, the illusion of sweetness thick on your features.

His eyes stay fixed on the road, the vein near his temple more noticeable now. "You wore it on purpose, didn't you?", he sidesteps your comment like you hadn't even said it at all.

This time when you blink at him it's with confusion. "Don't play dumb, baby", he warns you with a laugh so mirthless that it draws a shiver out of you. "Oh..", you utter when you realize that he's referring to your strappy yellow bikini. The one he really really liked, because he made you keep it on all throughout riding him on on his sun lounger the last time you went over to swim in his pool. Not that you did much swimming in the end.

You'd been so wrapped up in all the teasing and what hid beneath the layers of his clothes that you'd paid little attention to what you'd been wearing all day.

"Wasn't bad enough that I had to deal with the others today. You had me fighting off a fucking hard on top of it all too."

Your gaze instantly drops to his lap. By the looks of the thick imprint of his cock underneath his jeans he seemed to be done fighting it off.

The car slows into a turn and you realize that you don't recognize your surroundings, much more greenery around than what you're familiar with. You'd had your eyes off the road long enough for him to divert from the route to your house, detouring off a backroad and into an unfamiliar clearing thickly nestled by trees and forestry.

You bite down on your lip to stem the grin that threatens to erupt on your face. This was much better than you'd been hoping for and happening much faster than you could stand to wait.

Pulling into the isolated space, he cuts the engine, car going completely still. "Come here", but he's already pulling you with forceful a hand curled around the back of your neck before you have a chance of following through yourself. It's ungainly how you fumble with unbuckling your seatbelt as it presses uncomfortably against your chest but you manage to unfasten it, leaning further over the console to get closer to him.

You whine when he latches onto your neck, sucking at the skin there not at all gently. If the taste of lake water and sunscreen still lingered on your skin, he showed no sign of it. At least not any sign of disliking it as his tongue licked over your skin and his teeth dragged close to your pulse. When he pulls away you can feel the wet warmth of the fresh hickey blooming on your skin and your heart beating in time with the subtle throbbing there.

It wasn't hard to imagine what it looked like. Deep and dark and reminder of who you belong to. "You're not covering it up this time, understand?", he tells you and you nod. As if you'd want to hide it.

He leans over you then and you retract into your seat to make room for him, back pressed firmly against leather. Steve's intention becomes clear when he pulls at the lever to adjust your seat. You squeak when it reclines abruptly and he climbs over you to push it all the way down.

"Get these off. Now", he orders you, not unkind but firm, pulling at the hem of your damp t-shirt and the waistband of your shorts. He's impatient but so are you, wiggling around and maneuvering your limbs messily underneath him as he helps you to peel the clothing off.

You manage to toe you shoes off as well, elbows and knees bumping Steve and parts of the interior until you're left in just your bikini. The frantic rush suddenly halts and things slow down when he runs a finger down your sternum until he reaches the little strap just below your breasts, hooking his finger into it. " 'Played dirty all day, didn't you honey? had your fun while I all I could do was sit back and watch?", he tugged, the bottom curve of your breasts becoming visible as the material slips.

"Couldn't help it", you breathe out, hands sliding up his biceps. " I like it when you get mean", you confessed softly, eyes all big and glossy and wanting. He laughs, hair falling over his forehead. "I know, baby. Gonna take my time getting back at you". He's done with the gentle interval, yanking your bikini down to expose your tits. You yelp, not because it was unexpected but because he'd done it a little harder than you had expected. A welcome roughness that made your core feel sticky.

He's all over you, weight pressing down on you as you writhe under him, gasping as he marks you up. More fresh bruises to match the one on your neck are peppered across your breasts first before his lips trail hot on your stomach and then your hips and your thighs. The noises he's forcing out of you are needy and pathetic, high pitched, breathy whimpers and mewling cries of his name all tumble from your lips until he pulls away to look over his work.

You're left panting as he appraises you, eyes raking all over in search of more space to fit another hickey or two. "Never looked better, babe", he sits back on his knees, grinning happily. "On second thought...", he grips your waist, encouraging you to turn around and get on your knees. You scramble to get into position, pulling loose the knot on your bikini top and tossing it towards the back seat so that it no longer hangs limply on you in a tangled mess. You grab at the headrest, bare tits pressing against leather as you arch your back for him and present your ass. "Now you've never looked better", he scoffs, open palm landing on your left cheek with a swift slap.

"Shit! please just fuck me already, Steve", you whine, beyond the point of playing dumb and coy.

