#backward upper castes

[rightnewshindi]

मोदी सरकार ने पिछड़े स्वर्णों को भी दिया आरक्षण, अनुराग ठाकुर बोले, कांग्रेस खत्म करेगी आरक्षण

हमीरपुर: पूर्व केंद्रीय मंत्री व हमीरपुर संसदीय क्षेत्र से सांसद अनुराग सिंह ठाकुर ने कहा कि कांग्रेस सरकार ने हिमाचल प्रदेश को आर्थिक बदहाली और दिवालियापन की ओर धकेल दिया है। इनकी सारी गारंटियां फेल हुई हैं और अब ये हरियाणा में भी झूठे वायदे करते घूम रहे हैं। अनुराग ठाकुर ने कहा कि भाजपा समाज के सभी वर्गों को लेकर साथ चलने वाली पार्टी है, जबकि कांग्रेस जाति और धर्म के नाम पर लोगों को बांटने का…

[flux1563]

Unforgettable Kidnapping ft Karina

Words : 9k

Tags : first time squirting, first time BBC

Karina stepped out of her apartment into the dimly lit hallway, her heels clicking rhythmically against the cold, tiles. She was a creature of habit, meticulous in her routines. The scent of last night's dinner lingered faintly in the corridor, hinting at the lives hidden behind the doors she passed. Her neighbor, a towering figure of a man, lived in apartment 3B. She had never seen his face clearly, just the outline of his massive form as he moved behind his half-closed door or the shadow he cast when passing by. His very presence was a constant reminder of the vastness of the world, a stark contrast to the confined space of their shared floor.

The neighbor, Mr. Y/n, was a mystery to her. His deep, rumbling voice echoed through the walls at odd hours, but he was always polite when they did cross paths, his eyes never meeting hers. His hand, the one time she had shaken it, was like a glove enveloping her own. It was a hand that could easily crush her, and she had felt the strength in his grip. His skin was dark as midnight, a stark contrast to the pale walls, and his height made the ceiling seem lower, the walls narrower.

The hallway was a silent companion to her solitude, a place where whispers of other lives melded with her own quiet existence. The light from the flickering bulb cast a warm, but eerie glow, throwing elongated shadows on the floor that danced with her steps. Karina had always felt safe in her solitude, a cocoon woven by the predictable patterns of her daily life. The office was a five-minute walk away, and she liked the anonymity it offered, the way she could blend in with the urban landscape outside her door.

But tonight, as she approached the stairs, she felt a prickle of unease. The building was unnaturally still. The usual murmur of distant TVs and muffled conversations was absent. The air felt thick, charged with an energy that made her want to hurry, to escape the oppressive quiet. She glanced at Mr. Y/n's door, a sliver of light peeking through the gap at the bottom. Her heart skipped a beat. She told herself it was just the silence playing tricks on her, that she was being silly. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. She quickened her pace, her hand hovering over the banister, ready to flee back to the safety of her apartment if needed.

The moment she passed his door, it swung open with a heavy creak. A hand, much larger than she had ever imagined, reached out and wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her into the apartment with surprising gentleness. She gasped, her eyes widening in terror as she stumbled into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The hand belonged to Mr. Y/n. He stood before her, his face now fully visible in the soft glow of a single lamp. His eyes searched hers, a mix of curiosity and something she couldn't quite place.

The room was unlike anything she had expected. It was meticulously organized, almost obsessively clean. The walls were lined with bookshelves, their contents ranging from classic literature to tomes on physics and astronomy. In the corner, a grand piano gleamed, a stark contrast to the worn-out sofa in the center. His hand released her arm, and she stumbled backward, her eyes darting around the room, seeking an escape.

Now in front of Karina, y/n is standing.His body is very large, Karina's height only reaches his chest, his shoulders are very broad, and his palms are bigger than her body.

"What are you going to do, what do you want?"Karina dared to ask with trembling lips in fear."I won't hurt you if you don't resist," he answered Karina's question.

"What does it mean?"Karina asked again.All this time, y/n has been very attracted to Karina; she is his ideal type, with a big chest, a slim waist, and a big butt.Y/n has only been watching Karina from the shadows and he can no longer hold back his feelings."I will be honest, I like you Karina," he said, answering Karina's question again."I already have a boyfriend," Karina replied, lying.He knew that Karina was lying because he had dug up all the information about her, living alone in an apartment, working in an office near the apartment, and of course, he knew that Karina was still single."Don't lie, Karina, I know everything about you, besides, I don't accept rejection," he said to her.

He led her to the sofa, his hand still covering her mouth. She tried to struggle but his grip was firm, leaving her no room to escape. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her feel more exposed than she ever had before.

With surprising agility for a man of his size, Y/N bent down and, in one swift motion, tore Karina's shirt clean off her body. The fabric ripped easily, leaving her in just her lacy bra. She felt the coolness of the room on her bare skin and her heart raced.

Karina's eyes widened in shock and fear as she took in the sight of her torn shirt on the floor. The room spun around her, the books and furniture becoming a blur. She tried to push away the panic rising in her chest, telling herself to stay calm and think of a way out of this situation.

Y/N took a step back and admired his handiwork. His eyes traveled over her body, drinking in every inch of exposed flesh. The desire in his gaze made her feel like a piece of meat on display, and she shivered despite the warmth of the room. He sat down next to her, his leg brushing against hers, sending waves of terror through her body.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "I've wanted this for a long time, Karina," he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and determination. She could feel the weight of his body beside her, the heat radiating from his skin. Her mind raced for a solution, a way to get out of this nightmare without succumbing to his twisted desires.

The sound of his voice sent chills down Karina's spine. She could feel his breath on her neck, and she knew she had to act fast. Summoning all her strength, she pushed him away with all her might. The sofa screeched against the wooden floor as she stood up, but Y/N was quicker. He grabbed her by the wrists, his grip unyielding.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. But the only response she got was a low chuckle from Y/N. He pulled her closer, his face a mask of excitement.

"If you keep trying to escape, I'll make you faint," he threatened, his grip tightening around her wrists. Karina felt her pulse racing, her heart hammering in her chest. His strength was overwhelming, and she knew she was no match for him physically.

Her thoughts raced. If she could just keep him talking, maybe she could find a way out of this. "Okay," she said, her voice shaking. "I will do what you want, as long as you let me go afterward." It was a desperate bid for time, a hope that she could somehow convince him to change his mind.

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "As you wish," he said, his voice low and gruff. He pointed to the mirror in the corner of the room, the glass reflecting the dim lamplight. "Now, take off your bra and panties and masturbate over there," he instructed, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that made her stomach turn.

Karina's cheeks flushed with humiliation, but she knew she had to play along. She took a deep breath and began to unclasp her bra, her eyes never leaving his. The fabric fell away, revealing her bare breasts to the cold air. She tried to keep her movements as slow and deliberate as possible, buying herself every second she could.

Her hands trembled as she slid her panties down her legs, stepping out of them. She felt the floor against her bare skin and took a tentative step towards the mirror. Her eyes caught her reflection, and she saw the fear and desperation in her own eyes. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to focus on the task at hand.

Y/N watched her with rapt attention, his breathing heavy. "Look at me," he demanded. She opened her eyes and met his gaze in the mirror. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated with lust. "You have to masturbate until you orgasm, don't you dare lie," he threatened. The words sent a wave of revulsion through her, but she knew she had to play along.

Her hands began to move over her breasts, the sensation strange under his command. She had never felt so out of control, so exposed. As she touched herself, her body responded in ways she didn't expect. The fear began to mix with something else, something primal and unwelcome.

The minutes stretched into hours, or so it seemed to Karina. Her body was a vessel for his perverse pleasure, and she had become an instrument of his will. The orgasms came in waves, each more intense than the last. Her legs quivered, and she felt a sheen of sweat cover her skin. She didn't know how much more she could take, but he showed no signs of stopping.

"Faster," he growled, his voice sending tremors through her. She obeyed, her fingers moving in a blur as she watched herself in the mirror. The sight was surreal, a twisted reflection of herself that she barely recognized. Her mind was foggy with pleasure and pain, the line between the two blurring more with each passing second.

As she approached another peak, she could feel the ache in her core, a hunger that grew with each passing moment. Her own fingers weren't enough; she craved something more substantial, something that would fill her completely. Her thoughts strayed to his massive frame, the bulge in his pants that she had been trying to ignore.

Karina's cheeks flushed with shame as she found herself imagining his cock, thick and hard, taking her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she came again, the sound of her cries muffled by the hand still clamped over her mouth. When she opened them, she saw the approval in his gaze, and it only made her feel more degraded.

"You're a good girl," he praised her, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the very air around them. "Now, I'm going to let go of your wrists. If you stop, I'll know. And I won't be happy."

Her hands didn't stop moving, even when he released her. The need was too great now, the craving a living thing that demanded to be satisfied. Her eyes remained locked with his in the mirror, the only connection in this twisted dance of power and submission.

The room spun around her, the books and furniture becoming a blur. The only thing in focus was his hungry stare, the way his tongue traced the outline of his teeth as he watched her. Karina's mind raced, searching for a way out, but her body was trapped in a cycle of pleasure and pain that she couldn't escape.

"Please," she whimpered, her voice barely audible. "Y/N, give me your cock."

The words hung in the air like a confession, raw and desperate. He smirked, a victory shining in his eyes. "You have to ask for it," he said, his voice a taunt.

Karina felt the bile rise in her throat as she forced out the words. "Please, Y/N," she begged, her voice shaking. "Let me suck your cock."

The smirk on his face grew wider, and he leaned back on the sofa, his grip on her wrists loosening slightly. "Good girl," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now, get down on your knees and show me how much you want it."

Karina felt a mix of fear and anger swirl in her stomach, but she knew that resisting would only make things worse. Slowly, she sank to her knees, the cold floor sending a jolt of reality through her body. She could see the bulge in his pants, the fabric straining against his erection. Her mouth went dry at the thought of what was to come.

"Good," he said, his voice a low growl. "Now, tell me how much you want to degrade yourself for me."

Karina's stomach churned at the command, but she knew resistance was futile. She took a deep, shaky breath and whispered, "I want to degrade myself for you, Y/N." The words felt like acid on her tongue, but she forced them out, her eyes never leaving his in the mirror.

He leaned forward, his massive frame towering over her. "I want to hear you say it," he demanded, his voice a dark caress. "Say it like you mean it."

Her voice barely above a whisper, Karina repeated, "Please, let your slut suck your dick." The words tasted bitter, but she knew they were the key to unlocking this twisted game.

Y/N's smirk grew wider, and he released her wrists completely. She felt the weight of his gaze as she reached for his pants, her trembling fingers fumbling with the zipper. She took a deep breath and pulled them down, exposing his boxers. His erection strained against the fabric, and she swallowed hard.

When she pulled them down, revealing his cock in all its glory, she gasped. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was massive, thick and veiny, the head a dark purple that looked almost painful. It was the stuff of her darkest fantasies, but in this moment, it was a weapon of fear.

Karina's eyes went wide with shock. This was no porn star's cock; it was a beast that could split her in two. She felt a mix of dread and arousal as she took it in her hands, feeling the warmth and weight of it. It was the ultimate symbol of his power over her, and she couldn't help but feel a twisted fascination with it.

Her hand looked so small, almost comical, wrapped around his girth.

"How long and girth?" Karina asked, her voice quivering slightly, as she stared at the massive organ before her. It was a question that had been burning in the back of her mind since she first caught sight of it, a question she didn't dare voice aloud. Y/N chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.

"12 inches long, 6 inches thick," he said with a smugness that made Karina's stomach drop. She had heard of such sizes in her wildest fantasies, but to actually see one, to feel its weight in her own hand, was almost too much to bear.

Y/N took her hand and wrapped it around his cock, showing her how to grip it properly. His skin was velvety smooth, the head swollen and shiny with pre-cum. He guided her other hand to cup his balls, showing her how to handle them gently. His breathing grew heavier as she touched him, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.

"Open your mouth," he instructed, his voice thick with desire. Karina obeyed, her heart racing. He brought the tip of his cock to her lips, the smell of him musky and overwhelming. She took a tentative lick, tasting the salty precursor to what was to come. He groaned in approval, his hand guiding her to take more of him in.

He pushed into her mouth, inch by agonizing inch. She gagged, her eyes watering, but she didn't stop. She knew that if she did, it would only make things worse. His hand was in her hair now, pulling gently but insistently. She focused on breathing through her nose, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deeper.

The sensation of his cock filling her mouth was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was all she could do to keep her teeth from scraping his shaft, to keep her gag reflex at bay. He watched her in the mirror, his expression a mix of pleasure and concentration.

"Look at me," he murmured, and she did, her eyes watering. He began to move, fucking her mouth with a slow, steady rhythm. She could feel his cock sliding over her tongue, the head of it brushing the back of her throat. She tried to relax, to take him deeper, but it was a battle she was losing.

He pulled out slightly, giving her a moment to breathe. "Good girl," he said, his voice a caress. "Now, let me show you how it's done." He leaned back, stroking himself slowly, watching her with a hungry gaze.

Karina felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. She wanted to hate this, wanted to fight against the waves of pleasure that crashed through her body every time she thought of his cock inside her. But she couldn't. It was as if she had been programmed to crave this, to need it more than anything else.

He stood up, his cock swaying slightly with the movement. "On your knees," he ordered, his voice firm. She complied, her eyes never leaving his. He stepped closer, positioning himself in front of her.

"Now, watch and learn," he said, and she did. His hand moved in a blur, stroking his cock with a practiced ease that made her mouth water. His other hand reached out, caressing her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

He began to speak, his words a mix of instruction and seduction. "You need to relax your throat, let it open for me. Take it slow, don't rush." His voice was a purr, a siren's song that beckoned her closer.

Karina leaned in, her eyes glued to the sight before her. She took him back into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He groaned, his hand tightening in her hair. "That's it," he murmured, his eyes half-closed with pleasure.

As he fucked her mouth, she felt something shift within her. The fear and anger began to melt away, replaced by a burning need to please him. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, as if this was what she had been born to do.

Her mind was a haze of pleasure and pain as she took him deeper and deeper. The only thing that mattered was his cock, the feel of him in her mouth, the taste of him on her tongue. She was his, completely and utterly, and she didn't want it to end.

The tension in his body grew, his movements becoming more erratic. She could feel his orgasm building, the muscles in his thighs tensing. He pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock glistening with her saliva.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice thick with need. She did, her eyes wide with anticipation. He stroked himself, his hand moving faster and faster.

"Gluk gluk gluk," was the only sound Karina's mouth could produce as she stared, mesmerized by the sight of his cock. It was a wet, sloppy sound, a testament to the saliva that coated his shaft. Her own need grew, a desperate ache that made her want to beg for more.

Y/N's hand moved with purpose, the sound of his fist sliding along his cock a symphony of desire. Karina's eyes were glued to the sight, her own breathing matching his rhythm. The veins in his cock stood out, pulsing with each stroke.

"I'm going to come," he warned her, his voice strained. Karina nodded, her eyes never leaving his. She was his, and she would take it all.

With a roar, he exploded, his cum spurting into her mouth. She swallowed, her eyes watering from the sheer volume of it. It was like nothing she had ever tasted before, a mix of salt and musk that filled her mouth and coated her throat.

He came for what felt like an eternity, his cock pulsing with every spurt. She took it all, her cheeks bulging with his seed. When he was finished, she licked her lips, savoring the taste of him.

Karina felt a strange mix of satisfaction and humiliation, a heady cocktail that went straight to her head. She had never been used like this before, and she had never wanted it more.

Y/N's grip on her hair loosened, and she looked up at him, her eyes glazed with lust. He reached down and wiped the remaining cum from her face, his thumb sliding over her bottom lip. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a gentle praise that made her heart flutter.

The room was silent except for their ragged breaths. Karina felt a strange sense of peace wash over her, as if she had just passed some sort of twisted test.

"Now," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It's time for the real fun to begin." He picked her up effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist. Her heart raced as he carried her to the bedroom, the anticipation of what was to come making her wet with need.

He laid her down on the bed, his massive body looming over her. The mattress sank under their combined weight, the springs groaning in protest. His eyes never left hers as he spread her legs wide, the light from the lamp casting shadows over her exposed flesh.

With a predatory grace, he descended upon her, his tongue parting her folds. Karina gasped as he began to lick her, his tongue swirling and darting in a way that made her hips buck off the bed. She had never felt anything so intense, so all-consuming. It was as if every nerve in her body was focused solely on the sensation of his mouth on her most sensitive spot.

His tongue felt like fire against her clit, the pressure building with each pass. She moaned, her hands clutching the bed sheets in a desperate attempt to anchor herself to reality. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he devoured her.

The room was filled with the sounds of his wet, hungry mouth and her own desperate cries. The scent of their mingling arousal was thick in the air, a heady aroma that only served to drive her higher. She could feel her orgasm building, a wave that threatened to crash over her and sweep her away.

"Oh, God," she moaned, her voice hoarse from the effort of speaking. "Y/N, I'm going to come."

He didn't stop, didn't even look up from between her legs. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster, pressing harder. She could feel the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point.

And then, with a scream that seemed to rip from her very soul, she came. Her body convulsed, her muscles clenching around his tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

Y/N pulled away, his face glistening with her juices. He gave her a smug look, his eyes dark with lust. "Good," he said. "Very good."

Karina lay there, her body still shaking with the aftershocks of her climax. She had never felt so utterly dominated, so completely owned. And yet, she wanted more.

"Have you ever squirted?" Y/N asked, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. Karina shook her head, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He chuckled, a deep, dark sound that sent a thrill through her.

"Let's change that," he murmured, his tongue delving deeper into her folds. He was relentless, his movements precise and calculated. Karina could feel the tension building again, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness that shocked and excited her.

His fingers found her g-spot, pressing and curling in a way that made her eyes roll back. She was so close, so close to something she had only read about, something she had never dared hope to experience. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she could feel her body tightening around him.

"Come for me," he said, his voice a command that she couldn't ignore. And with a scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, she did. Her body spasmed, her muscles clenching and releasing in waves of pure pleasure. She could feel the warmth of her release flooding out, soaking the bed beneath her.

Y/N's eyes never left hers as she squirted, the expression on his face a mix of awe and hunger. He watched her with the intensity of a predator, his tongue still working her clit with a skill that was almost unbelievable. The sensation was too much, and she felt herself being pushed to the brink of consciousness.

"Ahhhh... It is so good, fuck," Karina moaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. The feeling of release was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a powerful, all-consuming orgasm that seemed to shake the very core of her being. She bucked her hips upward, her body begging for more of his touch.

Y/N's eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger as he watched her climax, his own desire clear in the bulge of his pants. Without missing a beat, he slid two fingers into her soaking wet pussy, his movements deliberate and slow. She gasped, the sudden intrusion making her body tense again.

He began to pump his fingers in and out of her, his thumb rubbing her clit in slow circles. The sensation was overwhelming, the aftershocks of her orgasm mixing with the building tension of a new one. "Do you want more, Karina?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper that seemed to echo in the room.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she could only nod in response, the words lost in the haze of pleasure. He took it as an affirmation and began to pick up the pace, his fingers moving faster and deeper. She could feel her walls clenching around him, her body greedily taking all that he had to give.

Karina's moans grew louder, her breath coming in pants as she approached the peak once more. Her eyes remained locked with his in the mirror, the sight of his powerful body above her, his fingers working their magic, only serving to fuel her desire. She had never felt so alive, so in the moment.

Her hips began to move with his rhythm, her body instinctively seeking out the sensation that she knew would push her over the edge. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, and she could feel her orgasm building, a storm gathering on the horizon.

"Yes, yes, I want more," she finally managed to gasp out, her voice a desperate plea. He smirked, a knowing look in his eye that said he had her exactly where he wanted her. He added a third finger, stretching her even further. The sensation was almost too much to handle, but she craved it.

Her muscles tightened around his fingers, her pussy squeezing and releasing in a frantic dance. His movements grew more urgent, his own breathing ragged with the effort of holding back. The bedrock of tension within her shuddered, and she knew she was on the brink of something incredible.

With a final, powerful thrust, he hit her g-spot, and she screamed as the orgasm crashed over her. Her body arched off the bed, her back bowing as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her. It was as if she was being torn apart from the inside out, reborn in a sea of ecstasy.

Y/N watched her with a satisfied expression, his own need palpable in the air. He slowly removed his fingers, his gaze never leaving hers. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

The room spun around her, the only anchor the sound of his voice. She was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her release. And yet, she could feel the hunger building again, a need that was insatiable.

Y/N's voice grew more urgent. "Now get all on four," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. Karina's legs felt like jelly, but she managed to push herself up onto her knees. Her breasts bounced with the movement, her nipples hard and sensitive. The fabric of the bed was rough against her skin, the friction adding to the delicious ache between her legs.

He positioned himself behind her, his breath hot against the back of her neck. "Spread your legs," he said, his voice a low growl. She felt his cock brush against her inner thigh, and she couldn't help but whimper. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Without warning, she felt his tongue slide along her slit, the sensation so intense that it made her jolt. He chuckled, his breath warm and damp against her skin. "Relax," he murmured, his tongue delving deeper into her folds. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on the feeling of him tasting her, licking her, consuming her.

He teased her mercilessly, his tongue flicking and swirling around her clit. She could feel her body tightening again, the pressure building. It was as if he had unlocked a secret part of her that she had never known existed. She was his plaything, and she loved every second of it.

He took his time, savoring her taste, driving her to the brink of insanity. Every time she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he would ease back, only to plunge in again with renewed vigor. Her hips rocked back against his face, her body begging for more.

"Oh God," she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to come again."

He didn't answer, just kept licking, his tongue now moving in slow, deliberate strokes that made her pussy clench around his fingers. He added a fourth digit, and she cried out, the sensation of being so filled, so stretched, making her feel like she was going to break apart.

But she didn't break. Instead, she shattered into a million pieces, her orgasm so intense that she saw stars. Her pussy spasmed around his hand, her juices flooding out of her.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, she felt his cock pressing against her opening. He was so thick, so hard, that she could feel herself stretching around him, her muscles protesting.

He didn't give her time to adjust, just pushed inside with one swift movement that made her scream. The pain was immediate, but it quickly gave way to a deep, intense pleasure that stole her breath away.

"Fuck, so big," Karina moaned, her voice high-pitched and desperate. "I'm going to cum."

Y/N's laugh was dark and triumphant. "You're such a slut, Karina," he said, his voice a sneer. "Already cumming from initial penetration. You're just like all the others."

The pain was intense, a burning sensation that made her want to pull away, but she knew better. She pushed back into him, taking him deeper, the heat of his body against hers making her skin tingle. "It's because your cock is so fucking big," she managed to say through gritted teeth, her voice thick with lust.

He began to move, his hips pumping into her with a slow, steady rhythm that made her moan. The pain morphed into something else, something dark and delicious that had her panting for more. Her nails dug into the bed, her body moving in time with his, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

"Fuck, yes," she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. "I can feel it in my stomach!" The intensity was almost too much to handle, but she reveled in it, her body stretching to accommodate his massive size. His hands were on her hips, guiding her, holding her in place as he claimed her.

Y/N's grip tightened, and with a smack, he slapped her ass. The sound was sharp, punctuating the rhythm of their fucking. Karina's eyes widened in surprise, but the pain was quickly followed by a burst of pleasure that had her pussy clenching around him even harder.

"Do you like it when my big cock destroys your pussy, slut?" he growled, his voice thick with desire. She could feel his hand tense before the next smack, the anticipation sending a shiver down her spine.

"Ahh, yes, Y/N," Karina gasped as the pain flared up again, her ass stinging from the impact. But it was a sweet, delicious pain, one that only added to the intense pleasure building within her. She pushed back against him, her body begging for more, the bulge of his cock pressing into her abdomen with each powerful thrust.

He didn't hold back, his hips slamming into her with a force that made the bed creak in protest. Her breasts bounced with each impact, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through her body. She could feel the head of his cock brushing against her cervix, a feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Ahh, your cock is bulging under my stomach," Karina managed to gasp out, her voice strained with the effort of speaking. She could feel his length stretching her to the limits, filling her completely. The pain in her ass was a constant throb, a reminder of the power he held over her.

Y/N chuckled, his voice dark and filled with satisfaction. "Squirt for my cock, Karina," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. She didn't know how she could possibly come again, but the command in his voice made her body respond, her pussy clenching around him.

He began to fuck her harder, his cock pistoning in and out of her with a force that left her gasping. She could feel herself building again, the pressure in her belly growing until it was almost unbearable. And then, with a scream that echoed through the apartment, she did it.