He pulls your bottoms to the side, thumb brushing against your soaking entrance as he lets out a low whistle. It's a little strange being almost completely nude in his car like this. You usually had a little more clothing bunched around you on the off chance the rocking vehicle might attract any passersby's attention. It makes you feel that much more vulnerable. Hidden but still technically in public. Still at risk of being discovered.

It's all so terribly exciting.

The distinct jangle of his belt being undone makes your spine tingle and the crude sound of him spitting onto his palm before he tugs on his cock a makes you clench.

"Not gonna go easy on you", he warns, catching your eye when you look back at him over your shoulder.

"I can take it", you challenge him and you can tell by the way the corner of his mouth twitches against the smirk he's trying to force away that he liked it.

He places one hand on your hip and the other on the foggy window pressing his cock into you in one slow thrust.

"That's my girl"

---

The next day you anticipate Robin's reaction when she pretends to barf at the sight of the hickeys on your neck and you giggle, amused because you know never to take it seriously.

Eddie's slower to notice because the first thing he does is climb into the back seat of Steve's car after it's been parked, claiming to have dropped his lighter there yesterday.

"Did you find it?", Steve calls out behind him when he joins you and Robin as you get ready to head into a nearby burger joint for lunch.

There's a suspicious pause and some rustling before he finally yells out an answer.

"Nope! Found something better though"

Kicking open the door, Eddie barrels out with your bikini top sloppily thrown on over his shirt, batting his lashes at Steve like some kind of parody of a lovestruck cartoon.

You're too entertained by it to be embarrassed though you can't say the same for Steve who's turned completely red, placing a hand over your mouth as you snicker.

Puckering his lips, the metalhead makes eyes at your boyfriend and you double over with laughter while Robin rolls here eyes and makes her way inside, having had her fill of Eddie's theatrics.

"Come on big boy, fancy another round in the back seat?"

[merrybloomwrites]

The Rake

Summary: You start having nightmares that disrupt your sleep, but luckily your boyfriend, Spencer, is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 1.8K

CW: mentions of creepy stories, nightmares

AN: This story is inspired by the Smosh Mouth episode that came out on October 21, which honestly did manage to creep me out a couple of times.

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

Nearly everyday after work you go for a thirty minute walk. It’s always nice to go outside and enjoy some fresh air after being cooped up in the Smosh office all day. 

Plus it’s the perfect time to listen to podcasts. On Mondays you get to hear the first half of the newest Smosh Mouth episode, and you finish it up on Tuesdays. 

Walks are skipped on Wednesdays, as that’s the day you and your boyfriend, Spencer, spend together. 

It’s a perfect system in your eyes, one that you don’t plan on changing any time soon.

Today’s Tuesday, and you pull out your phone to press play on the podcast you’d started the day before. This week’s theme had been creepypastas, and it’s been fun listening to Shayne read out these weird stories.

You do admit that they’ve creeped you out a little bit, especially the one about the doll who demanded teeth. Shayne is an excellent storyteller, and it’s interesting to hear the different voice he uses for these stories. That, plus the eerie background music and noises they add in, really works to give those spooky, somewhat uncomfortable vibes. 

Add on the fact that the sun sets early now and you’re ending your walk at dusk while you listen to the final story about “The Rake”. You’re truthfully a bit freaked out by it, but then the episode ends with some banter from Shayne and Amanda and you move on. 

The rest of your evening passes as it usually does and by the time you get in bed you’ve completely forgotten about the creepy stories.

But then a nightmare wakes you up, and even though you’re now awake, you’re still terrified. Because it looks like something is sitting on the edge of your bed. You’re frozen in fear for what feels like minutes before you’re finally able to turn on your bedside lamp.

Once you’re no longer in complete darkness you can see that nothing is there. You take deep breaths and tell yourself that it’s just a bad dream. There is no weird creature in your room to torment you. You’re just stressed and your brain conjured this image to mess with you.

That’s the rational explanation. But it’s hard to be rational at 4:30 in the morning. 

For the next hour you try to fall back asleep. But it’s no use. You toss and turn, open apps on your phone, try to read a little bit, but nothing is chasing away the dream. At 6am you give up and get out of bed. You decide to take a morning walk today since you won’t be going on one this evening, and maybe getting outside will be a good change of scenery to reset your mind. 

It works, and by the time you arrive at Smosh you’ve forgotten about the dream. You are, however, completely exhausted from waking up so early. 

Spencer notices this immediately, as he gives you his normal good morning kiss. 

“You seem sleepy,” he says as his hand goes to your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip. It’s one of his comforting gestures, and it’s most welcomed right now. 

“Had a weird dream that woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep,” you answer. 

“I’m sorry baby, you want to talk about it?”

“No, I'm good now. Just tired.”

“Okay. If you want to talk, let me know. And I’m staying at your place tonight so I’ll make sure you get a good night's sleep,” he says with a wink, causing you to laugh. 

Just like that, any lingering tension has left you, thanks to your kind and silly boyfriend.

“I’ve got a meeting I need to prepare for, but I’ll see you later,” he says, leaning in for one more quick kiss. With a parting squeeze to your waist he turns and walks away to start his work for the day. 

You do the same, and after a few hours of working at your desk, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Just as you're about to get up in search of caffeine, Spencer appears. 

As though he could read your mind, he hands you a mug saying, “Thought you could use a little pick me up. Made you some tea.”

“Thank you, this is exactly what I need right now,” you say. You take a sip and feel a pleasant warmth inside, not only from the tea, but from the fact that your boyfriend, who never drinks tea, has learned how to make it just perfect for you. 

As you sip your drink you reach out a hand. Spencer reaches to link his fingers with yours, and the two of you sit there for a couple minutes in comfortable silence. After this brief time spent together you both return to work. 

You don’t see Spencer for the rest of the day, since your lunch breaks don’t always line up, so it’s extra nice that you’re spending tonight together. 

Once you wrap up your last task of the day you walk over to Spencer’s desk to find him still engrossed by the document on his computer. You wait patiently, not wanting to break his concentration. When he gets to a stopping point he looks up and says, “Hey, sorry, I just need to finish this before I head out.”

“That’s fine, I’ll pick up the food on my way home,” you reply.

“Thank you, I’ll be at your place within the hour, promise.”

“Looking forward to it,” you say before leaning down for a quick kiss. 

You drive home, grabbing dinner as promised, and Spencer gets to your place not long after you do. You enjoy the food before lounging together on the sofa to watch mindless sitcoms. Spencer also keeps his word of tiring you out, the night ending with both of you very satisfied. 

Though all you want is to fall asleep, you definitely need a shower. It’s not what you want to be doing, but when Spencer decides to join you, it becomes much less of a chore. 

The two of you get ready and finally fall into bed. You’re truly exhausted, and as soon as Spencer spoons you from behind, his arms secure around your waist, you drift off to sleep.

But once again you jolt awake, pulse racing as you see what looks like a figure at the edge of the bed. Having felt you move, Spencer shifts beside you. He sits up sleepily and murmurs, “What’s wrong?” 

You try to explain but you’re still frozen by fear. Spencer becomes more alert and notices how wide your eyes are, how quickly you’re breathing. He turns on the lamp and scans the room. 

Seeing nothing to cause alarm he turns to you and again asks, “Baby, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“There was a thing, like a person or a creature or something. At the end of the bed,” you reply shakily. 

“A person in the room?” He asks to clarify. 

“That’s what it looked like but then it disappeared!”

“Okay, just, stay here a minute and I’ll check the apartment,” Spencer says, starting to get out of bed. You’re grateful for his bravery, but there’s no way you’re just going to stay in bed like a sitting duck. 

You get up as well and grab the metal softball bat leaning against the wall. Spencer watches and asks, “Have you always had that there?”

“Just since my moms last visit,” you answer. “She cleaned out the basement and thought I should have it for protection. But can we please focus on the possible intruder?”

“Right, yes, ok,” he says, getting back to the task at hand. The two of you search the apartment, but find nothing. 

You feel better knowing that your apartment is definitely empty, and with Spencer once again holding you protectively, you manage to fall back asleep, not waking until your alarm.

Both of you are needed in a meeting that morning so you quickly get ready and head to work. Once in the conference room, you sit next to Amanda, Spencer on your other side. Even though you’d slept more than the previous night, it’s clear both of you are still sleepier than usual.

“Busy night?” Amanda asks, her voice suggestive, but joking. You know what she’s implying, and though she’s kind of right, you don’t need her knowing that.

“Bad dream,” you say simply. 

“Y/N thought there was a creature on the bed,” Spencer adds. 

“Well, she was right, wasn’t she? You were there,” Shayne says from his spot next to Amanda, causing you to laugh. 

“Heyyy, rude,” is all Spencer has to say in reply. 

“Did you listen to the podcast this week?” Amanda asks.

“Yea of course, I listen every week.”

“And you had a dream about a creature in your bed?” is Amanda’s next question. You nod yes in reply.

“A creature like in the Rake?” 

“Holy shit. Yea. One hundred percent the creature from the rake,” you say, mad at yourself for not putting the pieces together.