Her pussy spasmed, and she squirted all over his cock, the force of it pushing him out of her. It was like a geyser, a torrent of fluid that soaked the bed beneath them. Y/N's eyes widened, and he stared at her, his own arousal clear on his face. "Again," he demanded, and she nodded, her body already responding to his command.

He slammed back into her, his cock slipping into her easily despite her tightness. She could feel the head of his cock pressing against her g-spot, the sensation sending her over the edge once more. She squirted again, the force of it pushing him almost out of her.

This time, he was ready. He held her hips down, his grip bruising, as he kept pumping into her. Her pussy convulsed around him, the feeling of her release gripping him in a vice-like hold. He groaned, his own orgasm building within him.

"Fuck, you're so good," he grunted, his hips moving faster and faster. "So fucking good." His hand reached around, his thumb pressing hard against her clit as he drove into her. She could feel her body responding, the walls of her pussy clamping down on him, her juices flowing like a river.

With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her. She felt his cock pulse, his warm cum filling her up. The sensation of being so full, of being claimed so completely, sent her over the edge again. Her body tensed, her pussy spasming around him as she came, the force of her orgasm pushing his cum out of her, mixing with her squirt.

The room was a symphony of their moans and the slap of skin against skin. Karina's vision swam, her body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. Y/N pulled out of her, his cock still twitching with the last vestiges of his climax. He stared down at her, his chest heaving.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a possessive growl. "You will always come for me, no matter how much you resist."

Karina collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and spent. She knew he was right. Some twisted part of her craved this, the feeling of being used and dominated by him. She was his, and she never wanted to leave this bed, this apartment, his control.

Y/N leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a bruising kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, the flavor of her own arousal mixing with the salt of his sweat. His tongue danced with hers, claiming her mouth just as thoroughly as he had claimed her body.

When he pulled away, she was left gasping for air, her eyes glazed with lust. "What's next?" she whispered, her voice a needy plea.

He smiled, a cold, cruel smile that sent a shiver down her spine. "Now," he said, "we're going to see just how much you can take."

He reached into the nightstand, pulling out a set of handcuffs. The metal was cold against her wrists as he secured them to the bed frame, her heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

"You're going to scream for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "And I'm going to enjoy every single second of it."

The room grew colder, the only warmth the fire that raged in her belly. She was his toy, his to do with as he pleased, and she wouldn't have it any other way. As the cuffs clicked into place, she knew that she was in for a night she would never forget.

He stood over her, his cock still hard and glistening with their combined fluids. "Ready?" he asked, a glint in his eye.

Karina took a deep breath, nodded, and whispered, "Yes, Y/N. I'm ready." Her heart pounded in her chest, the anticipation of what was to come making her body tremble. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But she also felt alive, more alive than she had in a long time.

Y/N picked up a flogger from the bedside table, the leather strands shimmering in the soft light. He trailed it gently across her skin, and she flinched at the touch. "This will hurt," he warned her, his voice a dark promise. "But you will take it. You will take it for me."

Her breath hitched as he brought the flogger down across her back, the leather biting into her flesh. It stung, the pain sharp and intense. But she didn't scream. Instead, she moaned, the sound of her own pleasure mixing with the pain. Each strike brought a new wave of sensation, a dance of agony and ecstasy that she couldn't get enough of.

He worked his way down, the flogger landing on her ass with a satisfying thwack. She felt the skin there warm and redden, the sting of each hit making her pussy clench with need. "Y/N," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea.

He leaned down, his mouth by her ear. "You're doing so well," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "But we're just getting started." He paused, the room silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing.

And then he struck again, the leather strands wrapping around her body and biting into her skin. She cried out, her body arching with the sensation. He varied the intensity, sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh, always keeping her guessing.

The smell of leather and sex filled the air, a heady mix that only served to heighten her arousal. She could feel herself growing wetter, her pussy swollen and begging for his touch. "Please," she moaned, not sure what she was asking for.

He set the flogger aside, his hand replacing the leather. His touch was firm, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass as he began to spank her again. "Count," he ordered, his voice firm.

"One," she gasped, as his hand came down again. "Two," she counted, her voice growing more strained. "Three, four, five..." With each number, the pain grew more intense, but so did the pleasure. Her body was on fire, a raging inferno that threatened to consume her.

Y/N's hand moved faster, the slaps falling in a steady rhythm that had her moaning and writhing on the bed. "Ten," she choked out, the word barely audible. "Please, more."

He complied, his hand landing with a satisfying smack on her ass again and again. Her skin was on fire, the sting of each hit only adding to the burning need between her legs. "I can't," she gasped, her voice tight with pain and pleasure.

"You can," he said, his voice a low growl. "You will." He leaned down, his teeth grazing her ear. "Because you're mine. You're going to take everything I give you and beg for more."

The words sent a shock of pleasure through her, and she nodded, her eyes squeezed shut. "Yes, Y/N," she whispered. "I'm yours."

He reached between her legs, his fingers sliding through her wetness. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He slid two fingers inside her, his hand moving in time with the spanks.

Karina felt herself spiraling out of control, the pain and pleasure merging into a single, overwhelming sensation. Her orgasm built, a crescendo that seemed to go on forever. And when it finally crashed over her, she screamed his name, her body convulsing with the power of it.

Y/N watched her, his own desire burning even hotter at the sight of her submission. He pulled her down onto the bed, his cock still rock-hard and demanding. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice a low rumble. "Show me what a good little slut you can be."

Her legs still trembled as she positioned herself above his cock, straddling his hips. She felt the head of his dick nudging at her entrance, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She was so sensitive from the previous orgasms that even the slightest touch made her shiver.

Without warning, Y/N grabbed her hips and pulled her down, impaling herself on his cock with a sharp cry. "Ahh, Y/N," she gasped as he filled her up completely. She could feel every inch of him, stretching her out and filling her up with a delicious pressure that made her eyes water.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands tightening on her hips. "You're so tight."

Karina bit her lip, her voice trembling as she leaned back, pointing her stomach. "Your cock is reaching here," she whispered, the words filled with a mix of awe and fear. He chuckled, the sound deep and sinister, as he began to thrust up into her, his hips meeting hers in a punishing rhythm.

Her body was a wreck, muscles sore from the abuse of the previous climaxes, but she didn't dare protest. She knew that she had signed up for this when she stepped into his apartment, and she was going to see it through. Her eyes watered as she bounced up and down on his cock, trying to find a rhythm that didn't make the pain unbearable.

"AHHH," she gasped as she took him in deeper, his shaft hitting her g-spot with every bounce. She could feel his cock throb with every thrust, the veins pulsing beneath the velvety skin. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her pussy clench around him.

"Yes, my slut," Y/N grunted, his hips moving faster and more forcefully beneath her. "Cum for my cock." His words were a command, a demand that her body responded to instinctively. She felt the pressure building, the heat in her belly spreading out like wildfire.

With a scream that seemed to tear from her very soul, Karina's pussy clenched around his shaft, her muscles contracting in a powerful orgasm. Her juices gushed out of her, soaking him, the bed, everything. The force of it was so intense that she felt his cock slip from her grasp, the sudden emptiness making her gasp.

Y/N chuckled, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He grabbed her hips, pulling her back down onto him. She could feel his cock throb with renewed vigor as he began to fuck her harder, his hips bucking up to meet her every move. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, the tips brushing against his chest hair, sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

Her pussy was so sensitive, so swollen, that every stroke was like a brand-new orgasm. She could feel herself slipping, her body losing the battle against the relentless tide of pleasure that he was drowning her in. His cock was like a beacon, guiding her through the storm.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt herself falling into him, her body weightless against his powerful frame. His chest was a pillow of warm, solid muscle, his heart thundering against her cheek as he drove into her. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, keeping her in place as she rode him like a wild animal in heat.

But then, she whispered it, the words a desperate plea. "I can't ride anymore, Y/N. Forgive me." Her voice was barely audible, lost in the symphony of their mingled breaths and the slap of flesh against flesh. Y/N's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, but he didn't miss a beat, his hips continuing to piston up into her.

"Ahh, just like that," she moaned, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure. "Just fuck my pussy, Y/N." He smirked, his grip on her hips tightening, his thrusts growing more demanding. Karina's head fell back, her hair cascading down her back as she lost herself in the rhythm of his movements.

Y/N leaned back, his hands moving to her breasts. He squeezed and pinched the sensitive flesh, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched her face contort with every sensation. "You like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a dark whisper in the quiet room. "You like when I fill your tight little cunt."

Karina's pussy clenched around him, and she could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building. She nodded, her voice lost in a moan. "Yes, Y/N," she managed to murmur. "I love it."

The words seemed to spur him on, his strokes growing faster and more erratic. "You're so tight," he grunted, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's like you were made for my cock."

Karina's body was a whirlwind of sensation, a maelstrom of pleasure and pain. Each thrust seemed to hit her g-spot with surgical precision, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through her. "It's just ur dick is so big, Y/N," she gasped, her voice strained. "So...so thick."

Y/N smirked, his eyes gleaming with arrogance. "I told you," he murmured, his voice a dark purr. "You're mine now." He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into her, the force making her eyes roll back in her head.

Karina could feel his cock touching places inside her that she didn't know existed, reaching depths that she had never felt before. It was as if her body had been made for him, molded by his desire to fit him perfectly. "Ahh, Y/N," she gasped, her nails digging into his chest. "It's so deep."

Y/N's eyes darkened, his teeth gritted with the effort to hold back his own climax. He knew she was close, could feel the tightness of her pussy around him, the way her muscles tensed with every thrust. "You're going to come for me," he said, his voice a demand. "Now."

With that, he reached between her legs, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit. Karina's eyes snapped open, her pupils dilating with the sudden, intense sensation. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream as the orgasm took her. Her body bucked and convulsed, her pussy spasming around his cock.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm cumming!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with pleasure. Her pussy clamped down on him, the walls pulsing with each wave of her orgasm. He groaned, feeling her juices coating him, her warmth gripping him like a vice.

Y/N's own release was building, his balls tightening with the promise of a powerful climax. He could see the desperation in Karina's eyes, the need for him to fill her completely, to mark her as his. "Take it," he grunted, his hips slamming into hers. "Take all of me."

Her pussy was contracting around him, the muscles pulsing with every thrust. He could feel her getting closer, her breath hitching with every stroke. "Please, Y/N," she begged, her voice a whimper. "Please, let me cum again."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He leaned up, his thumb finding her clit once more. He rubbed it in circles, increasing the pressure with every pass. Her hips began to move in sync with his hand, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

"Please," she begged, her voice strained. "Please, let me cum again." Her pussy was so tight around his cock, her juices making it slick and hot. He could feel the beginnings of his own climax, the tension in his balls growing with every stroke.

Y/N leaned in, his teeth grazing her neck as his thumb continued to work her clit. "Beg for it," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Tell me you need it."

"I do," Karina sobbed, her voice a desperate plea. "I need to cum, please, Y/N. I can't take it anymore." Her pussy was clenching around him, desperate for release. The pain was a constant throb, a reminder of the boundaries he had pushed and the price of her submission.

With a snarl, Y/N drove into her one last time, his cock swelling within her tight channel. "Now," he grunted, his thumb pressing down on her clit with all the strength he had left. Karina's body responded immediately, her orgasm slamming into her with the force of a freight train.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she screamed, her nails digging into his skin as her pussy spasmed around him. He could feel the warm rush of her release, her walls contracting in a vice-like grip that threatened to pull the very essence of him out. He couldn't hold back any longer, his own orgasm barreling through him like a storm.

With a roar, he filled her completely, his cum jetting into her in thick, hot spurts. The sensation of her tight pussy milking him was almost too much, and he came harder than he ever had before. The room was filled with the sounds of their shared pleasure, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

As the last tremors of their shared climax faded, Karina felt her consciousness slipping away. Her body was a limp mess of pleasure-soaked limbs, her mind a haze of lust and submission. She didn't know how long she had been with Y/N, but she knew she didn't want it to end.

Y/N watched her with a mix of satisfaction and concern, his breathing finally evening out. He reached out, his hand gentle as he cupped her cheek. "Look at me, Karina," he said, his voice a command even as his eyes searched hers.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she gazed up at him, her pupils blown with desire. "Y/N," she whispered, her voice a breathy gasp.

"You did well," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "So, so well." His praise sent a shiver of pleasure through her, her pussy clenching around his still-hard cock.

He leaned down, claiming her mouth in a kiss that was as much possession as it was affection. Karina melted into him, her body responding to his touch despite her exhaustion. She knew that she had found something in him that she had been craving, something dark and primal that she had never experienced before.

As the kiss ended, Y/N pulled out of her, the absence of his cock leaving her feeling empty and used. But it was a good empty, a good used, one that she knew she would crave again and again.

"Now sleep, Karina," he said, his voice a gentle command. "Tomorrow is a different day for you." He climbed off the bed, leaving her to lay there, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasms.

Her eyes followed him as he moved around the room, his naked body a vision of power and masculinity. He was a force of nature, unstoppable and all-consuming. And she was his, completely and utterly.

He returned with a warm, wet cloth, gently cleaning her up. The coolness of the fabric against her overheated skin was a relief, and she sighed as he took care of her. He was so tender, so gentle in his dominance. It was a stark contrast to the aggression he had shown earlier, and she found it incredibly arousing.

Y/N tucked her into bed, his eyes lingering on her bruised and swollen flesh. She felt a twinge of pain, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth of his gaze. "You did well tonight," he murmured, his voice a soft caress.

"Thank you, Y/N," she whispered, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but she knew she was in for more of the same. And she couldn't wait.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her forehead in a soft kiss. "Rest now," he said. "You're going to need your strength." With that, he flicked off the light, leaving her in the darkness.

Karina closed her eyes, the events of the evening replaying in her mind. The fear, the pain, the pleasure. It was all so intense, so overwhelming. But as she drifted off to sleep, she knew that she had found something she never knew she was looking for. A man who could give her everything she never knew she needed.

The mattress dipped as Y/N climbed into bed beside her, his arm wrapping around her waist. She snuggled into his embrace, feeling safe and protected in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. His hand trailed down her body, coming to rest on her hip, his fingers flexing gently.

"Tomorrow," he whispered into the darkness. "Tomorrow, we'll see just how much more you can take." The words sent a thrill through her, a promise of more pleasure and pain, more submission and control.

As she drifted off to sleep, her body still pulsing with the echoes of her orgasms, Karina knew that she was in for the most intense experience of her life. And she was ready to embrace it, ready to become whatever he needed her to be.

[timetravellingkitty]

everyday i see clueless westerners (especially white people) peddle thinly veiled hindutva propaganda which they wouldn't know cause they know absolutely nothing about what goes on in india. so here are some signs that that the person you're talking to is a hindu nationalist:

they either do not acknowledge casteism or claim that caste is a western construct. my personal favourite however is dismissing anyone bringing up caste discrimination by saying that the indian constitution outlaws untouchability. they may also bring up the fact that the prime minister belongs to an other backwards class (obc) so clearly india has moved on from caste and hindutva isn't only for the upper castes. they possess a shallow understanding of caste

harping on about "islamic colonisation" : no, the mughals did not colonise india. when you point this out, they will immediately assume that you think muslim invaders were innocent beings who did nothing wrong, which is very much not what anyone is claiming here

while we're on the topic of "islamic colonisation" they will also refer to the demolishing of muslim sites of heritage and worship and then building hindu temples over them as "decolonisation" (cough cough ram mandir) the hindu right also goes around pretending that they're the indigenous people of india

along a similar vein, they will dismiss islamophobia by bringing up instances of hindu oppression in countries like pakistan and bangladesh. it is true that hindus are persecuted in these two countries, however they are used to fuel their oppression complex, that their upper caste hindu self is under attack in india of all places (think a white christian in the united states). you should be in solidarity with minorities everywhere. it is neither transactional or conditional (note: they will never bring up sri lanka. persecution of hindus exists only when the oppressors are muslim)

claiming that hindu nationalism and hindutva are not the same because hindutva means "hindu-ness". that is only the literal translation of the term. like it or not, they're the same thing

they support the indian military occupation of kashmir. they will call it an integral part of kashmir, one reason which will be "hinduism is indigenous to kashmir." they will also bring up the last maharaja of kashmir signing the instrument of accession as further proof, as if the consent of the people was taken

they're zionists. do i even need to explain this. hindutva is just zionism for hindus

they refer to buddhism and jainism (sikhism too sometimes) as branches of hinduism rather than separate, distinct religions

they condemn any resistance to the indian govt as a burden or terrorism (like calling the farmers who are currently protesting a hindrance or terrorists. funny how sikhs are the same as hindus when they support hindu causes but terrorists when they resist oppression...)

they call you a pseudo liberal or a fake leftist. i'm telling you, they don't know jackshit. they can't even tell the difference between a liberal and a leftist and call US unread lmao. bonus points if they call you a liberandu or a sickular 💀

they call india "bharat" when they talk in english. there are in fact multiple indian languages that call india bharat or bharatam, but if they say bharat while talking in english, that is absolutely a hindu nationalist no questions asked

please do your due diligence. read up on hindutva. hindu nationalists have already started making gains in the united states, thanks to rich upper caste nris. do not fall for propaganda

[puppybei]

Unsaid Dreams

Chapter 6 (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Modernau!Sukuna x Mother!Reader

Genre: Hidden Baby Trope

Summary: Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from.

Tw: Misunderstandings!! So many of them!! Sukuna curses like twice. Sukuna slams a door in your face. Hana calls you mumma. Domestic life!!!

Wc: 2.7k

The room was enveloped in silence as you finally stopped talking, Hana fast asleep in your arms by the time it was an hour to midnight. Sukuna was quiet throughout the entire ordeal, sometimes he looked like he wanted to interject and would open his mouth, only for you to shake your head and he would sit back down.

He had run his fingers through his gelled hair, a few strands falling out of place and you were itching to fix it up for him, old habits die hard. Some way through the recollection Sukuna had shrugged off his suit jacket and the two fist shaped sugar marks stared at you mockingly. 

“Why didn’t- fuck I don’t even-,”

You jerked your head towards Sukuna who was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, guilt enveloping you as you watched him avert his gaze to the child snuggled against you.

“Do… Do you want to hold her?”

The words came out of your mouth before you realized it, shocking yourself as you watched Sukuna’s reaction. 

His huge arms reached out, hand almost trembling as he placed his hand on top of Hana’s head, the child shifting in her sleep as she tried to move closer to the source of warmth. 

The man jerked his hand back, shoving it in his pocket as he stood up from the chair, looking over your figure,

“You’re exhausted. You should get some sleep. Where’s your husband,”

For a minute there you thought the great Ryoumen Sukuna had a slip of tongue, confusion painting your features,

“My… what?”

Sukuna looked like you had personally insulted him, cocking a brow up as he stared down at you,

“Don’t act stupid with me. Where the fuck is he?,”

You could feel the incoming headache staring at the six foot man who was now looking around, like he’d suddenly find your aforementioned husband hidden in the bakery. His gazed a bit longer at the pictures decorating the pastel walls, lingering on a picture of when you had just opened the bakery up with a one year old Hana sleeping in your arms, a carefree look on your face,

Hana stirred in her sleep, restless and almost waking up from the ruckus her parents were creating. You shushed her, smoothing a hand over her hair, cooing at her as you hummed a lullaby.

Sukuna stood still, affection blooming in his chest, the feeling so foreign he thought he was sick.

“We’ll talk in the morning, I need to put Hana to sleep. See you later Sukuna.”

You stood up from the chair and Sukuna took a step forward, wrapping a hand around your upper arm,

“No the fuck not. I’m not letting you get away from me again,”

Your skin burned under his touch, turning your head around to glare at him,

“What’s that supposed to mean,”

Sukuna let go of your arm, invading your personal bubble as he moved closer, an inch away from touching you,

“I’m staying over.”

Your mouth opened in shock, whole body going stiff as you tried to process the man’s words,

“You’re going to… what?”

You asked exasperated, taking a step back though Sukuna just followed you, cutting the distance in another step,

“I’m sure your husband will understand,”

Sukuna smirks, shrugging as if this was a daily occurrence. You paused for a second, running through your choices. It was a little past midnight now, the small town barely had any hotels and you don't know if you had it in you to shun Sukuna away

You bit your lip in thought, turning your body around as you grabbed the purse off the table, casting one last backward glance at the smug man who knew he had won. 

“Just follow me,” 

Balancing Hana on one hip you started to fiddle with the purse, using the hand not supporting Hana to pry open the clasp, eyebrows furrowed as you struggled to get the purse open. Suddenly your arm didn't feel so heavy anymore, a weight lifted off your hip as you looked at Sukuna cradling Hana.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. When you had first moved to the small town, still a fresh student out of college and struggling both with Hana and the bakery, your mind often conjured up what life would be like if Sukuna was with you. The photo album dedicated to Sukuna was one you visited frequently after putting Hana to sleep, imagining him holding his baby, or laying next to you on those gruelling nights comforting you.

When Hana turned two, you had given up hope of him finding you. Sukuna was rich and powerful, you knew he just had to snap his fingers and he could’ve found you in less than a day. So the mere fact he didn’t try to after almost a full three years- well that was enough to stop your silly fantasies and delete the photo album that once used to comfort you.

Sukuna had one arm wrapped securely around Hana, the other patting her back as she got used to the change in position, her small body curled up against his broad chest. The size difference was comical- almost even sweet to look at. It made you wonder how married life with Sukuna could have been- a notion you gave up long ago. You shook your head, cringing internally at how quick your mind went to those fantasies, willing yourself back to reality as you finally got the backroom keys out of your bag. 

The door opened to a short lawn, a pebbled pathway leading to the steps of the small two story house. Sukuna followed behind you, dress shirt stained with Hana’s drool, a wet patch forming just below his collarbones. 

After you entered the house you took Hana from his arms, wordlessly changing her into her pajamas as she blearily sat down on her bed, letting you pull the Hello Kitty patterned shirt over her head while Sukuna stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed as his gaze burned holes in your back. 

You kneeled on Hana’s nursery room floor, tucking her in as you kissed her forehead, pushing back some of the stray pink hairs that stuck to her forehead, placing her beloved soft tiger plush into her arms as she drifted off.

On the other hand Sukuna was going absolutely crazy, what kind of fuck ass husband doesn’t even look after his wife? Let alone allow her to invite another man into their house in the dead of the night. If Sukuna was your husband he knew he’d cut the arm off of any man who dared to so much as look in your general direction. 

He clenched his jaw, shaking himself out of the thoughts that muddled his head. He hadn't seen any photos when he passed through the corridors of the house, drinking in every small decoration and photo with greedy eyes. He couldn’t find a photo of the man he saw five years ago yet, were you hiding him? Sukuna felt smug, you never hid him when you were together. 

In fact if he dug up the old box that contained the things you left behind he would find the thousands of framed photos where you stood so sweetly next to him, body flush against him with his favorite smile on your face- fuck he really had to stop thinking about the past. You’re not his, well not anymore. 

“The guest room is downstairs,”

Your voice shook Sukuna out of his thoughts, he stared down at you standing in front of the doorway, eyes trailing down to the expanse of your unmarked neck, then down to the dip in your shirt before he snapped his gaze back upwards.

He finally moved from the doorway, ears tinged red as he turned his head away from you. Still watching you as you descended down the stairs, opening the door to your guest room. You were patting down the pillows, trying to make the room look a bit more presentable when you felt Sukuna behind you, hand on your hip as he pulled you back upright, glaring at you again, 

“Just go sleep, it’s not like I haven’t seen worse” 

You opened your mouth to argue back but Sukuna merely pushed you out of the room, slamming the door in your face as you heard him fall into the bed with a grunt. 

“Good to know you haven't changed jerk,”

You mumbled under your breath, going to the master bedroom, changing out of your clothes and doing your nightly routine before falling asleep a little before one in the morning. 

The blaring alarm woke you up from your deep sleep, forcing you to pull the covers off your body and make your way to the nursery. Hana was still fast asleep by the time you opened her room, gently coaxing her awake so she wouldn’t be in a foul mood first thing in the morning. She followed you into the washroom, brushing her teeth while still half asleep. You left her there after finishing your own morning routine, letting her take her time through everything  

Sukuna was surprisingly awake, manspreading on the way too small dining table as his knees hit the underside every time he shifted in an effort to get more comfortable. A computer sat in front of him, blue light dancing on his face as he typed away in the dark living room. 

“Unusual for you to be up so early,”

He almost snapped his head from moving so fast to glare at you, stopping the incessant typing that was quite frankly starting to get on your nerves if you were being honest, 

“Your husband didn’t come home all night, he cheating on you?” 

You stopped yourself from mixing in the pancake batter, turning around to look at Sukuna who had completely leaned back on the chair, legs spread in front of him like he owned the house you were paying for. 