“You got a nightmare from us telling stories on the pod?” Shayne asks. “That might be a first.”

You start laughing at how ridiculous this all is before sliding down and resting your head on the table. You’re embarrassed, not only that you had a nightmare because of a comedy podcast, but that everyone at work will absolutely know this fact by the end of the day. You’re already imagining the pranks that you’ll likely endure in the future because of this. 

And of course the pranks do come. In the following weeks, plenty of people joke around about you being scared of the Rake and sometimes pop out at you to make you jump. All of this is a totally normal and expected part of working at Smosh.

But what you don’t expect is Spencer’s reaction. Instead of laughing and messing around with the others, he’s always serious and checking in. He makes sure that it’s not upsetting you, and promises to talk to the others if it is. 

While you reassure him that it truly doesn’t bother you, it’s nice to know that he’s so fully there to back you up. You’d been on your own until you found him, always taking care of yourself. So having Spencer there to help take care of you feels so foreign, and yet, so welcomed. 

The teasing and pranks may get old eventually, but you don’t mind them. Because everytime it happens, Spencer is right there with a smile and a kiss to make sure you’re okay. 

And that makes it all worth it.

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AN: Thanks for reading! Lmk if you have any requests!

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Between your arms [S. R]

Spencer Reid x wife!reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: after a hard day Spencer returns to his safe place

A/N: I just finished the third season, imagine it's somewhere in there. And DAMN, with each passing chapter I fall more in love with this man

When Spencer got home, he was completely exhausted. The case had been delayed longer than expected and the fact that the jet had technical problems didn’t help in the least, so the total delay was 5 hours, so it was already late at night when he opened the door of your apartment. He strongly wished that you weren't awake or he would feel guilty and that concern dissipated when he noticed that you weren't lying on the couch as he had found you so many times.

Spencer needed to shower so he could somehow wash off the stress of the case and wash off the dirt he'd picked up during his stay in the woods. Fortunately the shower was far enough from the room to go unnoticed and he took his time, enjoying the hot water running all over his body, considerably relaxing the tension he had in his muscles. Once he left, Reid took a cotton pajama that he had packed in the suitcase, it had colored stripes on the white fabric and you had given it to him for a birthday many years ago. The fabric was already worn by time, but he loved the calming feeling it gave him, and the smell of your favorite fabric softener on it made him feel like he was right at home.

When he opened the door of your room he found you in bed, sleeping so peacefully that he felt some envy, but at the same time he smiled tenderly. He and you were very different when it came to sleeping: he couldn't fall asleep if he wasn't tucked in, he had a hard time doing it alone, he constantly woke up to go to the bathroom and he tossed and turned throughout the night. You, on the other hand, could sleep soundly as soon as your body touched the mattress, fully exposed, and you would stay in the same pose on your left side unless he asked you to reposition yourself. You slept on the inner side for reasons of practicality, because when he was late or had to leave due to an emergency it was easier for him to jump out of bed, and you always did it hugging a stuffed dog that Spencer had won for you in a fair.

Many people would think that getting married at 21 was crazy and even a couple of gossip told you that you were making a mistake or that it would only take a few months for one of you to file for divorce, but four long years had passed since then. Not everything was perfect, because there were arguments as in all marriages, and to that we had to add the constant stress that Spencer's work had, not only for him but also for you. Although, somehow, you had made it work and he always found the time to dedicate himself only to you, because he knew that you deserved it. You had a good position in a real estate company, nothing risky, and with hours that were always respected.

You two preferred not to think about it, especially him, but there was a degree of codependency in your relationship that you hoped wouldn't escalate into something sick or dangerous. You had had a difficult life, Spencer continued to have a difficult life, but little by little you two opened up to each other and the communication helped comfort what sometimes still tormented you. Reid had saved you from committing many idiots and if it wasn't for you, he didn't know how he could have faced situations or ghosts from his past. You were his reason for living and your apartment was that safe place where he could isolate himself from the whole world and live his own utopia. With you there was no suffering, there were no traumas, no crimes, no coworkers who ignored him... and when that existed, you were there to hug him tight and tell him that everything would be fine.

Honestly, the fear of becoming a burden plagued him frequently, but the two of you were trying to work through your own insecurities so that you could carry on your marriage in peace.