“Listen I think we should clear something up-”

Hana chose that exact moment to come barging into the living room, her outfit making her red eyes stand out. You smiled at her, turning to face her as she ran up into your arms, 

“Hi baby, did you sleep well?” 

She nodded enthusiastically, her pink hair ticking your face as she wrapped her arms around your neck and glared at Sukuna,

“Mumma, why's the mean man still here?”

She tried to whisper into your ear, holding a hand next to her mouth as if that would make her voice any lower, 

‘The fuck you call me kid?”

Sukuna cursed and you glared at him while Hana stuck her tongue out. You set her down on the counter, mixing the batter with a whisk as Hana took a piece of toast, kicking her legs back and forth as she chewed on it quietly, Oh she could be such an angel when she wanted.

‘Mumma you’re getting dirty,” 

Hana scowled at the patches of white flour on the fabric of your clothes, pointing it out with her index finger, 

“Hana! Don’t point at people, that's very rude baby,” 

You scolded, moving closer to her and taking the piece of bread from her hands. Your back was turned to Sukuna so you didn't notice when he had moved behind you, grabbing an apron and looping it over your head. His fingers brushed past your back as he tied the bow securely, 

“Still as clumsy as ever woman.” 

His warm breath tickled the skin of your neck, heat rising up your cheeks as you stared at Hana who was pulling you closer, still glaring at Sukuna. He took a step back once he was done, the loss of heat almost made you whine. You hadn’t felt another man’s touch in a long while and Sukuna’s presence was doing much more damage than it should be doing.

“You should stay- for breakfast I mean,”

You turned around to look at Sukuna who was leaning against the kitchen marble, gazing at you fondly. That look only spurred your mind to rush back to how you felt when you were his, butterflies swarming in your stomach at the mere thought. 

“I have to drop Hana off and I’ll get your jacket cleaned too, we haven’t finished talking have we?’

Sukuna looked confused, looking at the jacket that was folded over one of the dining table chairs, finally noticing the fist shaped marks of powdered sugar, scowling at the sight. You were sure if you took a picture of Sukuna and Hana scowling side by side they could be mistakened for siblings,

The pancakes were finished and placed in front of Hana who sat on her tiny table, you pulled a chair next to her as she babbled on, gently combing through her hair, doing two twin ponytails while Sukuna went back to his work, sneaking glances at you every now and then. 

A sick, twisted part of you secretly enjoyed this, the familiarity of it all, the comfortable silence that you missed with Sukuna. The domesticity that you craved for so long ago was finally being granted to you. 

As Hana put her bag on, Sukuna interjected, shutting his computer off as he got up from the dining table for a second time, suit jacket folded over his arm and hands tucked into his pocket. His hair had fallen into his forehead, the lack of gel was driving him crazy as he constantly pushed the hair backwards, 

“I’ll come with you and the kid, don’t want you to run away while I’m not there,” 

He mumbled, pressing close to you as he grabbed the kid in his arms. Hana made a noise of protest but after she looked at you she kept quiet. You wondered how you looked to her right now, so many mornings you wished for a bit more time to yourself, for someone else to carry Hana on the twenty minute walk to the kindergarten. She was always so perceptive it made you feel guilty,

“Okay,”

You replied before changing into more appropriate clothes, meeting Sukuna at the doorstep where he held Hana up with one arm, biceps bulging around the fabric of his dress shirt as he folded his sleeves up to his elbow. The other hand held Hana’s bag, the pink bag standing out against the black suit Sukuna had on. 

Hana was babbling to Sukuna, a mischievous glint in her eye as she pulled at the strands of his pink hair, pointing to her own and giggling, Sukuna was grunting in response, amusing her even when he didn’t have to. 

The sight brought a warm feeling to your chest, wondering if hiding your child from him all those years ago was really the correct choice when they got along so well.

“Let’s go,”

You patted Hana’s back and Sukuna nodded at you, leaving the house and the bakery, letting you lead the way to the kindergarten. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over him every now and then- it wasn't a crime to enjoy good eye candy.

Hana was finally put down five minutes away from the kindergarten, she insisted on holding Sukunas hand who looked at you smugly as if he won some secret kind of competition that you were unaware you were even participating in. 

You had made a few friends with the other parents, waving to the mothers as their expressions morphed to disbelief at the six foot man who was saying his goodbyes to Hana. The five year old pressed a kiss to your cheek before running to Ren. Aoi’s son. 

Sukuna was standing right behind you, breathing into you neck as Aoi walked up to you with a suspicious expression,

“This is?” 

She started, giving one look over to Sukuna who had crossed his arms, stepping closer to you till his chest was flush against your back, giving a lazy look over to Aoi. You wanted to bury yourself in a ditch- truly why was the universe so against you trying to live your life, 

“This is Sukuna he’s-” 

Aoi clapped her hands in front of her face, a grin over taking her features as she put the pieces together, you had never bothered telling other people about your situation. You gave the same generative answer to anyone who asked about Hanai’s father- 

“Ah! He must be your husband! Hana looks just like him!” 

And there it was. 

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A/n: posting without my usual proof reader reading it because I need to get this chapter out of my system heh I feel so evil for doing this my apologies in advance!

[n0tamused]

I am the one who asked if you write for Phainon, and since you said yes, I shall request. First of all, congratulations for hitting 1500 followers! May your acc continue to flourish since your writings are so good.

For the event, may I request action 3 + fluff 22 for Phainon? And if it's okay, may I give context to the story?

Yk the sun birthmark on his neck? It would be nice to see reader checking him for any injuries after a battle but was distracted by it and impulsively kiss it, making Phainon shudder a little and flustered, but reader was a bit late to realize their action (that's when the line for fluff 22 begins) since I feel like he'd be the type to awkwardly act as if their action didn't just render him speechless.

˖ ࣪⊹Of bruises and kisses

Prompts: 3.A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking + 22.“You’re blushing.” “Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?”

A/n: I'm really sorry for the long wait </3 I have suddenly gotten very overwhelmed by uni and some personal matters. I do hope you enjoy this regardless, thank you for your patience and thank you for joining me for this event and for your kind words! <3

Contents: Phainon x GN!Reader, just fluff

Words: 647

Ko-Fi |  1.5K followers event(closed)

Candle smell permeates all around you, making the air feel stuffy and too heavy with the faint scent of orange and lavender. An odd mix, yet that didn’t stop Phainon from lighting them up all at once.

You had found him rummaging through the drawers for a wash cloth, limping on one leg - he didn’t return home long ago either. You had dropped every thought and went to assist him, listening to him ramble about how this is not as scary as it looks, he is fine, he didn’t actually get his leg hurt during sparring but he actually twisted his ankle going home! You couldn’t hear the rest of it, hands working on ridding him of his various layers to get to bare skin.

He had quieted by then, sitting down on the nearest chair you saw and led him to.

His hands were on his thighs, eyes lost somewhere in the distance, not looking at you, meanwhile your gaze ventured all over him, cutting him open in search of any injury, any bruise. To your great relief, there was nothing serious waiting to jump out at you under his shirt, only a few faint bruises in the blooming.

“One of these days you will give me a heart attack, with this fashion you just come and go” you scold as you got a cold cloth to dab press onto the most offending bruise, located on the upper part of his chest. He snorted lightly at your words, his head dipping backwards before it straightened, a daring look cast at your own gaze.

“I am a warrior of Okhema, I must always be ready for a battle” he replied, tone light but dripping with amusement. “I mean not to make you worry so much, you know I wouldn’t carelessly throw myself into Thanatos’ embrace”. His statement earned a scoff from you, a quick roll of your eyes, but Phainon faltered not.

“And besides, I think this makes me look even better, wouldn’t you agree?” 

He chuckled, his fingers flexing on top of his thigh as you took his chin in your hands to tilt his head back, turning it slightly to the side as a little red line caught your eye.

You ran your fingers over it, collecting the red color on your fingertips. It was a scratch, a nasty red looking thing. You brought the washcloth up over it, cleaning the area of any dust that may have been lost to your sight. Phainon felt the light sting of water and cloth, but no complaint came from him as he looked across the walls and the tapestry that seemed to stare back at him. It made him lose himself in the moment, humming a low tune as you fussed over him.

His mind only snapped back into the moment once he felt your warm pair of lips on his neck. Chills ran up his spine. He could feel your hair tickle his skin, your lips lingering on the mark of the sun tainting his skin. 

You had moved away by the time he had come to his senses to move, looking at you with, what he hoped was, a smug expression.

“You are blushing”

His cheeks were undeniably..warm feeling. There was a fire crawling under his skin. And maybe he was clutching onto his thighs a little. 

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” he grinned, but the expression only made the apples of his cheeks grow even more red. His eyes were smiling too, and you’re sure he would be wagging his tail if he had one. Phainon doesn’t share in your amusement when you begin to chuckle, and then to laugh, although he chuckles along with you. He is hoping to play it off. 

“Charm? Why I am happy you say you’re so easy to charm, Warrior of Okhema”

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[russo-woso]

Gentle || Alessia Russo

Prompt list here. Request here.

Summary A relaxing date with Alessia in Italy turns steamy when you return back to the hotel

Warning smut 18+, fingering, shower sex, strap on

You and Alessia had been in Italy for five days now and it had been filled with many memories.

Including the ones you’d just made during your date on the beach.

Alessia had surprised you with a picnic set up on the beach to celebrate your two year anniversary.

You decided to come to Italy for your anniversary because it was the first holiday destination you went with each other and of course, it was also Alessia’s heritage country.

The date was one of the best ones you’d ever had.

You cuddled into Alessia as you watched the sunset, the setting sun casting a golden haze upon the two of you.

Once the sun had set fully, you walked back to the hotel, giggling and talking whilst trying not to wake up your hotel neighbours.

You’d then both jumped in the shower, Alessia claiming that it was a way to save water, and not just a way to see you naked.

Alessia was already in the shower when you got in, a smile appearing on her face as you did.

The touches shared between the two of you in the shower were soft and gentle, the intimacy loving and affectionate.

There was a sense of familiarity as Alessia’s hands scratched shampoo into your scalp, her fingers dragging through your locks of hair.

Once she’d washed the shampoo out your hair, you turned your body to rest your head on her chest.

A sense of belonging was evident as you pressed your head more into her chest.

The smell of her hair, that strawberry sweetness of her shampoo, was all you could smell.

Alessia’s fingers ran up and down your spine, as the water of the shower hit you both softly.

You lifted your head up to look up at her, meeting her baby blue eyes that you’d grown obsessed with.

You couldn’t help but just look at her, thinking how lucky you were to spend the last two years with her, and hopefully the rest of your life.

“You’re so pretty.” Alessia told you, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“So are you.”

Alessia smiled gently before leaning down and placing her lips on yours.

It was a soft kiss to begin with.

Your lips moving in sync with one another’s, fitting together perfectly like a puzzle piece.

Alessia managed to slip her tongue past your lips and into your mouth, her tongue grazing your upper palate.

You moaned into the kiss as she bit down on your lower lip.

With great focus, so you didn’t fall, she walked the two of you backwards so your back hit the wall of the shower.

You grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss even more.

You wanted to be as close to Alessia as possible.

Her lips left yours and travelled down your jaw and onto your neck.

Burying a hand in her hair, you pulled gently, earning a quiet groan from the blonde striker.

Her lips stayed on your neck, leaving marks wherever she could on it, but her hands couldn’t stay in one place.

Travelling from your hips, to your bum, to your boobs, her hands were everywhere they could be.

“Can I touch you?” She mumbled against your neck, and you nodded immediately.

“Please do.” You begged

Her hands made their way down your body, as her fingers placed themselves on your clit.

You let out a breathy sigh at the contact, resting your head on Alessia’s shoulder.

“If you need to stop, let me know, okay?” Alessia said and you hummed. “Good girl.”

Alessia continued to rub her finger on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Moans were escaping your mouth non stop as Alessia put more pressure on the sensitive bud.

“Fuck, lessi, please baby. Please let me cum. Im so close. Please.” You babbled as you focused on the pleasure running through your body.

Alessia removed her fingers from your clit, bringing them down to your soaking core and thrusting in and out with ease.

“Fuck.” You repeated as she thrusted in and out, her fingers curling inside you with each thrust.

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me. Thats it baby, cum on my fingers.” Alessia said, feeling how close you were by the way your walls were tightening around her fingers.

“Im coming! Oh god - fuck.” You cried, biting your face in Alessia neck.

“Such a good girl.” Alessia cooed, her fingers coming to a halt. “Think you can do another round?”

“Yes.” Was all you could say, your orgasm having taking the air from your lungs and having clouded your mind.

“Come on then, pretty girl.” Alessia said, carrying you through to the bedroom, placing you on the bed.

Although you were wetting the bed from your shower, you didn’t care, your mind on other things.

A confused look appeared on your face as you noticed Alessia had disappeared, missing your blonde lover although she’d been gone for five seconds.

You looked around the room for her and you found her digging around the suitcase, a smirk on her face.

As she found what she was looking for, she looked at you with an even bigger smirk, waiting for your reaction to the mystery thing.

In her hands she held the biggest strap you owned, obviously packing it in the suitcase with her.

You felt like moaning at the sight of it, desperate to feel it in you.

Alessia set it upon her hips, tightening the harness before walking over to you.

The sight of her with the strap made you even wetter.

“Gonna fuck this pretty pussy so good.” Alessia murmured, her middle finger swiping through your folds.

“God, less.” You groaned at her words, your pussy clenching around nothing.

Alessia rested a hand on your stomach whilst the other one held the base of the strap, lining it up with your entrance.

“It’s so big, lessi.” You looked at her with doe eyes.

"I know it looks like a lot, but I'll go slow, I promise.” Alessia responded, pressing a kiss to your lips.

She slowly started thrusting in, a cry leaving your mouth as the toy stretched you out.

“I know, baby. Im sorry.” Alessia apologised, kissing your cheek before rubbing your clit, hoping to take the pain away.

Eventually Alessia’s skin hit yours and she’d bottomed out.

She stayed still for a moment, allowing you to get used to the size before pulling out and thrusting back in.

“Such a good girl for me. Taking my dick so well.” Alessia praised as you moaned.

Both of her hands rested on your hips as she pounded into you.

“So tight, love.” Alessia said through gritted teeth as she watched the toy disappear in you.

“You feel so good, lessi.” You tried to get out as Alessia pounded into you relentlessly. “Fuck, I’m so close, less. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, I promise, pretty girl.”

Alessia could tell how close you were.

Your knuckles were white as you gripped onto the bedsheets.

She could feel how you were tightening around the strap.

She leant done and connected your lips, swallowing all your moans.

“Im gonna cum, lessi. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

You grabbed ahold of her shoulders as she kissed your neck, leaving crevasses from where your nails were dug into them.

Alessia sped up her movements, making her thrusts hard and fast, wanting to make you cum quickly.

You let out a cry as your orgasm washed over you.

Moaning Alessia’s name as she continued her thrusts to let you ride your orgasm.

Eventually Alessia stopped her movements, the strap still inside you.

“God.” You breathed out, grabbing ahold of Alessia’s neck as her head rested on your chest.

“That was incredible, pretty girl.”

“Do you think the neighbours heard?” You asked her, your eyes widening in realisation.

“Probably?”

[am-i-interrupting]

Connected Stars

Summary: A moment between Aaravos, his daughter, and his wife.

Tags: Season 6 spoilers, autistic!reader, autistic!Leola

Once Aaravos thought he was living a life that was perfect. Oh, how wrong he was.

It took him time to realize but time was something he found himself having much of. He thought that life was pondering the mysteries of the cosmos but those mysteries paled in comparison to what he had now.

He looked up from one of his many books and out the window. On fields of green grass he saw you and his precious unicorn. Neither of you had a care for the rain that was dripping down onto your horns and hair.

In fact, it was rather the opposite. The two of you relished in it.

Leola had her head down but a bright, shining smile on her face. Her arms were tucked near her. Her hands flapped back and forth, shaking the water off her hands.

Your head was tilted backwards with a soft, content smile on your face. Your arms were stretched upward. Your hands clenched and unclenched like you were grasping at the rain.

Both of you jumped up and down.

Leola’s height was big. She moved up high. Her knees curled close to her body. Her legs bumped against her arms. He could hear her shrieking laughter from inside.

You didn’t jump as heigh. Your feet barely left the ground. When they reconnected with the earth, they were in a different spot than the last though. You spun in small, tight circles.

Aaravos stood from his desk. His work was something he could continue another time. This joy you shared with your daughter? That was precious. No tomb could ever hope to capture it.

For a moment, he watched the two of you. Leola’s laughter a more calming sound than the rain could ever hope to be. It soothed aches in his soul he never even knew existed.

With all the noise, it took no effort for him to sneak up behind his daughter and stop the rain from touching her skin with his upper body. It didn’t take but a moment for her laughter to stop.

Her head slowly tilted up before she shrieked.

Your relaxed posture snapped away. In less than an instant, your hands were poised to cast a spell. It was only when you saw your husband that your hand fell and the tension left. What replaced it was a flat expression that caused his smile to grow.

Leola ran from her father and he darted after her. It took no time for Aaravos to scoop her up within her arms. He shifted her to his hip as she reared her head back with a final shriek before her hands reached up, mimicking your own movements moments before.

Aaravos’s eyes softened as he looked from her to you. With his eyes on you, you began to spin once more. Your arms spread like a bird by your sides before they moved to the sky like your daughter’s.

Even with your eyes closed, it did not surprise you when Aaravos’s free hand grabbed your waist. Your hands swayed to the tune you hummed as they descended down. It was memory that allowed your hands to find his horns. They moved down into his hair and then to his neck.

His hand traveled up your side, past your shoulder and to your chin. He led you and you followed blindly into a kiss.

“Let us go inside,” Aaravos said.

Leola’s eyes shot open as she groaned. “Noooo,” she dragged out.

“Daddy’s right,” you said. “We wouldn’t want our precious unicorn to become ill, would we?”

You poked the tip of Leola’s horn.

“No,” she said softly.

Her finger curled around a section of Aaravos’s hair. The wet strands latched to her fingers. His hand moved back to your side as he led the two of you back inside.

[authorddreamz]

Protector - Deshon Dreamz

Protector – Deshon Dreamz

⚠️ cursing, mention of violence, guns

Word Count: 3K

Part 1: "I'd like to sleep in your bed..."

Her thighs burned. She'd been squatting behind this diesel bed for what felt like hours. Her heart banged loudly in her throat, overshadowing the elevated cadence of her pulse as it clouded her ears. The gravel beneath her feet pierced through her sandals, her body heavy with fear. The moon shifted in the sky, casting a darker cloud over the heated streets of Mississippi. Frantic breathes pushed through her lips as the sound of galloping grew closer to her. She felt confined, as if surrounded by an overwhelming force that seemed intent on disrupting her environment.  She closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer before moving her body backwards. A stray cat jumped from a car, starling her. A quick yelp escaped her before she covered her mouth, eyes extended as wide as the Nile. Heat sparked from the tailpipe of a nearby car, the engine revving into the night, disturbing the cool air. Annie didn't know if her life would end tonight, it hadn't been in any of her visions or throws, but she couldn't stop the burst of terror settling in her gut.

More galloping, more shouting.

I saw her go that way!

She can't be far!

We must kill her tonight!

Her hope of making it back home was fading like color from a bleached t-shirt. The street was clear, outside of the men who were tracking her and the ambient light shining from a building nearby. She knew she was pushing it coming back into town so late, but the city had everything she needed for a protection spell she was brewing just for times like this. Her grandmother taught her root work, she also taught her how to fight, negotiate, and shoot a gun, but she couldn't go up against four men with sticks, ropes, guns and misplaced rage. She knew she couldn't withstand them alone; there was no way she'd survive. So, she planned to hide as long as she could.

The sight of an open sign flickering off across the street caught her attention. Before she could think too much about it, she heard her grandmothers voice loud in her ear, a rushed whisper that turned frantic. "Go, Annie. Run as fast as you can."

She listened. Her feet pushed into the ground as she lifted, running as fast as her body would allow until she made it to the door. She could barely see through the fiberglass door, but she could make out a figure moving on the other side.

She knocked, her fist heavy with panic and uncertainty as she waited. After a beat, she knocked again- somehow harder this time.

The door was snatched open and suddenly Annie found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. Her entire body felt slack as her hands shot into the nights air. "I'm sorry!" She whined, voice smaller than normal.

He lowered the gun- only slightly. Brown, untrusting eyes swung past her, then to the left and right. He took her in slowly, eyes scanning her from head to toe. A toothpick hung from his thick lips as he leaned to the side to get a better view of her, around his revolver. Silence hung in the air as Annie continued to hold her hands up.

Smoke took in the dirt decorating the bottom of her dress, the mud smudged into her beautiful brown skin and the cloth bag thrown across her body. She released hard, earned breaths as terror danced in the depths of her soft brown eyes. He wanted to lower his gun but he knew better. "Why you banging on the door this late?"

Annie swallowed. "Running."

Smoke brow arched. "From?"

The sound of horses neighing caught her attention. She urgently turned back to the cold man before her. "Please let me in."

Smoke craned his neck out the door, looking at the approaching horses ridden by men with pale skin carrying fire torches, wood planks and rope. "Get inside." He stepped outside the door, allowing the woman past him. "Go all the way to the back, up the stairs and into the apartment on the upper level. I'll let you know when it's clear."

Annie nodded before doing exactly what she was told.

Smoke tucked his gun into his jeans, grabbing a blunt from his ear to light it. He flicked the toothpick from his mouth, placing the blunt between his lips. Any other man would have fear dancing on their skin. Not him. He'd been in the Delta long enough to know that men like the ones approaching him on horseback existed. He'd went up against them, was familiar with their battle tactics. He was unreservedly unmoved. He reached behind him, pulling the door to his shop closed as the men on horses came to a stop before him. His frown remained as one man, who he assumed was the ringleader of this shit show, climbed off his horse.

He slowly released smoke from between his lips; his eyes trained on the ringleader. "Y'all boys far from the outskirts. A long way from home." Smoke's eyes shifted. "Looking for something?"

"A witch." The ringleader spat. "We don't want no trouble."

"Trouble is exactly what y'all gone get barking up this tree." Smoke's face didn't shift at all. "Best y'all get going before it's too late."

"You don't understand. She needs to be handled."

"Fuck that gotta do with me?" Smoke questioned.

"You telling me you ain't seen her?"

"I'm telling you I don't know who the fuck you talmbout. I'm also telling you to leave before shit get uglier than you round here."

The ringleader mugged Smoke for a while, weighing his options. The man before him had a reputation that proceeded him for miles. There wasn't a soul in the Delta who didn't know the Smoke/Stack twins. They were a line you didn't cross. He stepped back. "Guess we'll be going then."

Smoke tilted his head. "Get to gettin' then."

Without another word and a bruised ego, the man mounted his horse, turning to go in the opposite direction with his folks behind him. Smoke released a grunt as he pulled the door to his business open. He made sure to lock the door securely, pulling down the internal protective gate before locking it. He took the stairs to his loft two at a time. He found her sitting on his couch in the living room surrounded by warm hues and uncertainty. The air felt stiff, unmoving as he walked deeper into the living room. He caught the last of her mumbling, what he assumed was a prayer before she stood and turned to him. In this light, he could admire the softness of her features. Her skin was the color of Africa, deep and ritual. She was on the thicker side, thighs crafted by the ancestors of Mississippi herself. She was on the taller side, but he still had at least half a foot on her. Her lips were full and inviting. His eyes got stuck on them for too long.

"I... I’m sorry. I didn't have anywhere else to go." Her voice quaked, remnants of fear making it shaky. "I'll leave."

Smoke took a pull from his blunt. "Ain't too sure the coast clear yet."

Annie's shoulders went slack in defeat. "As long as they going one way and I'm going the other."

Smoke eyed her. "How you to know which way is which?"

That question stumped Annie.

Smoke walked over to his bar, pulling out a stool. "They say you a witch."

Annie's nostrils flared. "You look smart enough to know better."

Smoke smirked. "Say they need to kill you."

"People fear what they can't control."

Smoke nodded, looking at her through the cloud of smoke that curled between them. "Now you done found yourself in the apartment of a mad man."

Annie shook her head, standing. "You ain't a mad man. You're my protector."

Smoke's spine stiffened as she walked over to him, "You got the wrong man, sweetheart."

Annie pulled a stool, sitting down beside him. "My grandmother guided me here. She'd never put me in harms way. She sent me here because she knew you would take care of me."

Smoke thought the woman was losing it. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"By keeping me here til morning and loving me for the rest of my life, which will end before yours. Not for a long while though, Elijah."

He was out of his stool in a flash, reaching behind him to produce his gun as if it were attached to his hand. This time, Annie didn’t panic.

“How the fuck you know my name?”

“Wow, you’re a quick draw.”

“The quickest.” He spoke around the smoke floating from his lips like vowels.

She slowly held her hands up. “If you put the gun down, I can explain.”

Smoke gripped the gun tighter, keeping it in her face. “Gun ain’t movin’ til you explain.”

Annie stayed seated on the stool. “You won’t shoot me, Elijah.”

Smoke cocked the gun. “You don’t know me well, ma’am.”

Annie’s eyes held his as a slow, syrupy smile covered her face. “I’m slowly learning.”

“Fuck that mean?”

With hesitation, Annie slowly stood from the stool. Her eyes moved from Smoke to the gun. “Can...do you have to have this in my face.”

“I ain’t moving it until you tell me how you know my name.”

“If I tell you, you’re going to think those men downstairs were right about me.”

“Already thinkin’ that.” Smoke wasn’t bothered by the fact that though. If she was a witch, she was the finest one he’d ever seen. He didn’t mind whatever curse she was here to put on him. Death never scared him none, he’d faced it so many times they were kin. Lovers even. Walking hand in hand down the dark, historically dangerous streets of Mississippi. Nah, death didn’t bother him none.

“I’m a Hoodoo Priestess.”

Smoke’s brows danced. “Ummm hmmm…”

“Not a witch.”

“What’s the difference?”

Annie felt bold, feeling the strength of her spiritual guides surrounding her, encouraging her. Even with a gun to her face, she felt protected. She felt comforted by the man before her, knowing that he would go to unknown lengths to protect her, despite this moment.

“I’m a conjurer, Elijah. I hold my ancestors close for guidance and love. I keep the future close so it’s tied to the roots it needs to flourish. I heal, I complete and I evolve. I’m your connection to peace and everything pure about love, Elijah.

A warmth flowed from his face to his feet. His eyes held her soft, welcoming ones. He was well versed in women, he knew when they were flirting, trying to scam him. His years of training involving the species failed him at this moment. He couldn’t read her. His brain felt like it short circuited each time he tried. Mindlessly, he lowered the gun, dislodging the clip and throwing the safety on before he placed it on the bar.

Slowly, she stretched both her hands out to him, palms up as she waited.  “I could show you what I see for us. Only a glimpse though.”

Smoke didn’t hesitate to place his hands inside her palms. He was immediately hit with a blanket of comfort, the weight in his shoulders evaporating as he exhaled. His eyes rolled closed as white noise filled his ears. He could feel her step closer to him, her softness engulfing him as she folded her thumbs over the top of his hands. For Smoke, the vision was blurry and warped, all he could make out was the sound of laughter coming from children as they ran across a field covered in autumn leaves with the scent of butterscotch floating through his nostrils. Then she came into view; a brown dress down to her ankles, soft peppered twist in her hair and the skin of a goddess glistening under the sun. Everything around her had aged, except the softness in her eyes. She was older, even more beautiful than the woman standing before him. He found himself wondering how that was possible.

“Let me know when you’re ready for dinner, Elijah. We can’t let it get cold.”

Smoke snatched his hands away from Annie, looking at her with wild, muddled eyes. He stepped back; his eyes filled with more questions than answers as he continued to look at her.

“What…”

“Us.” Annie answered with a soft smile. “Our children; a boy and a girl.”

He wanted to call her crazy and throw her out of his apartment and into the pit of clan he knew were still lingering around outside. Yet, all he could do was accept her words as if they were biblical.

“How?”

Annie hesitated. “I…don’t want to scare you.”

“Tell me.” Smoke demanded softly, wanting his brain to find comfort.

“Your guide, who I’m finding to be your mother and my guide, my grandmother has tied us to each other eternally. No matter how far you go, Elijah. We’ll be tied forever.”

Her words, which should have terrified him, gave him the comfort he was looking for.

He walked around the bar, looking back at her. “So, your my wife?”

Annie closed her eyes slowly. “Oh love, I am so much more than that.”

“The mother of my children.” He added through vulnerable cords.

“I am your protector, just as much as you are mine.”

Smoke pours a shot of Hennessy, needing it to clear his head. The moment he was away from her, his tiredness returned. “Look, it’s been a long day and I need to get some sleep. You’re more than welcome to stay, I’d actually like to talk to you more in the morning. I just…can’t be upright for much longer.”

“I’d like to sleep in your bed.” Annie spoke boldly.

Smoke’s eyes rounded as he slowly swallowed his liquor down, choking on the sting. “Huh?”

“We won’t have sex. I’m…we’re not there yet.”

“I don’t allow women to sleep in my bed, especially when we ain’t fucking.”

Annie’s eyes rolled. “I understand that but this is different.”

“Different, how?” Smoke walked back over to her. “You’re supposed to be my wife, seems like fucking comes with that.”

“Yeah…but not now. Not on the first night.”

Smoke could hear the nervousness in her voice; it bordered on fear. “Aye, I’m just fucking with you. I don’t want to have sex with you but I don’t understand why you gotta sleep in my bed.”

Annie bit into her bottom lip nervously before exhaling. “I can explain it once we’re in your bedroom.”

Once again, Smoke didn’t know how to receive the stranger who felt far too familiar, in his house. She was bold yet timid. She was demanding, yet soft-spoken and calm tempered. She felt like a new wind brushing over his skin after a long day. She was rejuvenating.

“Come on.” He extended his hand to her, pulling her down the hallway to his bedroom. He pushed the door open, bathing the hallway in soft light and the scent of sandalwood. His room matched his living room, soft brown, cream and off-white tones covered his bed, the décor and furniture. He released her hand after they stepped over the threshold.

“All I got that’s gone fit ya is a t-shirt.” He tossed over his shoulder as he walked to the dresser. “Maybe some shorts.”

“A t-shirt is fine.” Annie spoke softly, standing awkwardly by the door.

Smoke lifted, taking in her stiffened demeanor. “Why you standing in the doorway like that?”

Annie would never admit to being nervous, but she was. Even though her grandmother’s communication was clear, it was a lot for her to take in. She didn’t even think about what her future would look like. She was so busy fighting to survive each day. At twenty – six, she was still figuring out her life. Suddenly, she had the full map of how her future would go, just from one run in with a grumpy stranger.

“I didn’t know if you want me to walk any further in these dirty clothes.”

Smoke eyed her. “You got anything under the dress?”

“Of course.” Annie snapped instantly, feeling insulted.

“You gotta ask these days.” Smoke muttered. “Well, take the dress off and I’ll throw it in the washer for you.”

Annie toed off her shoes before lifting her dress up and over her head. She smooths the silk fabric of her slip down, pulling it down just right past her knees.

Smoke pulled towels and a shirt from his drawer before turning to her. His eyes took in the pearl-colored slip covering her mocha skin. All the fear and uncertainty gone from her features leaving just her blank expression which was arguably the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

He lifted the clothes and towels to her. “The shower is here.” He pointed.

Annie’s feet remained planted as he showed her the way to the bathroom. “Wait.”

Her voice was low, insecure as she spoke.

Smoke turned to her. “What?”

Annie swallowed the lump in her throat. “Ummm. I want you to understand why I said we couldn’t have sex.”

“I thought I told you I wasn’t trying to have sex with you.”

She nodded. “Yes, and I know that you were honest when you said that.”

Smoke remained silent.

“It’s just that I never…”

Still, Smoke just stood there looking at her.

“I grew up in a very strict household, so I never even had a boyfriend.”

“It’s the south, that’s not uncommon.”

Annie’s eyes lit up. “So, you understand?”

Smoke didn't understand why this conversation felt like it was looping. “Yeah, you ain’t never had a boyfriend.”

“Right so, you see why I can’t just have sex with you on the first night.”

“I just…I would like the first time to be special.” Annie was losing all the confidence she gained when she revealed herself to him. “I can’t just…do it the first day I meet you.”

“Wait…” Smoke’s eyes narrowed. “I know you ain’t tryna tell me what I think you tryna tell me.”

“What?” Annie snapped. “That I want my first time to be special?”

Smoke ran his hands down his face. “You’re a fucking virgin?”

[tinytennisskirt]

Let It Linger

Summary: When post-canon divorced! Art goes back to high school for a fifteen year reunion, he’s met with strong memories of the his estranged best friend, the girl he loved those fifteen years ago. He gets caught in a rally between his past and present. A whirlwind of past yearning, casual touches, meaningful conversations and pining rushes back to him like the time never passed when he sees her again for the first time in fifteen years. Turns out not so much has changed.

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, marijuana. casual touching, pining, yearning, MEGA SLOWBURN, a longer fic with time skipping between MRTA! art and POST CANON! art. AU.

Art wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He was parked outside, in some dress shirt he’d owned far too long and the black dress pants he wore for when he did pre-game press. His hands on the wheel, lips pressed into a straight line. This would be interesting, he knew it would be. He was sitting in the parking lot outside the smaller gym of Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy and he could hear the music through the walls of the car and through the open gym door, he could see a purple cast of light from inside.

It had only been fifteen years. That wasn’t much time in perspective, but fifteen years felt like a lot when he remembered who he was that many years ago.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- past

“My mouth, my mouth!” You called, opening your mouth and slowing your running to walking backward. Patrick tossed a marshmallow and you caught it in your mouth as the three of you ran down the hill, Patrick with a bag of marshmallows, you with the chocolate, and Art with the graham crackers.

Both boys cheered loudly and you jumped, triumphantly raising your hands above your head. Art nearly ran right into you with the momentum from the hill and you all ended up laughing way too hard at it, even with the marshmallow in your mouth. Art tried to catch his breath, his hand sliding over your waist as he passed you, trying not to stumble the rest of the way down the hill. Patrick just laughed. “I had no idea my aim was that good,” he said, teasing.

You swallowed the marshmallow, “You’re kidding? Your aim? That was all me.”

Art grinned, “I think it was a joined effort…” He played mediator. You hit him in the upper arm gently. “No, all you. All her, Patrick. Sorry.”

Patrick threw his arms up in forfeit. There was no winning against you. They both knew that. You giggled and shoved a marshmallow right in Patrick’s mouth before skipping down the rest of the hill, leaving both boys behind you. Art watched, a huge grin on his face. The three of you had found a great way to sneak out of your dorms at night. It was 11:42 and you were heading toward the back of the grounds with the ingredients for s’mores, a lighter, and matches for good measure. And maybe the remainder of a pack of cigarettes.

What good was your last year at the academy if not the one you rebel just a tiny bit? You were down the hill humming Groove Is In The Heart by Deee-Lite in your big Mark Rebellato sweater and yoga pants just happy to be out at night. You were fun, carefree, and bright, even in the dark of the edge of the property, away from all the fuss of the school. “You’re so slow!” You called out to them. Both Art and Patrick jogged to catch up to you, finding your regular spot between a few trees.

You sat on your regular log and pulled the blanket from your bag before getting up to drape it over. Patrick got to collecting the twigs from the stash and put them in the hole you three dug the first time you snuck out. Art took the seat next to you on the log, “Crazy, you have like seven tennis balls in here.” He laughed. You shook your head, nudging him just a little while he grabbed the three marshmallow skewers from your bag. He grabbed one of the balls out and threw it at Patrick.

“Can take the girl out of Mark Rebellato but can’t take the Mark Rebellato out of the girl,” Patrick said, catching the ball and throwing it back at Art. He got the fire started and lit one of the remaining cigarettes off of the growing flame. “You guys ready for that test on Monday?”

“Since when are you an academic?” You chuckled, putting a marshmallow on the end of Art’s stick.

“Since he found out Lydia Jennings is into smart guys,” Art said. You chuckled, biting your lip just gently. Art noticed.

Patrick blew smoke out the side of his mouth, “No- okay, she said she liked smart guys we all know there’s no way in hell I’m becoming a straight-A student like this one over here,” he gestured with the cigarette between his fingers to you. “She’s hot, she’s not drop-everything-and-study hot. I’m talking about the test on Monday because I know that with you two and Stanford, you’re obsessed with your grades… I am… not ready.”

You shook your head, looking up at him, “She is so drop-everything-and-study hot, you’re just picky. And I’ll lend you my notes tomorrow if you want- Art and I worked on them together, they’re pretty extensive.”

“They are good.” Art nodded, dangling his marshmallow over the embers. “You’re actually worried about it? I mean, the year is almost half-done, you’ve got time.”

He nodded, “I know, but I have to graduate to be free of this place for good. No way I’m doing that GED thing.”

“My mom did the GED thing.” You said. “She’s doing just fine. It was only a setback. Plus, if you plan on truly going pro, it won’t be a big thing. Just player trivia.” Art laughed at that, pulling his stick back to pull the marshmallow off. You had already prepped his graham cracker and chocolate and pulled the marshmallow off between them for him. Patrick watched how you two worked so wordlessly- wasn’t his focus. “I will lend you all of my notes tomorrow, it’s just a matter of reading them a few times a day and you’re set.”

Patrick shrugged, grabbing himself the things he needed for a s’more. “Thanks.”

Art nodded, “You’re lucky you’re good with a racket.”

“Rude!” You said, shoving him backward off the log. He landed on his back in the leaves and it was all-around laughter again. The dynamic was this. Shoving, pushing, insults in good fun, but caring all too much. Art knew there was nobody in the world who cared more about anything than you did. He was, as your friend, able to enjoy just how passionate you were about the things and people you liked. He pulled himself back onto the log, shaking his head at you as you dusted him off and removed the leaves from his hair. You smelled good, like fall, vanilla, and chai, almost, but with a sweetness that reminded Art of the caramel apples from the fair. He shut his eyes as your hands picked the last little bits from his hair. You pat his cheek when it was done and the conversation moved onto the new tennis coach’s really bad toupée.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

Art got out of his car, shut the door, and locked it, car keys sliding into his pocket. He stared out over the grounds, past the outdoor tennis courts, and to the point in the field where it dipped down into the big hill. He wondered if they’d ever found your makeshift fire pit, filling it with dirt, moving the logs… He glanced at himself in the side mirror of the car, remembering when his hair was longer, more golden. Part of him wondered if he would even see you tonight. Maybe he’d see Patrick, which was a more likely occurrence, Patrick wouldn’t miss something like this.

If only they made it less of a surprise who you’d run into at one of these. He guessed it would be his class, a few extras, people who had settled down bringing their fiancees, partners, husbands, and wives. He wondered if he was too dressed up? Dressed down? And he was nervous, for some reason, when he shouldn’t have been.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- past

“I know I shouldn’t be deciding on a dress this late but I can’t tell if this dress is too much?” You said from inside your dorm room. “I’m afraid Mark Rebellato himself will come to smite me for how much boob this dress shows off.” You spoke through the door.

Art and Patrick grinned at each other. “I’m sure it’s fine!” Art called back. Both boys had spent about twenty minutes tops getting ready for the mid-term formal. One of many formals the school so unfortunately had. “Can we see?”

“It’s not the right dress!”

“How would we know?”

The door to your room unlocked and you opened it, standing looking very unimpressed in a gorgeous purple dress. Both boys stood, a little dumbfounded for a second. “Too much?”

“No.” Both boys said in unison, gazing at you, your hair perfect, your makeup perfect.

Art blinked hard to snap himself back to reality, “You look… beautiful.” His eyes lingered a little too long on the slight shimmer to your eyelids and the gloss on your lips. Your eyes softened and you looked down at yourself again.

Patrick agreed. “Damn.” Both boys had themselves forgetting you were the same girl they called their friend on a day-to-day basis. “Mark Rebellato is rolling in his grave.”

“Is he dead?” You asked, laughing. Art didn’t find anything funny when you were standing there looking like that. He thought you were gorgeous, he could say that as your friend of a good few years, but this was breathtaking. You were.

The dance was more fun than both Art and Patrick anticipated, but you made anything fun. Patrick nudged Art’s arm as they stood off to the side with cups of punch. “She’s different this year.” He said. Both boys were watching you dance with one of your girlfriends. You were so free and you were once again the brightest thing in the whole room, purple and pink light cascading over your face and you were laughing.

Art hardly heard him. “Hm?” His eyes didn’t leave you.

“Exactly.”

Art nudged him back, seeing what Patrick was getting at. “Fuck off.” He grinned. “She’s just pretty. She’s always been pretty.”

Patrick nodded, sipping his punch, watching your dress swish around you as your friend spins you. “Too pretty.”

“Mhm,” Art sighs. The way he watches you is different from Patrick's. There’s something buried in what he feels, but he’s never acknowledged it much. Aside from when you met at twelve in a co-op game and you made fun of his ears. It honestly hurt his little feelings but Patrick found it absolutely hilarious that someone so funny-looking could say something so mean to someone else. Art laughed when Patrick defended him. But you, always so smart, nodded. And you smiled, which both boys didn’t expect. Then you apologized to Art and introduced yourself like nothing even happened. Art forgave you. There was something about you that both he and Patrick knew would make a good addition to the duo they’d formed over the first week. And it had been that way ever since. Didn’t make it easier when you stopped looking so funny and disproportionate when you turned fourteen but, being friends, it was ignorable. For the most part. They were only boys.

When presented with a slow dance, you excused yourself from the floor and came to stand with the boys, taking Patrick’s cup of punch right out of his hands and downing it. Patrick went to grab it but it was too late. You pulled a face, “Seriously?” You scrunched up your nose and Art laughed as he pieced it together.

“Didn’t give me a chance to warn you,” he chuckled. You felt the warmth spread down your throat- he’d spiked his own punch. Of course. Art, mouth agape, placed a hand on the small of your back without thinking. You just giggled and shook your head at him. Patrick took his cup back from you, sipping the very last drops. The couples and wannabes behind you continued to dance closely. “Awful, right?”

“So bad,” you giggled. Art twisted his mouth to the side, trying not to laugh too much. Your hand closed around Art’s wrist and pulled it up over your opposite shoulder and you kept talking about how gross it tasted, making fun of Patrick for spiking it so badly. If anyone sniffed it, they would have immediately known it was mostly alcohol. Art’s arm stayed around you, the perfect place for it, so it made sense to step a little closer. It’s only worth noting as something that happened because Patrick, who was used to your casual displays of closeness like this one- saw the angle Art kept his hand at so that his hand wouldn’t rest too close to your boobs. He laughed just a bit. Art just shook his head at Patrick and flipped him off with that very hand.

By the near-end of the night, you’re danced out and you asked the boys to come back with you, but Patrick had taken to chatting up Lydia Jennings, of course, so Art obliges. Patrick didn’t need a wingman, he would do fine on his own. Art holds the door for you as you leave and you’re immediately laughing as you cross the parking lot. “Fucking insane,” Art laughs, running a hand through his hair. “I always forget it’s not a school dance until Patrick sneaks in two shooters.”

“I had at least one whole shooter in that punch,” you said, knocking against him as you walked. The cool autumn air hit your bare skin and it was harsh. “It was disgusting.” Art felt you shiver just a bit beside him and he was already taking off his jacket to give to you. “He could have gone with vodka or something, spiced rum, and fruit punch is one of the worst things I think I’ve ever tasted- thank you.” You said, taking his jacket with a smile and pulling it over your shoulders.

“It was spiced rum?!”

“Yeah!” You laughed with him, still leaning against him as the two of you walked. “He ends up with Lydia Jennings she’s going to hate, hate, hate his breath. I brushed my teeth in the bathroom,” you said, pulling a pink toothbrush out of your bag. Art couldn’t help but laugh at the thing.

“Smart,” he grinned wider as you showed him the travel-sized tube of toothpaste that went with it. Art just flashed you his pack of mint gum in return and you narrowed your eyes at him. Art shoved it back in his pocket along with both of his hands. “So… you had fun tonight?” He followed up.

You smiled at him with those perfectly glossed lips parting to show teeth. “I did. However-

“There’s a however?”

“However…” You grinned, taking his hand and walking backward. You lowered your voice, pretending to be extra serious. “You need to dance more so you can dance with me.”

“You didn’t like the nodding I did? I feel like that was a lot, too much, even.” He held the door open to the other building and you mouthed another thank you as you passed him again. ”How much more do I need to do to dance with you?”

“You can always dance with me. I promise it’s a lot more fun when you’re not feeling centered out.” You told him, heading up the stairwell. It’s still early in the night so the girl’s dorms were mostly empty. “I knowww, I know how you get with it, but-”

“I’d dance with you.” He nodded, but squeezed your upper arm, “You didn’t ask me. I would have.”

“Okay then. Swear on your life right now that if I asked you, you’d say yes.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fighting that neverending grin that lived on his face when you were around. “For what?”

“All future purposes.” You replied, stopping outside your room and leaning against the wooden door. “Where dancing is involved.” You held out your pinkie finger and Art took it before he got to question any more. You grinned and jumped a few times. “You just made the craziest promise, I’m going to make you hate me with that one.” Art just grinned.

You talked a bit more just at the door until both you and Art were wary about someone seeing him on the girl’s side of the dorms. You opened the door to your room and stepped just inside, about to say goodbye, but just one more thing before he left, you asked. For him to help you unzip your dress. Art should not have felt the way he did when you handed him back his jacket and turned around while lifting your hair. Your bunkmate had zipped it up before you had left and you had no idea when she’d be back, you explained.

Art wouldn’t say no to you. Who could? He stepped closer, met with the closer, stronger scent of your perfume and you still smelled sweet. You always smelled sweet. With gentle fingers, he took the small zipper and slowly unzipped the back of your dress. The sound of the zipper being the only thing in the empty of your room and he wouldn’t forget how when the zipper hit the bottom of its track, his finger grazed the bare skin of your back. Soft, softer than he could have even imagined. And you turned so that he wouldn’t be faced with the bare of it all, braless underneath, he could tell, and you thanked him for the night, for his jacket, for his help. Said you’d see him tomorrow. Usually, you’d hug him goodnight, but with your dress about to slip off you just smiled, making fun of the promise he’d made to you just thirty minutes ago before a real goodnight.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

Art looked over at the dorm building across the lot, looking at the exact path between cars you and him would have walked that night. His hands shoved themselves into his pockets, habit. He decided not to stand out in the parking lot anymore, swallowing hard as he allowed himself through the door and into the smaller gym, which was decorated just like the regular school dances. There were streamers and early 2000s radio hits and so many people.

It was almost immediately people recognized Art. He was possibly the most successful of the graduating class, though he hated to think it. He wouldn’t put himself above anyone. He was already getting pats on the back and he started in some small conversations but he was a little distracted.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- past

“They have parties at Stanford?” You said, looking at some Stanford webpage on Art’s mom’s computer. “Frats, too. Insane. Hey Art, you should join the frat.” You chuckled. Art and Patrick were playing Jenga at the coffee table, two or three of the blocks wet from falling into the eggnog.

Patrick ruffled Art’s hair, “Frat boy Art Donaldson?”

You spun in the chair, “I could join a sorority, they have those too.”

Art grinned, “Yeah? You think they’d take Patrick?”

Patrick pushed Art into the couch and the Jenga tower toppled over once again. You laughed, watching him shake his head and reach for his eggnog, once again pulling a Jenga block out of it. You came and sat next to Art on the couch, sitting on the arm. His hand mindlessly wrapping itself around your ankle as your foot rested on his thigh. Gentle, like letting you know that he’s there despite the readily available knowledge that was your being. Something sweet. Patrick took a seat on the floor in front of you both. “I think they’d take me, but you have to be a Stanford student, so you know, it’s too bad.”

“Their loss,” You smiled. “Do you think I’m pretty enough to rush a sorority when we get to Stanford?” You asked. Both boys looked at each other.

“...Yeah,” Patrick said, nodding just a little. You narrowed your eyes.

“Yes.” Art said firmly. He squeezed your ankle just a little. You smiled at that. Art’s mom called you to dinner, christmas dinner, and in seconds both boys were bolting to the dining room. You exchanged a look with Art’s mom when you got there. She was lovely and she was letting both you and Patrick stay for the holidays. Her food was amazing and the conversation was Stanford, mostly, and your tennis plans for after graduation. The application process, the fuss of getting a dorm room there, and how excited she was for you and Art to be going to the same place. She loved you, his mom. She called you her daughter when the mailman came around during the holiday season and to whoever asked. She’d been in a household of boys for far too long.

The post-dinner conversation laying on your back on Art’s bed next to him while Patrick was laid at the foot of the bed was on exactly that. “Art, I think your mom likes Y/N more than you.”

“I know,” Art replied, hands folded on his chest. He turned his head to look at you, giggling.

“I can’t help it,” you replied through your laughter. “Everyone loves me, it’s not my fault.” Nothing about that statement was false- everyone did love you. And who wouldn’t? You were kind and sweet and loving and so warm to everyone you met so of course they all loved you. There was nobody like you so everyone who crossed paths with you would never be able to forget you. Art’s smile fell, looking at your freshly glossed lips and that unforgettably beautiful smile. He’d zoned out so when you rolled onto your side, nearly onto him, his eyes widened just a bit.