As soon as he felt his body touch the surface of the mattress, he moaned calmly and finally allowed himself to feel all the tiredness of the day, sure that it no longer mattered because he was in the right place to rest. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, enjoying the softness on which he was lying, until your gentle breathing next to him caught his attention. He hated waking you up during the night, but now more than ever he needed to feel you close and he considered that with such a heavy sleep you had his touch would hardly be noticeable. He moved enough to be able to wrap his arm around your entire waist and bury his head in your skin at the nape of the neck, but against all odds he heard you inhale heavily as a sign that you had noticed the grip.

“Spence?”

"I didn't want to wake you up" he apologized, as he kissed you on the shoulder to mask his remorse, although to be honest a part of him was very grateful to be able to talk to you.

"I wasn't asleep" you lied uselessly, because your voice betrayed your state of sleepiness. Careful not to let him let go of you, you turned around to face him and he smiled from ear to ear when even in the dark he noticed that you were smiling weakly at him "Did you just get there?"

“Things got difficult. We came back by train”

“Oh…” you hummed sympathetically. Your hands traveled deftly up to his face and you stroked with your thumbs, watching him turn to putty between your fingers. “Did you even have dinner? Let me make you something"

"No, no, darling," he hastened to say, stopping you from getting up to go to the kitchen. Honestly, hunger was the least of Spencer's worries at that moment, his mind was longing to receive your body heat and with some luck multiple kisses on the face and lips "Just stay here with me"

If in normal circumstances it was already difficult to deny your husband something, it was even worse when he whispered in that pleading tone, so you simply nodded and snuggled closer against him. His long golden hair tickled your nose and you realized that Spencer had used your conditioner again, even though he had promised not to do it again, but you didn't mind at all.

"You feel good?" you asked softly, as one of your hands traveled to the back of his head to stroke his head and you maneuvered your other arm for him to use as a pillow.

He was very protective as a husband, perhaps motivated by the fear that some of the horrible things he saw daily at his work would happen to you, and he constantly looked out for your well-being, but on those occasions when you took the time to pamper him after a terrible day, he swore that it was you who took care of him from the lurking monsters.

"I feel better now that I'm here," he confessed, the words slightly muffled by his lips on your skin. "I missed you."

"Oh, I know you did" you joked, now a little more lucid than at the beginning of the conversation. You were very interested in him being able to fall asleep, because once he did it, all you had to do was close your eyes to imitate him, and how to blame you? With that strong grip and his legs intertwined with yours, you felt total tranquility "I missed you too”

Your hand continued to untangle strands of his hair in an attempt to relax him and you stayed that way for a few minutes, until he broke the silence. You didn't understand at first, so you gently whispered in your ear for him to repeat it.

"I missed our nine o'clock show" it was inevitable to let out a soft laugh at the apparent priority issue of your beloved and you kissed him on the top of the head before answering.

"Yes, it is sad"

"Remember how I told you that Anita and the butler were having an affair?" he asked and you hummed affirmatively “Did I get it right?”

"Almost. She was having it with the gardener” you heard a defeated sigh under your chin and your smile only increased “Now you owe me five bucks”

“Too bad, I don't have cash with me,” he muttered, pretending to be genuinely pained. “Would you accept another method of payment?” There was no need to ask what his suggestion was from him, the gentle kiss he placed on your shoulder spoke for itself.

“Yes, but there is a problem with the currency conversion. Five dollars equals approximately…” you took a moment to think of a suitable number and when you got it a smile escaped your lips “five hundred kisses”

“Five hundred kisses?!” Reid squealed from his hiding place in your chest "That's a huge debt"

"It is"

"I better start now huh?" he said flirtatiously. He started with quick kisses on whatever section of skin was within his reach that made you laugh out loud, then he continued up your neck with more careful caresses and by the time he reached your face the kisses were slow and so gentle that you felt die. But he wasn't so merciful to you, so his kisses touched almost your entire face except your lips. "Do you keep track?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you keep track of how many kisses I gave you?”

"Oh no, I guess you'll have to start over," you whispered, as you felt his smile against your skin as he planted a kiss right on your jaw "Or if you give me one on the lips, we're even”

Spencer didn't think twice to finally indulge your wishes and it was such a warm and deep kiss that you felt like a newlywed again. There were bad times, yes, but it was these moments that made you know that facing the rest was worth it.

"I love you very much, you know that?" he sighed, still with his eyes closed and his forehead resting on yours. You lifted your head a little just so you could steal another chaste kiss from him.

"I love you more, baby"

Spencer settled back, now lying entirely on your chest and you wrapped both arms around his waist while your hands traced uneven patterns on the striped fabric on his back. You asked your ear to please get some sleep and the soft beating of your heart was enough to calm him down until exhaustion overcame him.

If there was a perfect place in the world, he knew that it was between your arms.