“You’re jealous?” You beamed.

“Not even,” Art scrunched his nose, using a gentle hand to push you away but you returned, giggling. “She’d go insane having a real excuse to go to sales at the mall.”

“Sugar mommy,” Patrick remarked. He had way too much pie, he was half-asleep. Art just kicked him with the foot that rested closest to his chest, eliciting an ‘oof’ noise from Patrick that you giggled at.

“You’re so jealous your mom likes me more, it’s crazy, it’s crazy,” You giggled, grabbing his upper arm. Art twisted his mouth to the side, eyes flickering from the gloss on your lips, to your eyes. “Don’t worry, when she comes to visit me at Stanford, she’ll probably have enough time to see you as well. I’ll make sure of it.” You teased.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Art said, pushing you back again and you just laughed madly, a laugh that was so room-filling and contagious and completely perfect. Art turned his head to look at you. You were more than sorority pretty. Who wouldn’t think so when you laughed like that?

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

Art found that Lydia Jennings had three kids now. Three in fifteen years, which was a little crazy. She, of course, had pictures with her. Spitting images of her bright blonde, big-mouthed self and Art pretended to care, more than he cared to admit. There was no sign of Patrick. Lydia Jennings asked Art about his divorce, asking about his own daughter, but he had to real interest in talking about that sort of thing. Not with her. He excused himself, raising his head above the crowd to scan for anyone else he knew.

He ended up talking to an old friend who was already balding with his pregnant wife at his side. It was good to see just how well people were doing. Settling down, having quit tennis or only pursuing it on the weekends, some of them with kids in tennis classes already. Art was continuing to be congratulated on his career by even the partners of these past classmates.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- past

You were dancing to some Tal Bachman song and Art was internalizing every lyric. “What song is this again?” He asked, leaning back against the tree. The light from the fire was flickering around your face that was nearly hidden by the winter jacket you had on.

“She’s So High,” you replied, spinning in circles. Patrick locked eyes with Art from across the fire, giving a knowing smile. One, because you were high, so was he, so was Art- Two, because Art was completely zoned in on you, the way you moved, the way you looked. And he couldn’t help it, you were the most fascinating thing around and he’d smoked quite a bit. It was like the song was written for you, he thought, out of his mind and red-eyed. You were dancing alone, like you hadn’t even though twice, the music coming from your little portable music player thing. Art met Patrick’s eyes and Patrick raised his eyebrows, nodding at you. Art shook his head, but Patrick jumped over the fire to sit next to him anyway.

“So are you telling her or am I?” He teased, ruffling Art’s hair and Art bat him away, huge grin on his face. “So when’s the wedding?”

“Shut the fuck up, she’ll hear you,” Art chuckled, shoving Patrick over just a bit. Patrick came back laughing. “It’s not like that.”

“You really think I’m fucking stupid, huh?” Patrick chuckled, pulling Art into a bit of a headlock in return. “I’ve known you both how long?”

“Too long,” Art laughed, trying to wriggle out of Patrick’s grasp, finally escaping just to shove Patrick all the way over. He was glad you were minding your business, occupied with the song. “It’s not like that.” He repeated, still keeping his voice low.

Patrick pulled himself back up, “Tell that to your dick,” he said, taking a shot at Art’s groin that he gladly blocked just to sock Patrick in his. Patrick doubled over just for a second and Art laughed a bit too hard, the fry of the weed that burned his throat making him cough. Patrick couldn’t stop laughing at the coughing and being high, everything was a lot funnier. It took a minute for them to stop laughing over the stupidity. Patrick sighed heavily, looking over at you still dancing mindlessly to a song by Avril Lavigne, then back at Art, who was trying to regulate his breathing, also staring at you again. “Maybe not always your dick but definitely your eyes. I’ve never seen anyone with bigger heart-eyes, it’s sickening.” He said.

Art looked at Patrick and twisted his mouth to the side. “I don’t think so. She’s just…pretty.” His eyes gazing back to you, spinning in your fluffy winter coat, swaying, firelight flickering over your face, defining your features in shadow.

“Uh-huh… You really think I don’t know?”

“There’s nothing to know,” Art replied, pulling his eyes off of you again.

Patrick shook his head, adding more to the fire, hand still over his groin as the pain continued to die down. He kept his voice low, “Fuck off with that. It’s bullshit. I know it, you know it. You spend more time with her than me, she’s your partner for every co-op game, your mom loves her, you look at her like I’ve never seen you look at anyone.” He chuckled, “And you so want to fuck her.”

“Not as much as I want you to fuck off,” Art chuckled. “Okay, well, I mean- I might. She’s gorgeous, yeah, but I don’t think I could ever tell her anything. She’s perfect, too perfect and we’re friends. We’re her best friends, it would fuck everything up.”

“So you don’t even try? I’ve seen you ask for girl’s numbers within forty minutes of knowing them, it’s unlike you to not even try.”

“She’s different,” Art replied, looking down at his hands. “I couldn’t. I make a move and she doesn’t want it, we’re fucked forever.”

“And you don’t make a move and you’ll never know,” Patrick replied. The weed made him oddly thoughtful. “I’ve seen you two with my own eyes there’s something there, I swear to god there is. You can’t just let things play out, you’re going to miss your chance. Think about Stanford next year, all the college guys hitting on her and you know they will, she’s Y/N… Fifteen years down the road she’s married to some frat guy she met at a rager and you’ll be wishing you told her while you could.”

The silence between them was filled by your music and humming. Art looked at you, eyes closed, lips glossy, boots in the dirt. And for the first time he let himself think that he could never want anyone more than he wanted you. He would never see past you, he wouldn’t ever feel this way about anyone else and in the moment, through the weed, it felt real. You, perfect, gorgeous, here.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

Art glanced around the room, feeling some familiar fire burning in the pit of his stomach. It felt oddly highschool, it felt oddly familiar. He wondered if you had kept up with tennis, he wondered if you had a husband and kids, he wondered if you’d gained weight, lost weight, changed your hair, were going just a little grey, even. He was nervous- that’s what he was and he could place that. It was then that he saw Patrick, coming in through the door across the room.

Art, over Tashi, had put her in the past, including what Patrick had done. Him and Patrick didn’t keep up much other than a few texts and meeting at the bar a few times, but the hard feelings were pretty much gone. Art started making his way over to his old friend just to be grabbed by another ex-classmate who wanted to catch up. He was faced with more pictures of kids and meeting someone’s wife and Art wasn’t so bothered to talk about his own daughter, he’d always take that opportunity. She was the best thing he currently had.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- past

You and Art sat on the bleachers in the gym, just having finished a co-op game, having won, of course. You both showered and got dressed again and met back up. The air was warming up, mid-spring and Art had still not told you yet. He decided he would at the end of the year and see if you’d make the first move, just to be safe. It didn’t weigh on him- he’d been friends with you for ages, liked you for ages, so it was a secondary thing.

“Hoping my tennis career is enough to buy an old victorian home,” You said, packing your things into your gym bag.

“I remember you saying that,” Art said, hauling your bag onto his shoulder along with his own. It wasn’t abnormal to have him carry your bag. It was sweet. “You want a blue one. Well, blue-grey.” He said. You looked at him, a little surprised he remembered the blue-grey thing. “With the white trim. I remember things.”

You nudged him just a little bit as you passed him. “I’m surprised, after so many tennis balls have hit you in the head.”

“And whose bad aim is at fault?” He teased back. You held the door for him and went out into the early afternoon sun.

You rolled your eyes at him with that gorgeous smile. “Bad aim, uh huh. Who’s to say it’s not on purpose?”

“Y/N!” Your girl friend called, bounding over. “My hair tie broke and I can’t go all the way back to the dorms in time for scrimmage, do you have an extra?” Art watched your full attention go to this girl, linking hands with her and everything. He watched you take the hair tie off of your wrist, the purple glittery one that you swore was your favourite. “Hi, Art.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, noticing him standing there. Art just raised his hand in a subtle wave.

“Of course,” you said, pulling the purple sparkly hair tie off and giving it to her, no questions asked. “Do you need anything else? I have a redbull in my bag if you wanted that before your scrimmage?”

“Really?” She asked. Art lowered your bag for you and you unzipped it, pulling the redbull out and handing it to her as she finished tying her hair up. All Art could wonder was how could anyone not love you when this was who you were? Art knew that purple hair tie was your favourite and you gave it up, just like that, and didn’t even ask for it back later. And your redbull that Art watched you go through your coins for six miinutes counting literal dimes and pennies to get it from the vending machine was in this girl’s hand just because you thought to offer it. You were kind and beautiful and Art moved the date up a little in his head- the date that he’d tell you how he felt. For now, he dug his free hand into his pocket and pretended like you weren’t absolutely perfect.

Saying goodbye to the girl, you and Art resumed your walk back to the main building. “You know Abbey, right?”

“Her?”

“Yes, her,” you giggled. “Don’t tell her I told you this, but she keeps asking me about you. Your favourite colour, song, movie, all of it.” You explained, gesturing with your hands and leaning against him as you two walked. “She likes you.”

Art was only half-surprised. But was more surprised at you bringing it up. “Likes me how?”

“Exactly in the way you think,” you replied. “I’m always down to play wingwoman, but I did tell her all the wrong information.” Your smile turned into a bit of a cringe. Art liked that even in your full care and support, you were just a little evil. Plus, what harm was it really? Art was only seeing you. He couldn’t spend a second on anyone else. Seemed impossible. “She thinks you’re a huge fan of Green Day.” Art couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah?” Art set down your things at a table in the cafeteria and the two of you got in line for food. “Playing interference?”

“Uh-huh,” you said, bowing so your head nudged his arm. The smile that pulled at your lips was one you appeared to want to suppress. A strand of your hair, wet, fell in your face and Art wasted no time moving it behind your ear. Your eyes met his as your smile broke into full action and your eyes fell back to the ground. Sometimes… just sometimes, he felt maybe you were worth ruining the friendship.

Your lower lip between your teeth, you grabbed a tray for him before you grabbed your own.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

Art finally made it over to Patrick, who looked decent. He shaved a bit, cleaned up just enough. Art thought about how strange it was to be back here with him after all this time. It almost felt right, was just missing you. “Hey, man.” Patrick said, reaching forward and locking hands with Art in a quick greeting.

“Hey,” Art replied. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Patrick replied. “See anyone worth talking to?”

“Not really. Lydia Jennings has three kids now, in case you were looking forward to that,” he chuckled. “She doesn’t look bad though. I didn’t check for a ring either, so.”

Patrick chuckled, hands in the pockets of his dress pants, wearing virtually what was the grey version of Art’s outfit. “Not for me.” He said. “I actually- I ran into Y/N in the parking lot. I thought maybe you’d be looking for her tonight.” Patrick added. Art hated the way his stomach did a little flip as if he wasn’t a full-grown man with a failed marriage and a daughter.

“She came?”

“Yeah, she headed in here before me. She’s good, she hasn’t aged much, it’s weird. You know what they say about the way good people age…” He added. “She’s in purple, said we’d talk more later but she was excited to be here.”

Art swallowed hard, “I’ll keep an eye out. Thanks, man.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- past

When Patrick left early to hang out with Lydia Jennings, swearing he was going to ‘get some’, it left you and Art in the boy’s room. How they’d been bunkmates for six years running you had no idea, having been room with at least four different girls. Their room was decorated with sports posters, tennis awards and medals, and Star Wars memorabilia. You weren’t supposed to be there, but oh well. “You think purple is my colour?” You asked Art, going through the nail polish you had in your bag, buried under the bag of cheetos you brought over.

“Hm?” Art slid off his bed and onto the floor where you sat, your back to the edge of his mattress. “Yeah. The medium one, though. Not the dark one.” He said, pointing to the bottle he liked better. You shot a small smile his way before grabbing that one.

“I haven’t painted them in ages,” you said, doing a bit of a jazz hand really close to his face and then pressing your hand to his cheek. Annoying, or trying to be, but casual. Art scrunched his nose and batted your hand away, though he really didn’t want to. “So about Abbey.”

“Your friend?” Art adjusted the way he sat. His knee overlapped yours.

“Mhm,” you replied,beginning to paint your nails. “Did she end up talking to you after class yesterday?”

Art thought back to after class when he was on his way to his next class to meet up with you and Patrick. She had come up to him, but he almost immediately shut her down. “Was she supposed to?”

You smiled, “Yes. I told her to ask you about your favourite Star Trek episode.”

Art grinned, you were still playing interference. He wondered why. “I brushed her off… I didn’t think anything of it I was on my way out.” He grimaced a little and you looked up from your nails, trying not to laugh. “I don’t think I was too rude…”

“Where were you off to in such a hurry?”

“You- And Patrick.” He saved himself. “I had someplace to be! Plus, she’s not really my type.”

“And what is that type? Girls with purple fingernails, maybe?” You laughed- Art wondered what you meant by that because at this very moment there was nothing you said that had ever been more true. “Your future girlfriend is going to hate me.” You followed up. Art’s heart sunk just a little at that. You then mumbled something under your breath that Art didn’t catch.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

Art caught up a bit with Patrick, who was interested to hear that his daughter was just getting into tennis, but really liked ballet. Patrick himself had still not settled down, but he’d landed a good job adn was now making decent money, enough to find himself a good apartment. He talked about this girl he’d met at the mechanic and Art didn’t mind the tale of it all, but he did glance around every few minutes to see if maybe you’d be nearby or even come to speak to them. They way you’d left things he wondered if you’d say anything to him at all.

It’s not like you left things horribly… But he knew the way things went just weren’t ideal and that was the problem. It was the lack of grace in the process of losing touch.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- past

“Patrick held both envelopes up. “Saw these on the mail piles, grabbed them before mail day.” He said. You, who had been mindlessly playing with Art’s curls on the couch in the corner of the library, and Art, who was pink from just how intimate the feeling had been, both perked up. Patrick shot a look additional to the excited expression he wore and Art just flipped him off. “They’re yours.”

You and Art looked at each other, Art tilting his head back to do so. Both of you scrambled from where you sat to grab the envelopes Patrick held, huge grin on his face. “Stanford Tennis,” you breathed. Art pressed his lips together. “Acceptance letter?” You questioned. Patrick shrugged, but continued to grin.

Art shook his head, “Should we open them? I mean- same time? Or?”

“I feel sick,” you said, words overlapping his. “Oh my god.” You pressed your hand to your stomach. “I knew they’d be here soon but this is so… late. I was getting scared I wouldn’t get anything, we got something… We got something.”

“Yeah,” Art nodded, big crooked grin on his face. “Together?”

You swallowed, sitting back down, then standing right back up again. “No, you first.”

Patrick sat on the couch, ready to watch both of his friends excitement, arm up on the arm of the couch. “Hurry up!” He kicked Art in the back of the knee and Art didn’t even feel it, opening the big envelope. He narrowly avoided a paper cut. You paced a short distance, back and forth, back and forth anxiously. He unwrapped the papers, eyes scanning over the letter.

“Fuck yeah!” He exclaimed, all too loud for the library. He didn’t care though. “I’m in!”

You gasped and your grin was the first thing Art looked for. Your arms up and around his neck, so excited for him. “That’s amazing, I’m so so proud of you!” You exclaimed, also so loud. Art’s arms around your waist, squeezing you tight as you kissed his cheek enthusiastically. Patrick was there to clap him on the back, hugging Art when you let go. Art was glad for it- it helped hide how pink he went from just the kiss on the cheek. You were jumping up and down and you were beautiful and you were happy. It would be one of the last times Art saw you so happy.

“What about you?” He gestured to your envelope and you looked down at it like you’d forgotten you were holding it.

“I- I can’t, one of you has to do it,” you said. It was for sure. You’d met with the faculty there, the coaches, you were scouted two years ago when you weren’t even old enough to apply and the second you knew you loved tennis you knew Stanford was the best place for you. Patrick took your envelope for you, opening it as you nervously bit your lip, swaying into Art, letting your fingers intertwine with his just to have something to brace yourself. He squeezed your hand, smiling at his own acceptance, knowing that if anyone had it in the bag was you. But Patrick read it over and there wasn’t a grin- in fact the smile he did have fell just in the slightest. Art felt your hand squeeze his harder.

“What is it?” You asked. Art looked at Patrick, who then looked up at you with sorry eyes. “Patrick?”

“You’re- um-” he paused another moment and handed you the papers. “Waitlisted. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Art watched your colour drain. The obvious bright light you brought by just entering a room dimmed as you read it yourself. Art could feel the slight tremor in your fingers, so he squeezed your hand as hard as he could, just so in the new wave of overwhelming sadness, you’d know he was still there. He felt guilty for celebrating so soon.

“I’m waitlisted.” You repeated, monotone. “And not even until next semester. Next year. And even then there’s no guarantee.”

Art didn’t wait another second, he used the hand he held to pull you in. You didn’t resist, you couldn’t, you felt limp as Art wrapped his arms around you. Patrick’s hand on your back for just a moment, but Art’s hand on the back of your head and the other running up and down your back. His crush on you was unaffected by this hug because he knew that you needed it more than anything. You were the one with the plans, you were the one who knew exactly how things would play out and Stanford was the first step on every path you’d imagined. Knowing you so long, both boys knew you were right to cry.

Art held you, standing, for as long as you needed- his arms around you stayed tight and didn’t waiver once in the thirty minutes you stayed there. He was quiet, Patrick was just cursing Stanford for being fucking stupid and though Art agreed with him on that, because who in their right minds would look at your grades and your tennis stats and say they didn’t want you? Who wouldn’t want you?

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

When Art saw you from across the room it felt like he was eighteen again. He’d anticipated feeling nostalgic for a time, but you were there and you were in purple, like Patrick said and he knew it was you from the smile you wore, reuniting with what looked to be a very-pregnant Abbey Campbell. Good for her, Art though, seeing past the bump and looking at you. Patrick was right- you’d aged like fine wine or whatever that saying was, but you were still youthful and you were still… bright.

“You should talk to her,” Patrick said, noticing where Art’s eyes had landed. As if he hadn’t been watching Art scan every five minutes during their conversation. “You haven’t seen her since…”

“September 2006,” Art replied, looking at Patrick.

“Have you kept in touch at all, or?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well fuck.”

“Yeah,” Art nodded, eyes not leaving you. You were different, older, for sure but not in ways noticeable. Many of the men in the room had grown into bigger bodies and were either unfortunately balding or had already gone bald for some. Mid-thirties you wouldn’t think it, but it was there. And you were there, looking youthful and bright and you were still one of the prettiest girls in the room. Women… in the room. He gestured to you, eyes not leaving you, scared to lose track of where you were. “I’m going to-”

“Good luck.” Patrick pat Art on the back to send him off and Art, drink in hand from his stop by the food table, walked over to you, ignoring everyone who wanted his attention this time.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- past

“You’re not telling her at graduation? You’re fucking joking.” Patrick said, shoving Art back onto his bed as the boys got dressed for one of their last classes at MRTA. “How fucking stupid are you, you can’t just not tell her.”

“I tell her and I ruin our friendship while I get to go to Stanford in the fall. I can’t do that to her.”

“You sound like a fucking idiot,” Patrick said.

“Okay, yeah, maybe, but even if I tell her and it goes well, we would only have the summer before I move all the way to fucking California. You’ll be on tour and this whole… thing would just be broken. And fucked up. I don’t want her for a summer, Patrick. I want her all the time, every day, like it was supposed to fucking be. I don’t want her for just a summer.” Art huffed, looking at his hands. The whole waitlisting bullshit threw a wrench in everything. Everything.

“You’d rather not have her at all?”

“I-” he flailed his hands around, “I don’t know! I don’t know how to tell her something like that and then move away.”

Patrick shrugged, “Could just kiss her.”

Art opened his mouth to speak and a knock on the door cut him off. Art pulled his shirt over his head as Patrick lunged to open it. It was you. Who else?

“You guys want to cut class?” You asked, arms folded over your chest, mouth pulled a little to the side, standing in your shorts and tank top, not dressed for class at all. Your hair was behind your ears, your lips just slightly glossy and you had that slight sparkle to your eyelids, but it was never too much. He would never get over just how beautiful you were, never ever. “I don’t feel like going today and I just want to do something fun or maybe even nothing?”

“That sounds great, but I actually was looking forward to doubles today…” Patrick groaned, putting a hand aside his head. Art knew him well enough to know Patrick was not looking forward to doubles. “But Art already has all his credits, I think he can stay. I’ll come back before dinner though?”

You nodded slightly and looked to Art, who still had his mouth a little open at the sudden position he was in. “Would you? I really don’t feel like going but I can just skip and meet you guys for dinner?”

Art nodded back at you, slowly. Patrick was playing wingman with expectations this time. ‘Could just kiss her,’ echoed around his head. He made eye contact with Patrick who, out of your line of sight, shot Art a telling look. He was giving Art a window. But skipping with you, being alone with you wouldn’t change the fact that when September came you’d be states away, alone, probably. The long distance would be hard and he knew he could maintain the friendship, but if he confessed and it went well, the long distance of a new relationship would probably kill him. And you. “Yeah, I’ll stay.” Art said.

When Patrick left for class, you came into their room and sat down on Art’s bed, next to him. You weren’t exactly yourself, the way you sat with your arms crossed and lacked that gorgeous smile Art looked forward to every day. You sat so close he could smell the sweetness of your perfume. “You okay?” he asked, looking at you with his head a little tilted, smiling gently.

“I can’t get the Stanford thing out of my head,” You admit. Art nodded. You’d been good about it. It upset you, he knew that it absolutely killed you, but you didn’t talk about it much- for Art’s sake, not wanting to depress him and Patrick with your delayed dream. “I know it’s stupid, I’m only waitlisted a year, but it was supposed to be different. They said I was a shoo-in, how could they say that and not mean it?” You vented. Art heard every word.

“They’re missing out for sure.” He said, hand sliding over your knee to rest just above it. “And Patrick is right- they’re fucked in the head and you deserved that place in the program more than anyone else.”

“Even if I deserved it, even if they’re fucked in the head, I’m still not going and that’s whats killing me.” You said, looking at him with sad eyes. He missed when they were full of light and happiness. “You know, it was supposed to be us. And now it’s not and I don’t know what I’m going to do without you- And Patrick.” Was Art mishearing or was there a pause? And us? Us. “I just feel so stupid and I’m suddenly so lost? I knew exactly what was coming and then it just stopped coming. And I’m terrified that I’m going to lose you both when we all go separate ways.”

“Couldn’t lose me.” Art said, eyes locked on yours. “I might be in California, but I have a phone. And it has a ringer and we have email and facebook and I don’t think I’d even know how to go a day without talking to you, so you know if you didn’t call, I would.” He said, admitting a little too much. “Patrick too, I bet.”

“I love that,” you smiled just a bit. “I just… I was so ready for things to change, but now I’m not. Even if I call you a hundred times in a day, would it feel the same?”

Art looked at the hand he had on your leg, at his thumb as it moved back and forth over your skin. “Probably not… But it would be the best thing until you come and visit. Or when I come home on holiday. It would just be to fill the spaces between, you know that the distance would mean nothing once we’re all together again.”

You looked down. “I know. I just don’t want it.” You sighed, leaning your head against Art’s shoulder. Art could smell your shampoo, it was soft and just as sweet as your perfume. “I’d just... I hate the idea of having to miss you. Distance fucking sucks.” You added. He agreed. Distance would suck. But right now you were here, next to him. He wouldn’t kiss you, he knew that. Not now.

But he turned his body just slightly and wrapped his arms around you, your head moving to just under his chin, resting against his chest. And he held you tight, he always would. And he didn’t resist his other urge, slowly tilting himself back so that he was laying down. You didn’t protest, you just held onto him tighter, laying next to him. Like most things between you two, they went unspoken. You in his arms, in his bed, god it was so telling but you didn’t say a thing. And neither did Art, aside from, “I don’t want it either.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

You didn’t seem to notice when he approached. You were heavily invested in your conversation with your friend, laughing and gesturing and you were even more beautiful up close. He could admit it to himself, he was amazed by how well-preserved you’d been. He maybe was expecting a bit of a grey streak, he remembered your mom being fully grey when you were only a teenager, but your hair was perfect. He was just a little bit to the side, in Abbey’s line of sight and she saw Art first, she looked happy to see him, he noted. Too happy for someone with a baby on the way. She put her hands up in the air like she meant anything to him and you looked over at him, seeing what Abbey was so delighted to see and for the first time in fifteen years, you locked eyes with Art.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- interlude

Art remembered the last time you looked at him. Confused eyes, sad ones, the ones he hated seeing, the ones he knew he caused. It wasn’t supposed to be the way it was. Your best friend felt like he just… wasn’t that anymore. Missed texts to missed calls after promises of hundreds in a day felt like lack of care. And it wasn’t on your end. When Art missed your calls, you stopped looking at your phone so much and you missed his. You visited him twice at Stanford, within the first few months and it was the same but he was so busy. So distracted, it seemed. You met Patrick’s girlfriend, Tashi Duncan and the only thought in your mind was that she looked at Art strangely. So when things unravelled, you asked him things and he answered honestly, leaving out the part that he knew went against his character. He was looking at you, thinking about how he should have kissed you at the airport before going to California but he was looking at a girl who wouldn’t kiss him. Not anymore.

And he missed you like he missed no one- when you stopped responding to his emails and Facebook posts. Your last post was October 4th, 2006, and it was a picture of you at a coffee shop you were beautiful, but Art was so lost on the guy next to you. He should have kissed you at that airport but he was tangled in this mess of Tashi who he had admittedly used to try and not miss you so much when you posted with one of your new guy friends, who you did not like romantically. But Art didn’t know that. He didn’t know how badly it hurt when you traveled to California to find him completely happy and distracted in a new life with new friends and forget that you were coming to visit. That hurt. He should have kissed you at the airport when he could before all of these things crashed and collided and brought you down. He was at fault, but you forgave him, you just didn’t speak again.

Patrick said it was fine, you’d come around. Art’s mom told him that you called to check in on her, but that growing apart does happen. He would ask himself how in the world did he end up growing apart from you. You of all people, but admittedly it was his own fault. These things just happen, distance ruins things.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- present

But there wasn’t much distance now. You were standing in front of him. Your expression didn’t change- it was a gentle smile upon laying eyes on him. Abbey asked him how he was and just like years ago, he brushed her off with a ‘would you excuse me?’ and passed her, sheepishly walking over to you.

“Hi, Art,” you said, head slightly tilted, lips pulled into that smile he hadn’t seen in years. Art felt shy around it, he hated that, but he was happy to see it. And you.

“Hi,” he replied.

You gestured to Abbey, “Reminds me of something.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he replied with a small chuckle. “I-um… How are you?”

“I’m doing okay,” you nodded. Art found himself glancing for a ring on your finger or maybe a baby bump he missed, but nothing. You were doing okay. “Oh, no ring.” You said, holding up your hand. “Wasn’t so lucky. How are you?”

He shook his head, still a little dazed that you were here in front of him, talking to him like you hadn’t gone fifteen years without doing so. “Not so bad.”

“That implies that there’s some bad,” you nodded, leaning against the wall. Your dress reminded him of another you’d worn. “Not so bad?”

“I’m okay…” He said. “Just… I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” As if he hadn’t spent every moment since RSVP-ing thinking about seeing you again. Finally seeing you again.

“Oh,” you nodded, understanding. “No, I get that. I didn’t think you’d come. Thought maybe you were busy winning some grand slam, too far ahead than the rest of us. It was a good win, your last big game in Chicago.”

“You kept up,”

“I couldn’t not. I’m not me if not nosey and that aside, your name all over everything tennis-related- billboards, even. You and Tashi.”

“You must have heard about the separation, then?”

“On the tennis new channel, surprisingly. Fuck them for making that public, and I am sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He replied, eyes not leaving yours. “It just wasn’t working out. She cheated.” He admitted, which he hated. Something about your eyes was a well-working trap for him to fall back into the exact boy he used to be in your presence. He wanted to tell you everything, he forgot what it felt like to be around you. But you weren’t different at all. You were still that same warm, caring girl you used to be.

“Art, I’m so sorry, that’s terrible. Nobody deserves that.” You said, eyes soft. Beautiful.

“It’s in the past.” He nodded again, looking at the ground. They hadn’t changed the gym floors since you’d left, he noted. They were the same. “Thank you, though. I actually, um, I have a daughter, though.”

“Lily,” you smiled. “I’m nosey, I told you. Is she much like you?”

“I think so.” He smiled back. You knew his daughter’s name and you knew about the divorce yet he had no idea what you’d been up to. “So, are you… working, are you…”

“I am.” You nodded. “I teach children with special needs how to play tennis, it’s a great job. Lots of fundraisers and events. It’s really lovely.” Art remembered when you were younger. You’d mentioned something of the sort- doing that. He couldn’t help but wonder if you had joined a company or made one. But he wouldn’t ask, the small talk was already killing him. “About your daughter though, I’d love to know more.”

He wanted to know more about you but he liked to talk about Lily and her hobbies and habits. It felt good to talk to you again as you engaged with him as if fifteen years was three months. It was strange, but the feeling of being around you and your light again, it was easy to brush it all off. Like he was eighteen and you were an addictive happiness. You were smiling as he spoke about his daughter. You were smiling so much that he had to stop at one point, unable to hide his own smile. “What?”

Your eyes went a little wide, but you kept smiling, shaking your head. “Oh, nothing. I just… I always knew you’d be a girl dad. And you seem like a good one.”

“Always knew?”

“Oh yeah, I think I first thought about it in grade ten… A girl knows these things.” You said. Your body language changed slightly, you tilted your head to the door. “Hm- Do you still smoke?”

“Do you?”

“When I need to.” You said. “It’s not a habit, it’s an occasional thing. Come with me?”

Art was surprised by the offer. But how could anyone say no to you? He nodded and followed you out. You stopped outside your car, a decent distance away from the building and hopped on the trunk, sitting like you would so many years ago. Your car was nice, so you must make good money, he noted.

“How are you really?” You asked Art, eyes genuine as you lit the cigarette. Art, focused on you, didn’t know how to answer that. He was wondering how you weren’t someone’s wife or mother because even after all these years, he couldn’t find flaw in you. Not one. You were still sweet and kind and lovely and you looked amazing, so how did nobody find you and keep you? You asked him how he really was as if you still saw through him. “You’re really doing okay?”

Art took the cigarette as you passed it to him. “I’m okay. It wasn’t easy- any of it, but it happened and it’s in the past.”

“That’s good.” You said, watching him take a drag. The soft wind blew your hair around your face. “I am sorry about what happened, it sounds awful. I had to check in, really check in. But that aside, you’ve really made a name for yourself out there. Big games, high stakes and a good reputation.”

Art nodded, eyes on the ground as he inhaled again and passed the cigarette back. Something about being here with you was surreal. You’d kept up and he had no way to do the same. “Thank you. I planned on retiring three years ago, but second wind came around. I plan on retiring next year, thinking about starting to coach.”

“You’d be a good coach,” you nodded, smoke blowing out from between your perfect lips.

“Maybe…” He started. Silence.

You nodded, “You’re thinking about the elephant in the… parking lot.” You said, looking around.

“I might be,” he replied, straightening himself out. “It’s been fifteen years and you’ve not said a word to me since… And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it. I’ve had a lot of time to.” Art rolled up his sleeves. You watched. “Fifteen years.”

“I know,” you replied, quiet. “But you have had an amazing career and you married the girl I was so worried about, had a daughter. Your life has been exactly what you wanted, that’s amazing. Could it have been the same with me in it?” Art wished it was you in it. “So I let time be time and do it’s thing, I know it’s been fifteen years.”

Art shook his head, “It couldn’t have been a space thing. Maybe I needed the space, but it was bound to exist anyway. We were best friends, you, me, Patrick- and Stanford changed things but you didn’t have to walk away. My life has been my life but it’s not that way because you walked away.”

You chuckled, “I know that. And I am beyond proud of you either way, but me, eighteen years old and in love with you? Showing up after a month of planning and you forgot I was even coming? Just about broke me. And of course, there was Tashi and-” You had more to say but Art felt all of his thoughts come to a halt. His fingers felt cold. He interrupted you-

“In love with me? You were in love with me?”

You laughed, so genuine, the sound was something he had missed sorely. “That’s even a question? Oh, I was so young, but I was very much in love with you. Patrick would never let me forget it. I had such a crush on you. You… you didn’t know?” You covered your mouth as you laughed, but Art felt a little bit frozen, but it was easy to laugh with you.

“I didn’t know, no.”

“So the fifteen years is because after you broke my little eighteen-year-old heart, I took the time to recover and I just… never did.” You admit, handing him back the cigarette, which he took without looking at. He was only seeing you. Part of him was kicking himself hard, angry that he hadn’t confessed when he had planned, knowing now, so many fucking years later than if he had said what he wanted to, he might have had you. There were the complications, but if he had you, there wouldn’t have been a Tashi situation. And in his mind he watched the possibilities unravel his life as he knew it- knowing that it could have been you. It could have been you. “As sorry as I am about it, I don’t regret it. You have an amazing-sounding daughter and the life that you and I used to talk about, going pro… And I have a job that I only got through staying on this side of things. If I was in California, I wouldn’t have met the sweet lady who started the company I own now.”

He hated that you were right. But he hated it more that he could have had everything he really wanted- the things you and him talked about- and it could have been with you. A house, a marriage, a child? The things he really wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to feel regret, but it was something close to the feeling. “I understand. I just- you liked me? Patrick knew?” His whole adult demeanour was destroyed by your youthful smile.

“He would play wingman,” you said. “It was awful, but it was still fun. And I think I should tell you, though it feels wrong, that I missed you. And I am sorry I didn’t reach out. It was too much.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he nodded back. “I missed you too. A lot. It took a while to get over what happened, but it’s been good…”

“I’m glad,” you replied. The cigarette was almost at it’s end. And for a while you just stared at each other. The words unsaid filled the air until it was almost suffocating. He could have had you. If he had said something. If he’d kissed you at the airport. Tashi might have been Patrick’s. Art hated to think about a world without his daughter but it was you. It was always going to be you no matter how many years passed. “I hate to ask this for the sake of my phrasing, but… no hard feelings?”

Art smiled down at his feet, hands back in his pockets, “No, no hard feelings.” He replied. “And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you too.”

You smiled that beautiful smile, the wind blowing your hair a little more. There was something so painting-like about this moment. It could be frozen in time, he wished it could be, and he made a mental note to engrave this image of you in his mind. You were just as gorgeous as the day you left and sure, it hurt to think about a little bit, especially all of the ‘what if’s, but you were here now. And there were no hard feelings. How could he ever have any toward you? It was you.

“You want to head back in?” You asked, digging a foldable toothbrush out of your purse along with a tiny tube of toothpaste.You truly not changed much in your ways. Art wondered if you remembered the last time you’d brought a little toothbrush and toothpaste out. He dug in his own pocket and pulled out his pack of mint gum. He noticed the way your eyes widened at the parallel. But then you just grinned, starting to laugh as you half-brushed your teeth, half giggled. Art chuckled too, popping a piece in his mouth. And the laughter lasted a while. It was like you were the same giddy teenagers who wouldn’t tell each other their biggest secret. But eventually it died down and you headed back inside.

The moment you were inside, he noticed the song playing. So did you. You stood there for a moment, not looking at anyone but him. The Cranberries playing loud over dusty speakers. The only Cranberries song you ever liked, Art remembered. You couldn’t stand the voice cracks in the one about zombies… He was a little confused when you held your hand out, but when you smiled, he remembered. In the spirit of parallels, you were asking him to dance. He remembered the promise he made you, he wouldn’t forget it. He had pinkie promised and you swore to make him regret it, but he never got the chance to. You never gave him a real reason to.

“You pinkie promised.” You said, tilting your head just in the slightest. “You swore.” You said it a little sing song. Fifteen years forgotten- they didn’t exist. You were here and you were asking him to dance with you.

“I did,” he said, smiling, hands still in his pockets. And he did take your hand and with a youthful giggle, you pulled him to the dance floor. It was one of those songs where you could scream the lyrics, you could spin and you could maybe even jump, but you just stayed close. Art wasn’t sure what exactly to do, but it was okay. You led at first, swaying just a little to get him into it. He grinned, unable to stop it. Fifteen years felt like seconds, like you never even left. Like you were those same young best friends dancing around your feelings, your truth. And you were so beautiful, spinning and swaying and your dress following you as you did. You laughed and it was melodious, you were so unaware of the eyes on you, of Patrick’s eyes. They met Art’s from across the room and a knowing smile spread up his old friend’s face. He raised his drink in their direction and Art nodded back.

Time might have made Art a little bit harder, colder, but you made him right back into who he used to be before life existed. Your light was brighter than the strobes spinning the walls of the room. You got him into it with a nearly-sixteen-year-old promise. The music loud, but just dull enough to hear you. Art was drawn back into you like you were a magnet. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have you. That he didn’t get that life with you. But you were here and you were still so perfect.

The dancing had somehow melted itself into something slower, though the pace of the song didn’t change. It was almost a hug, the way his hand slipped around your waist. It felt familiar and you… smelled the same way you used to. So sweet. Your arms around his neck, close to him. It wasn’t even a thought in either one of your brains that you ended up this way, but it felt right and you just did it, so that’s how you were. Swaying, like a slow dance, and the end of the song rolled around, the music dulling to only an instrumental.

You pulled away just a little, your faces just a little bit close. “I think it’s best we went our separate ways. It would have killed to me to stay your friend and watch you and Tashi’s life in person rather than in pictures.” You said quietly. “And if I’m honest I think I might still be a little bit in love with you.”

Art met your eyes at your confession. You looked like you regret what you said, but the concern in your eyes changed, eased. You could still read his expression. “I did love you too, you know.”

“I know.” You smiled. He grinned a little sheepishly, his grin still the same. His eyes were soft and he looked at you like he always did. Such a familiar gaze. “And I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“For still feeling the way I do. After what I did.”

“You’re not alone in it.” He admit with a small chuckle. And you giggled. And it felt like nothing else existed in the entire universe. Just you. Just him. He wasn’t blunt, but it was definitely still said. It really could ever only be you, no matter what. Even with Tashi, it was always you. A first love that could never truly be erased, despite the countless mistakes and sins of youth. It hadn’t worked, but looking at you now, he had that hope again. That it might.

You just continued to sway to the music. The promise to dance whenever you asked fulfilled. There was peace in saying what was left unsaid for so many years. There was peace in feeling it still. Feeling how he did about you was the most consistent thing in his entire life. He wasn’t who he had to be with Tashi, he was who he truly was with you. His big career in hindsight, his past with Tashi, his life that didn’t include you was behind him.

Patrick did wander over when the song ended. He came and stood beside you both, the lip of his bottle resting against his mouth. You and Art shared a look before you left the position you were in, hands slipping back to your sides. He was grinning a sly grin. A familiar one from back in the day. Knowing.

You just tsked, “You need to shave.” You said. Patrick just grinned, laughed.

“You too.”

“Really?” You laughed. “Okay, I see how it is.”

Art chuckled. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss this. As much as he wanted just you and him, the three of you together were something entirely different. Who wouldn’t miss the better days? The three of you got a little more caught up, Patrick was free to reveal his position as a double agent in your teenaged slowburn that never really fizzled out… You and Art didn’t mention anything said during that dance, but he knew without being told. Everyone who knew you both knew that you belonged together. The night was still young, but Patrick lowered his voice. “I have an ounce in the car.” He said, shrugging. The three of you shared a look and in minutes the three of you were hiking across the schoolyard. Adults. Stupid adults with stupid nostalgia, laughter echoing across the empty courts as you all walked down the hill.

Art moved the dead leaves and under it was still that circle of rocks. The dirt had somewhat filled it, but it was still a bit of a divot. And the logs had thinned out but they were still there. You sat next to Art like you always would. You turned your body to face him and you just looked at him, studying the way his face had changed, his hair… but it was still very much so the boy you’d loved years ago. He looked over at you and he smiled and it was a reflection of so many years ago. The exact same spots, the exact same people, the same reason to sneak away.

You had hoped you hadn’t overstepped. You didn’t come to the reunion to say what you said, but it was right. And you knew Art felt the same. He said so. The three of you stayed and talked for hours like nothing ever changed. Time could never truly change the three of you. No matter who fucked who, who married who, who went where, who did what. It was always you. It would always be you. And that aside- you and Artwould figure that out- it would always be the three of you. Proven by your very own lives.

taglist: @swetearss @lalalandofive @xoxog0ssipg1rl @bayleequits @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa

[muffinsin]

https://www.tumblr.com/muffinsin/784513086516264960/hiya-hope-its-not-rude-to-ask-but-do-you-still?source=share

I might be remembering it slightly wrong, but the basic premise was for Cassandra to be captured by a group of various different monster, followed by a gangbang

There might have been more to it, but that's the basics I remember

My my, at last! This one took so long to get out, especially with tumblr deciding to f*ck me over a little XD Thank you for the reminder, hon, I do hope the length rather makes up for the super long wait! This was real fun to write, it’s been a while since we’ve had some monsterfucking I think👀! Consider this a little early/late halloween post XP

PS: y’all seen the trailer for re9? I’m SUPER excited! Love to see them pick up an older character!👀 I’m hoping for Jill or Chris (or, please!, both in 9!)

Let’s get into it!🙌

Masterlists

Cassandra huffs quietly as she moves through the dark forest, her sickle clutched tightly in her gloved hand. Her face is illuminated only by the moon, fat and low in the sky and casting an almost ghostly glow over the forest floor. She exhales sharply, watching as mist curls along the ground and her breath fogs in front of her with every exhale. Her heels crunch against the dead leaves and damp ground, the scent of pine and dirt thick in the air. She inhales again, hoping to find- something.

It isn't that she's out here for fun, after all. Not entirely at least, she supposes.

No, having heard hunters scurry off and whisper to themselves about "monsters" haunting the forest this very night, every year, only at this time, it naturally caught her interest.

A monster...she almost chuckles. A beautiful catch it will be, indeed! Mother will be proud! And whatever this so called monster is, Cassandra is certain its head will look marvelous mounted on her wall, her most precious trophy, surely!

Her fingers toy absently with the handle of her sickle, just in case. But it's quiet, eerily so, as though all wildlife had magically disappeared- or perhaps only hidden away well enough. It only makes the huntress more curious in return.

Then, suddenly, a noise.

A twack, and a snap of a branch. She turns instantly, her dark golden eyes glistening in the dark forest. She hears another sound, a low snarl cracking the silence around her. Her lips part, breath hitching from the thrill of it.

She loves a good hunt, after all!

She turns as she hears whatever she took notice of move about, around her, circling her like a predator. This only makes her grin wider. Prey so rarely puts up a good fight, and certainly not enough to amuse her most of the time.

Then, a pair of pale eyes. They blink at her, one pair at first, then another. Cassandra raises her sickle a little, her posture growing more defensive instinctively as she watches the eyes move closer. Massive, wolfish forms step from the shadows. Taller than any man, walking on their hind legs. Shoulders furred and broad, fur matted. She eyes their claws, eyes the sharp teeth she manages to make out even in the darkness. She snarls as they begin circling her, growling loudly as though attempting to intimidate her.

Only is Cassandra not so easily intimidated.

She charges forward without thinking, figuring; this must be some variant of a lycan, perhaps a distant relative to the varcaloc, even. A foolish beast, a fierce predator, but no match for her.

Yet, when she raises her arm ready to strike the beast, she snarls as she feels a huge, clawed paw-like hand close around her upper arm instead. Her wrist is grabbed and she's pushed backwards already, her flies buzzing loudly. Ordinarily, she would free herself. Instead, she finds herself momentarily stunned and shocked into place as she's shoved back against the creature behind her, backside pushing against something large. Something she feels throb against her dress, something she can vaguely tell the shape of.

Looking down, she finds the same thing attached to the creature in front of her, doesn't even notice it step closer to her until her sickle is ripped from her and a large snout sniffs at her head and cleavage. She snarls, momentarily remembering what she came here to do. But again just as she's about to fight, another is faster. A massive arm slings around her, the fur hot against her dress, pressing onto her stomach and shoving her. She gasps as she feels the beast at the wrong nudge her chest boldly, her breath hitching and cheeks heating up as she suddenly feels it raise two large, clawed hands and tear at her dress, far too fast for her to even notice.

She's sandwiched between them now, feeling smaller than she has ever felt before. She gazes up at them, her cheeks flushed and mind racing as she feels the one by her front, a lycan-like creature with black fur, begin to tear away scraps of her clothing just as the one behind her, a creature with brown fur, begins to grind against her backside.

She lets out a shaky breath as she feels a rough, huge tongue lick up her jaw. She gasps as her corset is ripped away from her and the dress is torn up, leaving her only on her tiptoes in damp, black panties and a black bra just barely clinging to her still.

Her thighs rub together at the sight of the monstrosity now revealed to her, the thick, dark pink, knotted cock dangling between the creature's legs. She feels humiliation creep up on her and a blush spread on her cheeks as she feels rough, paw-like hands grope at her ass and hips, both from behind and the front. She knows, she shouldn't want this. But, surely, there's nothing wrong with a little bit of fun. She will still bring the creatures back to the castle, one's head mounted on her wall, the other kept a personal pet if the monstrous thing proves good enough. Mother will never know, will never even notice she sneaked out in the first place.

She shivers as she feels the black furred creature step closer to her, the hair ticklish against her bare skin. She jumps as her bra is tugged away sharply, as though offending the creature, though doesn't move away despite her snarl and quiet hiss. She feels them sniff at her, feels the one from behind her sniff and prod at her throat and shoulders, as though perhaps trying to tell where she's from. The other licks and inhales the scent clinging to her chest. Together, the rough tongues tasting her skin are enough to make her moan already, her panties uncomfortably warm on her and pussy drooling wetness onto them.

She flinches as the creature in front of her snaps its head down, as though finally having picked up on the sweet scent, too. In a brief moment's time it already moves down, it's sharp teeth suddenly grazing her inner thigh.

She can't help but spread her legs a little more, her body easily supported by the beast holding her from behind. She shivers as that one lets out a low, possessive growl, the thick, sharp claws gripping at her and pinning her arms behind her. She moans, a sharp, startled sound, half desperate and half breathless. Her flies buzz loudly in anticipation as she feels the creature lick at her throat hungrily, her thighs twitching a little with desire as hot breath hits it and fur tickles her skin.

The first lycan noses between her legs, not gently, and she bucks with a whimper as her panties are yanked away from her. Clawed fingers hold onto her thighs, ripping them back open as they tremble and almost dare shut. Of course, the feral thing has none of it. She whimpers, bucking helplessly as she feels the long, rough tongue drag against her pussy. She's held open, her pink cheeks licked and throat soon slick with drool, her body held in place perfectly. The black furred creature laps at her hungrily, as though already addicted to the taste of her.

She lifts her hips a little, moaning hotly as she hears the monster snarl, as though approvingly. It pushes a little harder between her legs, large, rough tongue dragging between her folds the moment the beast figures out that's where more of her arousal lingers.

She's trembling within moments, her thighs slick and parted, her body now pinned helplessly between the two massive beasts. She feels the heat radiating from their bodies, looks up to see them tower above her, shadows ripping across their fur in the moonlight. She can't bring herself to look away, finding herself almost lost in the look of their sharp teeth, bared occasionally as though they're attempting to fight over their "prey".

Looking down, she just barely manages to catch a glimpse of the monster's now throbbing hard cock, huge, inhuman even, just like the one pressed against her back. She takes in the thick veins running along its dark red and pink skin, shivers and pulses as she spots and picks up the scent of precum dripping slowly from the tip. And, of course, the base. Swelling with a bulging, fat knot, she can almost feel it throb and pulse against her backside. It looks like it shouldn't fit. Like it can't.

Instead, she only spreads her legs a little wider, groaning hotly.

She insists to herself- if only to cling to a remainder of her pride and dignity- she's just doing this for fun. It isn't like the castle offers much of this, offers her actually getting filled by something other than fingers and her toys.

She's just making use of an opportunity, really, she insists.

Still, she moans and arches her back as she feels the rough, wet, textured tongue drag over her slit and collect more wetness. She's gasping through her teeth as the thing licks across her, tasting her like an animal. She squeaks momentarily as she- finally- feels the wet muscle push inside and pull back out to lick again, wide, hungry swipes that occasionally push into her with brutal sloppiness. Each lap probes deeper, the length of it curling in her, fucking her open slowly.

The second one behind her presses closer, grinding against her back with animalistic, feverish desperation almost. She jumps as she feels the claws dragging up her waist, moaning hotly as they instead cup her breast harshly. She's groped roughly, her fair and pale skin cut by sharp claws and forcing more moans to tumble from her lips. Her nipple rolls beneath a large finger, her hips shaking as the tongue pushes deeper into her. She feels wet precum smear against her bare back, feels how it clings to her and has her begin to reek of it already.

She feels like prey, almost, held tight and taken, claimed and tasted feverishly, wanted.

She moans loudly, attempting to roll her hips to grind against the tongue inside of her. But, much to her disapproval, the finds the beast pulling away with a wet sound instead, snarling lowly.

It stands next, towering over her, furred chest heaving, massive cock twitching. She feels it press against her inner thigh as the beast steps closer, shrieks as she's pulled forwards a little by her hips. This close, she smells the blood and arousal sticking to the black furred monster, the pack leader if she had to guess. Her cheeks flush as she feels the thick head of the cock press to her entrance, her eyes suddenly wide. She can't recall the last time she even attempted to have something of this size within her, if anything!

She's trembling slightly, grunting as she's lifted a little higher, much to the creature's convenience. Her toes barely graze the ground as a furred arm wraps back around her stomach and her wrists are finally released properly, her hands trembling slightly with every grope of her breasts. She raises them to clutch at the black fur by the beast's chest, her face scrunching up a little as she feels the thing step closer and begin to force the head of its cock inside of her.

Then;

a push.

She gasps, her breath knocked from her lungs as the beast forces itself inside. Inch by inch she feels herself being stretched open mercilessly, her pussy gripping the creature tight and far, far more desperate than she'd like to admit.

"Ngnn...wa-watch it...!", she snarls breathlessly, her pussy drooling and spasming around the thick intrusion as her body struggles to take it. She feels the other slip between her ass cheeks and rut wildly between them, the knot slapping against the bottom of her cheeks and rubbing against the back of her strong thighs. She tightens her grip on the fur, her head tilting back as the beast's cock pushes inside nearly fully, the knot flush against her southern lips.

Wetness drools from her, her inner thighs soon smeared with wetness and sticky with sweet sweat as she's taken, rough, hard, her body trapped in place between the two hulking creatures. Perhaps, had she paid more mind to the villagers, had she listened to them longer, she would know more of the creatures crawling from the shadows on this particular night.

Alas, Cassandra has never been known to practice patience.

The beasts snarl around her, hips rolling in a steady, brutal rhythm. One pounding into her with thick, wet slaps that have her see stars, the other thrusting between her large ass cheeks and slowly covering them with precum. She moans loudly, then breathily again, her pussy squelching and drooling arousal and thick precum every few seconds, juices soon dripping from her and spit soon drooling at her lips. The pace isn't fast, not entirely, but deep, grinding, and more claiming than she has ever experienced it.

"Y-Yes...! More...fuck!", she gasps, tilting her head as she feels a tongue slide across her neck again. Her back arches a little more, fur ticklish against her skin, claws drawing blood that only excites her further.

She tightens around the monstrosity within her every so often, resulting in a loud snarl or groan filling the otherwise rather quiet forest.

She whines hotly as they speed up already, their pace turning rough, hungry, feral even. She feels the knots hot and heavy against her, one slapping against her pussy wit a wet plap every few seconds, the other hitting her ass cheeks with every sharp thrust upwards. She feels herself slipping close to the edge fast, too fast, squirming and moaning in their grips.

She gasps as she's pushed forwards, held against the black furred creature this time, her eyes nearly going cross at the new, deeper angle. Having her hips controlled easily, her pants and gasps easily turn into high pitched moans and squeals as she's bounced with the thrusts, dragged down for deeper ones, held in place tightly.

"...Nmmhmmm- w-wait!", she suddenly gasps as she feels clawed hands part her ass cheeks, the soaked, wet tip of the other creature pressing hotly against her most sensitive part. Her cheek is flushed bright pink and warm, her own, smaller claw-like nails digging into the black furred monster as though in protest. Alas, there was no waiting, now.

She screams and trembles as the thing is slowly forced into her tight ass, the precum smearing against her insides.

And, Black God, it feels full.

She's gasping and moaning for breath, her breasts bouncing with every hard thrust. Brunette hair falls into her face as she trembles and shakes, her body held tightly in place by sheer force, her hands weakly holding onto the creature as she's stuffed. She feels them thrust and grind deep into her, their knots pressed up against her, daring to enter at any moment. She knows, given her current position- held between them, sandwiched between furred chests with her toes just barely grazing the ground and her flies far too oriented to swarm, there isn't anywhere to go even if they decided to push the brutal knot inside.

She groans hotly as she feels one throb just outside her soaked folds, too wide to enter her, put pressing hotly against her all the same, pressing harder with each brutal thrust that nearly send her over the edge. Her walls clench around the two greedily, her body breaking out into shivers as they thrust into her, each their own rhythm, each almost too much for her to handle. She feels the stretch, feels the burning ache of it.

She screams as the one behind her fully steps back against her, thrusting in as far as it could without the knot slipping in. Her ass is forced wide around the cock, throbbing hotly around it as her entire body jolts in response and an orgasm is torn from her. She's tight, too tight, her holes fluttering as the two creatures ram inch after inch into her still.

She can't think anymore, can only drop her head against one of them- she doesn't even know which anymore- her body maneuvered by them. The first growls against her, one powerful thrust enough for her breasts to bounce and to send her backwards, meeting the other's thrust in her ass perfectly to send her body rocking violently between the two again, clenching around the cocks stretching her out. They move brutally, giving her no time to recover from her orgasm at all, one pushing, the other pulling, her lower stomach bulged from the sheer size of them in her.

Cassandra groans hotly, each thrust forcing moans from her throat, moans soon twisted into helpless, needy sobs.

She's sweating, drooling, her hair hanging in her face and mouth dropping open as they use her. She feels stuffed, can only moan and pant as she's stretched out and taken, her own arousal fucked deep inside of her. She barely notices something...new.

Another creature, moving in, curious. She doesn't notice until she lifts her head and finds gleaming eyes in the bushes. At first, she shrieks, thinking it might be one of her sisters having followed her outside, but quickly realizes; the eyes are not golden, nor yellow, but sport a deep, bloody red colour. She groans and gasps from between the beasts, her eyes attempting to take in the shape of the new creature. Her body is rocked harshly, one thrust enough to make her lose her breath. The creature watches, unblinking, cold, intrigued by the beautiful brunette drooling cum and screaming bloody murder in the forest.

It was only a matter of time until her moans and hot groans attracted attention, really.

She blinks, breath catching in her throat as she attempts to focus. Her body rocks- no, is being rocked- with each thrust, but still, there's something out there. Someone. She can't speak, can't call out. Now, trapped between two larger creatures, her weapon on the ground, completely bare and stretched, so overwhelmed she can't even swarm- she isn't even sure she wants to call out.

She blinks again, gasping when the creature is suddenly gone. She turns her head, trying to spot it again, but all it does is have one rough, long and textured tongue return to her throat and lick at it lazily.

She moans and gasps, shrieking as she suddenly feels hot, thick seed be shot inside of her, her ass heating up with the warm cum drooling into her. The beast behind her pants hotly against her, a rough, low sound as it bottoms out in her, cum drooling from its thick balls whereas the rest of the fill stretching her stomach, bulging it slightly more than it already is. She groans at the feeling, suddenly brought right to the edge of her orgasm, too, by the sensation of the cock slapping into her soaked ass.

Then, suddenly, a hand, cold, harsh, grabs at her. She gasps as her wrist is seized, rough, but now clawed. The grip is firm as iron, only tightening when she attempts to tug her arm away instinctively and- much to her humiliation and alarm- can't. Looking to the side, she sees her wrist held right by what she almost thinks is a human if not for the pale- too pale- skin and the red glowing eyes. She tries to tug her hand free again, tries to squirm away, suddenly feeling humiliation creep back up on her to be seen like this, in this state, so up close the not-human is certain to hear the wet plaps of the cocks drilling into her pussy and ass. Again, it's of little use, her wrist held tight, her hand uselessly slamming down on a black furred chest, her body held so tight she can't hope to get away without swarming.

Then, for just a moment, she catches the new creature opening it's mouth to reveal sharp fangs that, in the next moment already, are driven into her wrist. She screams, moaning hotly at the pain, her second orgasm torn from her with it and, it seems, enough to drive the black furred creature over the edge as well.

She feels dizzy as her pussy is flooded with cum, her womb full and stomach bulged round between the creatures, her arm hanging limply as she's fed on. Her. When she should be the one feasting on them! Alas, now, she can barely even keep her eyes open, her body held up by them entirely, slumped between them, her other hand dropping to her bulged stomach as though she was bred properly. She shivers, somewhat aware of the vampire's hand lifting towards her, brushing fingers slowly across her jaw and just beneath the curve of her chin.

She groans hotly, feeling the fingers dip down a little more and linger by her cleavage now, almost ghosting across the top of her breasts.

She sobs out moans as she's toyed with, her ass burning around the large cock taking it, her pussy milking the last remains of cum from the other creature as it pants and growls against her, either unaware, or disinterested in the presence of the vampire.

Her breast is groped first, rough, enough to leave a mark and enough to make her tighten and pulse around the cocks inside of her, her thighs trembling as her body attempts to losen up after the orgasm.

Next, her nipples, found fast and targeted almost immediately. She whines hotly as the first is pinched, her wrist twitching helplessly, the sharp teeth grinding against her skin as her blood is licked up. Then, a tug, her back arching even more as she attempts to follow suit. She gasps as the little bud is let go of again, then moans and whines hotly as it's trapped between two fingers again and rubbed, slowly teasing her.

Ah, and Black God, it's working.

She's a mess of moans, drool, and filthy, lewd sounds, her thighs sticky with cum, her body trembling and flies buzzing loudly, swarming about unorganized by her limbs. She gasps loudly as she feels another deep thrust into her ass, then shrieks as the first moves again, this time grinding the knot against her, harder, and harder, as though trying to force it into her soaked pussy already. She doesn't notice when her wrist is dropped eventually, drooling dark, infected blood she didn't think would be appealing to drink in.

Instead, her jaw is grabbed, her head turned to the side just in time for her to feel the vampire's lips brush hers. They lean in closer, tongue darting out across her mouth and lips. Too lost in the pleasure, she mindlessly tries to lean in, blushing fiercely when the creature pulls away and laughs richly, as though amused by her needy, ruined state.

"So you enjoy being watched, fierce girl...", they purr against her mouth, their lips curving to a smile. She shivers at the words, her cheeks heating up at them. She does. Her body is trembling violently, caught in the relentless rhythm of the two beasts rutting into her. Her pussy feels sore already, soaked, twisting and pulsing with every little ache of the cock inside of it and every brutal slam of the brown furred beast into her ass, rutting like a beast in heat. As if to add on that, the knot slowly attempting to force itself into her pussy.

She jolts with every thrust, sweat dripping down her back. Her mouth drops open a moment and the vampire uses the opportunity for themselves, forcing their lips onto hers and swallowing in her moans greedily. Every wrecked little sob and gasp is swallowed by a greedy tongue, her own sharp, fang-like teeth scraping against real fangs, her tongue dominated so easily in her current state.

Pulling away, she feels the vampire's fingers linger back on her lips, smearing spit and the blood from her wrist across them like gloss. Cassandra attempts to blink through the haze, eyes unfocused, and moans as her nipple is pinched between thumb and forefinger again.

If anyone was to claim she, the great Cassandra Dimitrescu, might ever find herself bred and slutted out, drooling from her holes and whining at every pinch to her dusty pink nipples, she might flay them in her anger.

Now, though? She can only gasp and moan hotly, twitching, her body jerking as a little of the knot is forced inside already. It burns, aches. She loves the pain, craves it, spreads her legs weakly as though asking for more. Again, she feels the familiar, light feeling in her stomach already, her orgasm slowly rising, her body given no break at all between them.

"So soft...", the vampire mumbles by her hear, dragging the tip of their nail in slow circles over her nipple. She shudders, moaning softly at the sensation so strikingly soft in contrast to the harsh thrusts into her ass and the tight, stretching sensation of the knot being worked into her pussy. Her heart thunders as the other hand slips down to tease her other nipple, her chest toyed with, her body completely at the beasts' mercies.

Then, at last, she screams as the knot is shoved into her, the other half slipping it once the beast managed to work the first into her. It gives a sharp snarl, hips slamming harder immediately, rutting with maddening force. The knot never slips from her, sealing her pussy tight and stretching it more with every little move.

Behind her, she hears a low, almost competitive growl, claws digging harder into her ass cheeks as she feels a savage shove into her. She cries out, her legs twitching uselessly as part of the knot is forced in her tight ass, the hole pulsing around it. her voice is hoarse now, raw, her body becoming tighter and tighter the closer she gets to her orgasm.

Her head drops forwards as she feels her chest groped roughly, her breasts kneaded roughly like dough, as though they were the vampire's to take. Perhaps, they are. She certainly feels it, the thrill of being prey, the aftermath and anticipation of being bred all at once, reduced from a respectable huntress to a trembling, drooling hole in the forest, stuffed, pinned, toyed with as she might normally toy with others.

She never thought she might be the toy.

She can only moan, hearing more snarls around her, feeling the knot slowly push into her ass as the other is grinding against her spongy inner walls. Despite her best efforts she knows, she can't prevent another orgasm, not like this, not stuffed full and toyed with.

As such, she screams when the knot pushes in, he body locking up as she's claimed and her orgasm washes over her, her ass stretched to the limit as the knot locks in place. Both furred creatures snarl and howl as she tightens around them and she's only barely aware of the vampire moving closer and sinking their fangs into her chest, sucking and biting at her breast and caressing her sore nipple with their warm tongue.

She screams again as she feels massive teeth sink into her shoulder, the black furred beast howling into her skin as she feels it come, too. Again, cum is shot deep inside of her and she shivers, feeling the vampire's hands sink down to her stomach as it bulges wider with every second of cum being shot inside of her. By the time she's reached her limit it drools past the slowly deflating knot and down the beast's cock, past the balls she can't even see with her chest, the vampire, and her large stomach in the way.

She doesn't notice how her screams attracted something else, a shadowy figure moving from the dark shadows cast by the hulking trees. She doesn't notice it watch her as her neck is bitten and she cries out, doesn't notice it take in her bare form, covered mostly by the large creatures around her.

The next moments seem to go by in a blur, almost. She feels her breast released with a pop, feels a tongue smooth out the bite at her throat, feels the knot throb in her tight, hot ass as she tries to adjust. She feels the hands groping her stomach move to the claws holding her hips.

One moment the black furred wolf is still buried to the knot inside of her, panting heavily against her throat as thick ropes of cum drool down its cock. In the next, she gasps as the creature is knocked away, replaced by the vampire crouching down between her spread legs. Quickly, the beast behind her grabs her beneath her arms to keep her standing, her legs completely numb.

Cassandra curses lightly under her breath as her blush travels down her throat and to her chest, suddenly feeling almost shy again as she feels cold fingers part her pussy lips and dark, glowing red eyes take in the cum drooling out of her stretched hole. She looks down, can barely make out the vampire licking their lips.

She notices the black furred beast move close again, prowling, slower. It doesn't pick a fight, as though there was a silent understanding between the two, instead moving on all fours this time as it bends down to lick the blood still dripping from Cassandra's wrist.

She shivers as the hot tongue rasps against the wound, slow, lapping like a beast at sacred prey. She hears it grunt even over her own moans, her eyes briefly slipping shut as the knot in her ass grinds harder inside of her. She feels her thighs be moved apart, feels the cold hands move them across the vampire's shoulders as a large nose drags up her arm.

The hot tongue rides higher, higher, higher in long strokes until it reaches the crook of her elbow, smearing saliva and scent marking her in the progress. She certainly knows it, knows its purpose. Knows prey is usually marked like this.

The cum stretching and bulging out her stomach is hardly helping her humiliation.

She gasps, however, as a massive hand grabs hers and guides it down, forcing her fingers down to the twitching length still drooling cum from the deflating knot. She moans, barely coherent, but- as much as she wants to snarl at herself- obeys in the hazy state she's put in. Her hand closes weakly around it, her fingers unable to wrap all the way around the base of the slick knot, and begins stroking the beast's cock slowly.

Behind her, she feels the creature's cock throb within her, hips thrusting slowly as though she's too tight to allow for much more with the knot inside.

She feels the cock ache in her, every pulse another reminder of how stuffed she is. She doesn't notice the vampire move closer- can't, not in this position, not with her stomach in the way. She only notices when a tongue drags slowly over the inside of her trembling thigh, making her choke on a sob.

"Delicious...", the creature whispers against her, licking again, a little higher. She moans hotly as she feels them lick the mix of cum drooling from her swollen pussy lips, her toes curling as her and the beast's cum is lapped up as though it's spilled wine. She twitches helplessly, her body too heavy for her to support it even if she was let go, her pussy throbbing beneath the patient tongue.

Moving in, she gasps as the vampire's nose brushes up against her throbbing, neglected clit, the creature's tongue driving deep inside her stretched hole. If the other beast behind her using her ass bothers them, they certainly don't show it.

She tries to move, but can't feel her legs, her body one endless throb, filled nearly to the brim and drooling thick cum onto an awaiting tongue and from her ass.

Then; the cold. Not the cold she's used to, promising death, not the kind of chill coming from the vampire's touch. It feels worse and better at the same time, crawling up her spine like ice, yet lacking the pain of it. Her breath catches in her throat and just barely she manages to spot the darkness move among the trees.

Just briefly she's reminded of early years spent hiding beneath her mother's or Bela's blanket, trembling with fear, crying about "the boogeyman" getting her once she overheard two maids talking about him.

It seems, after all these years, she is finally caught.

She watches as the shadows move on, a ripple of blackness, a shape with no face, looming. She feels as though the shadows close in all around her, reaching her, shrieks as long, dark tendrils looking like shadows slither through the air like smoke made solid.

Cassandra screams as the first reaches her, wrapping around her ankle and pulling it to the side a little, as though the creature was interested in the display of her sopping, drooling pussy twitching beneath the talented, relentless tongue. She doesn't dare look away from the shape, terror and arousal rushing through her. She rocks less now, the thrusts into her ass turning to grinding as though the beast had given up on trying to get deeper into her.

She just barely still strokes the cock by her fingers, her hand sticky wet with cum already.

She shivers as she feels another tendril wrap around her thigh, pulling again, her legs spread wide and held in the air. Another, curling around her waist. She gasps as it squeezes, but her voice is caught in her throat when more slither up her sides. Some, brushing her ribs. She groans hotly as others curl around her breasts and squeeze, hard enough to make her back arch in shock.

She trembles as the vampire moans against her pussy, chuckling lowly as she jolts from terror and pleasure alike. Their tongue flicks in slow, tormenting circles over her swollen clit now, fingers parting her pussy lips to expose her ruined, drooling hole. She whines softly, tries to rock her hips at the embarrassing display, yet they're only squeezed again and the brown furred wolf snarls behind her, panting hotly already. She isn't sure how her body is meant to take more cum inside.

"She's a sensitive one...", she hears and feels the vampire murmur against the skin, as though addressing the shadows and scolding them for wrapping around her so roughly.

If it was meant for the boogeyman-like creature, it doesn't listen.

More tendrils wrap around her breasts, shadowy and cool, pinching her nipples and tugging them, twisting until she sobs and clenches around the knot in her ass so much it hurts. Another coils between her hot thighs, sliding slick and cold against the mess of cum and saliva smeared over her pussy.

She thinks, almost, she will experience the cold inside of her for the first time, threatening, but not deadly like the one coming from the temperature.

Instead, her eyes widen with horror and she tries to yelp out a weak protest as she feels it slide further, teasing at the curve of her ass cheek, bumping against the furred creature's thick cock still twitching inside of her.

Cassandra never felt so exposed.

She's held open, displayed, almost. Her chest heaves and nipples throb as they're toyed with, her fingers weakly twitching against the cock now openly rubbing against her arm. Her legs are pinned as her clit is lapped at and sucked into the vampire's mouth. Every little brush of fangs against it has her jolt again, resulting in a low hum against her pussy that brings her yet closer to another orgasm she isn't even sure her body can handle.

The tongue works her low, cruel like she might normally be. She feels the vampire lap and suckle at her, spitting on her drooling pussy only to lick it up again. At last, she feels two fingers shove into her, curling to rub against her inner walls as she shrieks, her body just barely able to cope with the stimulation of being fucked quickly again.

She knows, to her greatest humiliation, she's leaking everywhere.

She can't form words, can barely focus on what's happening, her entire body touched and teased. She can only whimper and moan, let out desperate, needy little sobs she would never think come from her mouth.

She trembles as the shadow moves closer, faceless and voiceless, yet unmistakably focused on her. She screams as the one by her ass moves to the front and forces itself into her pussy instead, her lips parting wide enough for an opportunity.

Cassandra's eyes open wide as she feels a shadowy tendril force itself between her lips, moaning as it slowly fucks itself against her tongue. Tears roll down her cheeks, her body past overstimulation already as she feels her orgasm approach. The tendril inside of her curls against the fingers thrusting in and out of her and she trembles as she feels her clit pulse and throb against the awaiting tongue, her body so close already.

She feels as though she's breaking.

Her thighs shake as she cums again, her screams and moans muffled by the tendril in her mouth, her pussy quivering against the vampire's mouth as she's made to take more. She's sobbing openly, her pussy on fire as cum floods her ass and the beast immediately begins rocking its hips again, pushing it deeper into her.

Every thrust into her swollen ass has her cry out and twitch, every little move in her stuffed pussy has another wave of tears run down her cheeks. Her nipples are bright pink from abuse already when they're flicked again, prompting another loud groan from her.

She's never felt like this, never this full, never this spent, this overwhelmed.

She thinks, almost, that even the creatures must have limits when she felt the one from behind her slip out of her, cock twitching, clearly also overstimulated, and leaking. Her ass immediately drools cum, gaping, stretched wide and tightening around nothingness for a moment.

She didn't even notice the other move, not until she squeals as her hips are grabbed by larger claws instead and she feels the long, thick cock of the black furred creature slip into her ass this time. At the very least, she can't help but think in the back of her ruined mind, the knot is gone.

She feels barely conscious now, grabbed by the waist and held like a ragdoll, feet dangling in the air and holes stuffed again. Her eyes shut and muffled moans increase as the beast thrusts into her, sharp, rough, enough to rock her body back and forth again.

Already, it feels like every touch is capable of tearing another orgasm from her, every lap at her clit, every sadistic blow to it afterwards. She cries and cries out as her clit is sucked again and the fingers curl tighter inside of her, all sounds muffled by the tendril occupying her mouth. She feels it push deeper, gags as it moves to thrust down her throat hungrily.

She can't tell how much time passes, can't tell what's happening with her vision blurred from tears and body overstimulated.

Ah, but she feels it.

Claimed. Stuffed. Bred.

Theirs, this night.

A predator turned to prey. She can't bring herself to think of anything, can't bring herself to even realize there is no way she makes it back to the castle before morning or, perhaps more importantly, without her stomach bulged wide and her holes drooling thick cum.

She gurgles helplessly with pleasure and shock as the boogeyman's thick tendril thrusts against her G-Spot, reaching deeper than even the first creature's cock had. Her eyes roll back, drool spilling from her lips as the thing forces it's way deeper into her, inch by endless inch, filling her completely.

Her mouth.

Her pussy.

Her ass.

Even her womb, all of it, claimed.

The dark furred creature behind her snarls, leaning closer to her, panting as though enjoying her suffering. She whimpers as she feels it lick the swear from her neck and lap up at the blood gathered there, hips snapping back and forth against her ass.

She feels almost dizzy with it all;

the vampire, sucking and lapping at her throbbing clit, burning up below the wet muscle, sensitive beyond words. She cries and cries from overstimulation, yet rolls her hips greedily still. Her pussy flutters around the fingers, tensing and twitching helplessly at the rather quick pace.

the creature, rough and fast behind her, as though fucking the cum deeper into her ass and claim every little inch of it for itself after the other, presumably one from its pack, filled her.

And, of course, the tendril in her pussy. Not fast, not overly rough. But deep. So deep, she sees stars and shakes, so deep it highlights every other touch- the tendril sliding against the inside of her throat, the ones toying with her sore nipples and kneading her large breasts, the ones squeezing her thighs and waist.

The tendril pulses with unnatural rhythm, curling inside her like a living thing and rubbing against her deepest spots as though massaging her from the inside out. More shadows slither up her thighs, caressing her skin, teasing her, toying with her, so light she can't tell whether they were there at all.

A nightmare

No, not quite.

A wet dream like no other.

Her scream dies down as she comes again already, a tidal wave of release shaking her down to the bone. Her toes curl, her pussy spasming and ass clenching tight around the cock inside of it.

Her fifth orgasm? The sixth? She easily lost count, her mind hazy and head light, her body completely overwhelmed.

Her body is handled like a marionette, slick with swear, blood and cum, held between them like a prize and prey alike.

A toy, she thinks, cheeks burning bright.

Her muscles tremble and body twitches with every move, even as even they seem to have taken pity on her and slowed down, sensing she must be near passing out already- remarkable, certainly.

Her jaw aches already, throat burning with the tendril sliding up and down. Her lips are slick with spit already, but the tendril doesn't stop.

When she feels the tendril inside her pussy slip from her and move to her mouth too, she has no strength left to resist, nothing left at all as it replaces the other and plunges inside, past her lips, down her throat. Her own taste and the one of the first creature's cum greet her immediately, drowning her in it. She doesn't know how much time has passed, doesn't notice the sun slowly rising behind her.

She trembles, though, feeling what must be the brown furred creature's tongue lick against her stretched pussy, far too easily accessible now with the tendril gone and the vampire's fingers sliding away to cup her bulged stomach again. It feels heavy, so heavy she isn't sure how she is meant to move with it or swarm. So bulged she can't hide it away beneath layers of clothing, can't hope to hide it away from her family should they lay eyes on her. That is, if the scent of cum and predators she reeks of doesn't give her state away immediately. At the very least, it matters none now, all these thoughts easily fucked from her.

She groans around the tendril in her mouth, her eyes snapping open as she feels the chill by her face.

What she can only imagine must be the boogeyman is close to her, the faceless shape so very near her own face, as though to take in her blissed, helpless expression as she cries. Another shove of the tendril down her throat has her shriek, the sound coming out muffled, new tears running from her eyes and dripping down her cheeks.

She can't see a face, much less eyes, but feels as the creature studies her and takes her in, feels how it gazes at the tears running down her cheeks, then the bulge the tendril causes in her throat. She can only flinch as it reaches out, the touch light and grounding at the same time. She almost thinks, even with pleasure coursing through her, that this is it, the single thing she has always been terrified of coming to kill her. Instead, a loud shriek is heard from the shadows as it snatches her choker necklace from her.

She tries to reach out for it, yet her arms hang too heavy, her body too tight and loose at the same time, her exhaustion too grand. She watches as her beloved necklace disappears in the misty shadows, as though pocketed for a future encounter, or perhaps simply a reminder of this.

After all, Cassandra shrieks as the tendril suddenly pulls from her throat, coughing and gasping for air, shrieking as the others pull away too. What she can only assume was the boogeyman moves away fast as the sky turns slightly lighter, moving back to the shadows of the trees as the vampire snarls, clearly unsatisfied, and moves away from her spread legs.

She gasps as the other two pull from her and she's lowered on the floor, a kiss stolen from her by the vampire before they too flee into the forest before the sun is given time to rise fully and shower the forest in its warmth and brightness.

She trembles on the ground, her thighs shaking, her pussy and ass pulsing. She can't move, not yet, instead resting against the mossy ground as she pants. She's shivering, knows she can't stay here for too long, especially without clothing.

But, just for a little while, she dares catch her breath, a satisfied, exhaused smile playing on her lips.

[thecheshireprincess]

Finality

Ginji Kyuma x F!Reader

Summary: Kyuma's reign as King of Clubs is over, but he's going to remind you that you'll rule his heart forever

Content Warning: NSFW (18+); porn with plot, smutty smut, just smut fr, sex in public, kind of like angsty sex?, major character deaths (including you), curse words

I won't tell anyone what or what not to do, but please interact responsibly ✨️

A/N: Short and kind of depressing, ngl

I really stretch the boundary of three minutes here; time works differently in Borderland, don't you know?

The player team had won. Kyuma's reign as the King of Clubs will come to an end.

Winning was an inevitability - your team had the upper hand; all you had to do was sit and wait for time to expire. You weren't sure exactly what had caused the tides to change, but you personally suspected Kyuma's empathy for the player team's leader had been capitalized on. It didn't matter, though, none of you could be mad at him for having such a big heart. Each of you had been a beneficiary to his kindness in more ways than one over the years.

The only thing that matters now? Getting to him. Uta pulls you into a warm hug, your best friend pressing her forehead to yours one final time. Relaxed in knowing you'd already told the group everything you needed to in the days prior, you simply wave to the men before rushing off in the direction of the ocean. There's just over three minutes remaining in the game, and you needed to spend every second you had left wisely.

Your breath hitches when his statuesque form comes into your line of sight; the man facing away from you, gaze cast out at the sparkling blue ocean in front of him in silent reflection. The soft breeze tousles his dark hair playfully, making your heart pound against your rib cage in admiration of your boyfriend's beauty. The man, having been expecting you, turns his head in acknowledgment of your presence. He offers a hand in your direction with a small flourish - come to me.

You rush towards your boyfriend, gratefully accepting his proffered hand and melting easily into his muscular arms when he pulls you in. The two of you spend a moment drinking in each other's appearances, fingers dancing appreciatively over taut and sun-tanned skin. This would be the last time in these forms that you'd be able to enjoy these simple touches and it was a worthy allocation of your precious time.

"We had a good run, didn't we, my darling?" his deep voice reflects, eyes working to memorize the pattern of freckles peppered across your nose. A lifetime of memories you'd shared together here and in the old world flood back to you; causing a dazzling grin to spread across your face. "I don't regret a single second," you murmur earnestly, your fingers curling into the wispy hairs at the base of his neck inducing a shiver down the man's spine.

Kyuma envelops your flushed cheeks between both hands, thumbs smoothing over the delicate skin before pulling your lips into a blazing kiss. The luscious warmth of his lips against yours never fails to get you worked up, the man standing already nude in front of you not exactly helping your cause. You're quick to deepen the kiss - desperate to feel more of him - tongues tangling erotically and moving with well-practiced vigor.

He pulls away gently to press his forehead to yours, giving you both a moment to catch your breaths. Although you didn't have a ton of time to waste, Kyuma was never one to rush romance with you, his Queen. He cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger to lock eyes with you, "Are you sure you still want this, darling?" Him finally addressing the decision the two of you had made in the days leading up to the game makes heat pool in your core, breath suddenly cut short in your chest. If your team lost, you'd go out together. Literally together.

"Yes, baby. Please," you whisper, words trailing into a whine as the man walks you backwards to one of the thousands of shipping containers surrounding you; heated kisses already making their way down your neck and collarbone. "My title may be disappearing, but you'll always be my Queen. You know that right, baby?" He asks, driving your back into the cold steel wall, ghosting his hands down the silhouette of your frame. Your mind is foggy with lust for your man, his hands squeezing into your hipbones and gracefully lowering himself to his knees at your feet. When you shoot him a confused look, he grins up at you wickedly, "A King should always kneel for his Queen, and I still have two minutes as royalty."

Kyuma's deft fingers hook into your cargo pants and pull them out of his way without hesitation. "Baby," you whimper breathlessly as he glides two fingers easily through your arousal, "We don't have much time for teasing." A glint of mischief shines in his dark eyes, the pad of his thumb distributing your sticky arousal expertly over your throbbing clit. "Relax, my Queen," he hums, settling himself between your thighs easily, "There's plenty of time for me to get a final taste." To properly punctuate his filthy words, Kyuma's tongue flattens to lick a long strip through your dripping folds, lips suckling onto your clit. Uninhibited, you cry out for the man under you, the familiar coil forming in your belly almost immediately as your fingers find purchase in his soft locks.

Your boyfriend hums salaciously - eating you out was easily at the top of his favorite things list - the vibrations sending shockwaves through your system as his middle and ring fingers sink into your fluttering hole. The sensation of your tight pussy squeezing around something makes you wail in pleasure, strength quickly draining out of your legs from the overwhelm. Kyuma notices the way you waver above him, wrapping his free arm up around your waist to hold you against the shipping container, and pulling your legs to rest on his shoulders. Molten heat flows through you like lava as you realize he is fully supporting the weight of your shaking body while still delivering endless pleasure.

It doesn't take much in this vulnerable position, Kyuma's fingers scissoring in and out of your tight cunt and his mouth nursing at your swollen clit. Your orgasm crashes over your body like a suffocating wave, your head falling back against the shipping container with a pleasured cry as your eyes screw shut tight. A sloppy version of Van Gogh's Starry Night dances across your vision, or at least that's what you think you see in your post-orgasmic haze. A gutteral growl pushes past your boyfriend's lips, your pussy gushing forcefully on his face and chest. Kyuma is quick to help you into to his lap while you come down from your high, gently brushing your hair out of your eyes and pressing his lips to your forehead. Gentle as ever, despite fighting against his own desperation.

A great benefit to Kyuma insisting on being naked all the time in Borderland is that you have the pleasure of seeing just how turned on he got from eating your pussy. His perky cock was now red and leaking, standing at attention against his chiseled abdominal muscles. You reach between the two of you to grab onto him, rubbing your fingers along his hardened shaft and spreading his pre-cum liberally.

Shifting forward, you join your swollen lips with his, soft hands jerking his member at a quick tempo. Needy moans are drawn out of the man from your ministrations, you swallowing them as though they were your last meal. In a way, they were. "I need to be inside you now, darling," Kyuma whimpers, not wanting to cum before the two of you are joined once more. His words send a jolt of electricity to your core, a low groan escaping you as he sits against the shipping container. You're quick to adjust your position to fully straddle your boyfriend, guiding his cock through your folds teasingly before impaling yourself on him.

Even after so many times being coupled together just like this, the stretch is incredible; both of you whining at the sensation you'd come to crave. In times of joy, times of sadness, times of frustration, or times of fear - everything was always made right once Kyuma was at home inside you.

Swallowing the suddenly growing lump in your throat, you whisper, "I love you, Kyuma." The man grins against your lips, his cock twitching inside you at your words, "I love you, my Queen. Thank you for the ride of my life."

Wrapping your arms around his neck and searching for your boyfriend's tongue with your own, you set a moderate pace for the two of you. You're both already moaning messes for the other, your pussy soaking his cock as you grind your hips against him. His thumb once again finds the perfect pattern against your swollen clit, bucking his hips up to match your pace thrust for thrust. Incoherent mewls of affirmation dribble from your mouth breathlessly as the pace is quickened and you find yourself charging toward your high once more. Despite your lustful lightheadedness, you realize that Kyuma is trying to time things just right, and that it would soon be time. You nuzzle your face into his neck, sucking your mark into the delicate flesh at his collarbone.

You focus in on the man under you, his porcelain skin coated in a sparkling sheen of sweat, eyes staring up at you in awe. Memorizing this moment. The world around you seems to fall away, amplifying the wet sound of Kyuma's cock rutting into you, his balls slapping against your skin sensually. Your hips begin grinding a little more erratically, moans becoming more liberal as the coil inside you threatens to snap. Just a little further. "Cum for me, darling," he pleads, his normally composed voice strained as he restrains himself. A King always makes his Queen cum first. More blinding than even the first orgasm, you wail when Kyuma's cock hits your cervix one final time sending you careening over the edge. Your tight cunt squeezes around him, dragging him over the edge along with you just as the clock hits 00:00.

You didn't think death was so bad after all.

Masterlist

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Everything Tag List: @potato-vagina @28361573 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mocchii-writes @monkey4lifer @trinibadgyal @izzybizzyk

Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of my tag lists! You can specify if there's a character you like or if you want to see everything. Also, my asks and messages are open, PLEASE reach out, I would literally die to interact with you; ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[robin-evry]

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 🐲🐲

A dragon is a magical legendary creature that appears in the folklore of multiple cultures worldwide. Beliefs about dragons vary considerably through regions, but dragons in Western cultures since the High Middle Ages have often been depicted as winged, horned, and capable of breathing fire. 

Ps : this headcanon has a lot of references to dungeon meshi my new favorite anime

( English is not my first language )

since dragons are one of my favorite mythical beings and the world has their own version of the dragons in their own culture, I'm planning on making two or more of different types of dragon!yuu head Canon and so I'll be starting with the western style dragons.

I imagine they have 3 forms of transformations.

( the first : human form ) one is basically their human form, the form where they usually interact with people. But some of their dragon features would still appear like their tail and horns

( the second : chimera form ) is basically basically their human form as the upper body while their dragon forms as the lower body with 2 pairs of large wings.

( third one : dragon form ) is just their full dragon form

The second form would be 11 meters. and the third form would be 30 meters. Depends on you guys headcanon, dragon!yuu could have feathers or not, you guys can add in your own unique features on them, I also imagine them being able to use magic and having some sort of healing factors

First scenario : basically dragon!Yuu were confused about where they were and their first instinct is to attack because they might get captured and so it leads to a dragon!yuu vs multiple students and staff, trying to detain them or calm them down. After a while they manage to calm them down.

Second scenario : they appear the same way in the game, in the coffin and when grim was setting the school on fire, dragon!yuu manage to save multiple students from the fire and cast a spell to stop the fire.

when fighting the overblots, I imagine them fighting in their chimera form and by flying to the sky opponent in hand and then crushing down their opponents to the ground, very effective or not they might use their tail to launch their opponent backwards and then cast a spell on them. But don't worry when the battle is down, dragon!yuu will heal the injured characters using recovery magic or ressuraction magic to heal damages That might be permanent.

Malleus and dragon!yuu would definitely build a connection with each other, both of them came from dragon descendants. They would definitely have a deep relationship with each other whenever or not it's platonic or something romantic depends on you guys.

imagine dragon!yuu has a habit of hoarding things they might think is precious, I imagine dragon!Yuu shows it off to people that are the closest to them with so much pride.

Dragon!yuu would also have a large appetite, they can eat an entire cafeteria worth of foods in one day without troubles but they have to suppress their appetite to make sure most of the students get some food. So they usually go hunting for food in the forest or somewhere else. They also have a strong digestive system to the point it can withstand Lilia cooking without troubles and also with a little help with their healing factor abilities.

[hoiststowline]

sunstreaker x reader

[tw//: mentions of injury]

The silence is overrun by the slamming of the exterior door, the panel crunching against the wall in an impatient manner. Suddenly terrified, you jump to attention, as the noise echos down the corridor. It isn't what you initially expected, but a fear forms in the pit of your stomach and crawls up to your throat, evoking a gasp of surprise.

A boisterous return was typical with the result of some sort of victory, but that depended on who, as well as the current state of affairs. While you had been taught that even the smallest success deserved celebrations, this was unlike any arrival you've ever borne witness to, incomparable to a triumph. This was the exact opposite, a deafening quiet aside from a sporadic shuffle of steps, a sound that overpowers the dread to ask what's going on, or what happened.

Heavy footfalls become increasingly sparse as if the mech in question could not keep balance, sluggish in stride. In a frenzied scramble, you can't quite make it to the floor fast enough, only halfway across the metal flooring before the interior panel hisses over.

After the bot on the other side punches the keypad, there stood Sunstreaker, about a yard between the two of you, one hand splayed across his lower abdomen as if to hold the energon in. His unoccupied hand would hold most of his weight up, grabbing the doorframe so tightly he'd warped the metal, unconcerned by his grip.

Eyes now jumped wide, you struggle to find a question to ask that isn't insensitive or downright counterproductive. The yellow mech hauls himself into the room, and with such an erratic movement, more lifeforce spills from his wound, a grunt leaving his saturated lips.

"Ratchet." He finally addresses you after a hasty scan of the empty command center, a flare of more annoyance than usual.

"Isn't here," You squeak, palms raised frantically as if it would help, and before you can even offer he rasps another name.

"Hoist." More urgent, staring you down as you catch his knees begin to buckle, anger brewing in exchange as to why you're just standing there and not getting help.

With a brave step forward, you swallow the horror that was wrapped around your throat like a vice and get your point across in one sentence. "Nobody is here, I can call-"

"No time," Casting the undeserved frustration aside, Sunstreaker ultimately collapses to his knees before propping his upper body against the nearest wall. A shaky ex-vent escapes him, helm tilting backward until it hits the metal, words stumbled and partially warbled. "Ever...use a blow torch?"

"What?!" Most definitely not helping, you can't help the exasperation that filters into your reply. It only takes three long seconds to realize he is serious, a softer look in his optics as he looks down your way with stuttering cogs. "No, I most certainly have not!"

"Gonna learn today." He laughs, spits of magenta exuding down his chin at the action.

Even at that sight, you balk at the suggestion, unimpressed by his stupid question. "Sunstreaker, I'll do more damage before I even get close to helping you."

“Either you use a blow torch,” He wheezes. “Or I offline here. Make up your...mind, but do it quickly."

Sunstreaker watches you disappear around the corner without another word, gait hurried yet he can't quite focus, optics shuttering far too frequently. It could have been minutes or hours before you returned, yet he comes to life once more at the clicking noise of the blow torch.

"You better stay awake," You grumble, walking around the pooling energon on the floor. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Words m'sure every...patient wants to hear," Sunstreaker grumbles, uncharacteristically pensive.

Nonetheless, he carefully walks you through what was injured and what you needed to bind back together. You are silent the entire time, patiently waiting for instruction after each step was completed. If he trailed off or his words slurred, you would smack at his chassis to bring his attention back to reality. Recharge sounded so good, but if he was being entirely honest with himself anything sounded better than surviving this pain while conscious.

Briefly, it crosses his processor if he's finally asked too much of you, done enough damage to your relationship that its become irreparable. Sunstreaker had come to terms a while ago with the fact that his relationship with you had been in a rough patch for far too long, and he had done nothing to fix it. Perhaps he didn't go out of his way to display that he really did like you and your company, but he was never the best at articulating that vocally.

"You better have Hoist or Ratchet look at this when they get back," You mumble, taking a step rearward to gauge your work. It's somewhat crude and nowhere near professional, but the energon stopped dribbling from the wound and that was enough to satisfy you. It seemingly pleased Sunstreaker as well, evidently, as he released the tension from his frame with a single exhale.

"Thank you." He huffs, concerned that he misses your warm touch to his plating. It was almost comforting, though the feeling was sparse as consciousness slipped through is digits.

"Good enough?" You press, acknowledging his 'thank you' with the simple raise of your brow.

"I'll live." Sunstreaker confirms, looking down your way with a half-lidded exhausted stare.

It's none of your business, but since he was half-lucid you pressed your luck. "What were you doing?"

"I won't subject you to that."

Taking that as your cue to leave him be and try to get him some real help, you pivot off one foot to walk away. Not getting very far, something weakly pinches the fabric of your sweatshirt, wordlessly pleading you to stay.

"Ratchet just comm'd he's on his way back." It's rushed, and even as you try to spin to address him, his slack won't loosen on your sweatshirt. "Stay. Please?"

Sunstreaker makes his own rules, and while most of the time you found yourself toeing, if not crossing his imaginary line, he allowed it. He could make you think that he hated you, and it wouldn't be true, not in the slightest. Surrendering to his vulnerableness was a tremendous feat, but he pushed everything aside and blamed it on his fatigue. Somewhere, somehow, his processor understood that he needed your presence, and was willing to swallow his pride to ask for it.

While still unable to tell if he hated you or not, you could comprehend when someone just didn't want to be alone. You'd like to think the two of you were friends, but if you ever brought it up, he'd scoff and roll his optics, shutting down the idea faster than the hurt it caused arrived. Perhaps it was for show, maybe it wasn't- but you were in no position to deny his request with how simple it was.

"Okay." You nod, moving around to his uninjured side to settle next to him on the floor, knees drawn to your chest. Now tucked beneath his arm, you sit in silence once more, the only sound is his inner systems humming in attempts to get him to cool down.

[happy74827]

And… Action?

[Colt Seavers x Actress!Reader]

Synopsis: In which a minor… stunt caused the meeting of the stuntman himself who always seemed too busy, too focused, and too far away {GIF Creds: fleursial}

WC: 1121

Category: Mega Fluff, Suggestive Ending?

Why is there still so little of Colt?? I don’t understand it 😭

『••✎••』

It wasn’t unusual for you to find yourself staring at Colt Seavers from across the set. You liked him, liked the mysterious presence he displayed. Sure, half of it was because you never had the courage to approach him, despite how friendly he was with the rest of the cast and crew, but he always seemed so busy. Plus, your character never needed to interact with the stunt crew so you didn’t have a reason to walk across the lot. And even if you had, your scenes wouldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes anyway.

However, when the very last scene of the day was called, everything changed for the better. You were moments away from leaving the set, having already said goodbye to almost everyone else, with the feeling you weren't going to see Seaver ever again.

Until he bumped into you, quite literally.

You let out a surprised gasp, almost dropping your script as you stumbled backward, but a pair of strong hands were quick to steady you by your arms.

"I am so sorry, miss… woah," he said as he looked down at you, taking in your face for the first time, his hands still resting on your upper arms. You felt yourself go red, suddenly unable to look him in the eye and instead opting for looking anywhere but.

"No, no, it was my fault; I should have watched where I was going," you said.

He shook his head and released his hold on you. "You’re… man, you are really beautiful," he said.

"What?" you asked, surprised.

"I mean—uh, you were really beautiful… out there! On set, you know," he corrected himself, and you swore you saw a faint blush form across his cheeks.

You bit your lip and finally found the courage to meet his gaze. "I appreciate the compliment."

"Yeah, no problem. How come I’ve never seen you around here before?" he asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head in curiosity.

That right there… it took everything in you not to melt right then and there. You could see the indentations of his biceps from under his tight-fitted jacket, the arm cross just amplifying them. It didn't help that you also just barely came up to his chest, which, while intimidating, also made him all the more attractive.

You swallowed thickly and averted your eyes. "Well, I never needed a stunt double, so…" you trailed off.

"Yeah, that’s fair. Totally get it, yeah." He clicked his tongue and nodded, looking away momentarily. Before you could turn to see what he was looking at, he squinted, looking back down at you. His hand peeled away from his arm to hover in front of you.

"Colt," he said, extending his hand. "Name's Colt Seavers… I’m kind of a big deal around here. You know, doing car crashing, rope climbing, cliff-diving stuff," he explained with a smirk.

You let out a small, quiet giggle as you reached for his hand, giving it a shake as you stated your own name. His hand was big, rough, and calloused, no doubt from years of hard work and training, but it was warm. A strong grip, but ever so gentle.

"I, uh, do the acting stuff." You repeated his words, and his smirk broke into a smile, one that nearly took your breath away.

It was then, looking at his smile, that you realized the opportunity before you.

You had to say something, had to tell him, and you weren't about to let this opportunity pass.

"I think you're pretty beautiful, too," you said, and that caught his attention, his eyebrows raising.

"You do?"

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod. "Out there… on set, I mean."

He let out a short laugh, his hands moving back to his pockets. He was sort of swaying, almost as if he wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. It was adorable.

Alright, you needed to do something. The fear of letting another moment like this go to waste was far too much. So many guys had slipped through your fingers because of your hesitance—a real shame, too, considering how most of them weren’t even remotely attractive.

But Colt, though…

"Listen, um… maybe I'm jumping the gun here, but would you like to—"

"Yes," his answer was nothing short of immediate. “Absolutely, yes… yeah hundred percent, yeah- yes… yes."

It took him a second, took him a long second, to realize you hadn’t even finished your question. His eyes went wide as fear evidently started to creep in.

"Shit, uh- sorry. Yeah, uh… yeah, I'm listening. You can keep going." He motioned with his hand for you to continue, and you had to suppress a smile.

Well, this is definitely promising.

"Maybe we could hang out sometime? Have dinner or something?" you suggested.

"Dinner, yeah- dinner is good. Dinner is… great. I love dinner. Dinner is, uh… dinner is great," he stammered, and you couldn't help but give him a small laugh, one that was cut off when his eyes went wide yet again.

"Sorry, I'm just… yeah, sorry, I'm just- I'm gonna… hey, can I get your number?" His question was followed by him digging into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone, which was cracked beyond belief. “Not so I can bother you or anything, not that I would- I mean unless you wanted me to bother you, I guess, which- no, sorry. Just, like, text you, I guess, yeah.”

Your eyes went wide at the state of his phone. "How does that even work?"

"I'm a pro. Just a quick swipe to the left and a few presses, and it works fine, see?" He tapped the screen a few times before opening his contacts, and he handed the phone to you. "Here."

"You know what? I'll just put it in my phone if that's okay," you said.

"Oh, yeah, yeah- absolutely," he said, nodding. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable, yeah."

You quickly punched in his numbers and sent a text, a small, simple message. One that escalated to where you were now, weeks after that dinner, his hands roaming your body as he pressed you against the door of your new and current trailer.

You should’ve known you weren’t going to run lines that day.

A stuntman running lines?

Yeah, right. He runs through scenes instead, and… this was definitely a scene.

God, how ready you were for that first take to start.

[@kcisahoe + @adeesthetic] Since you guys asked so nicely, here’s another Colt fic!! There needs to be way more out there because he’s just so… 🤭🤭

For all you Tom lovers out there, don’t worry!! I didn’t forget about you. He’s in the works so I’m praying my work/study schedule aligns with me finishing it 😅

[mischiefmaker615]

Use Me (Loki Love Story) Ch.7

Summary: Loki shows up at your brothel with an offer. What could go wrong?

Requested song inspiration: Use Me by Johnny Blue Skies & Dove Cameron & Diplo

Your hand began to get a little tired- from something that was merely meant to be a tease. To be honest, you almost thought he was holding out on purpose because of the sere thrill of the act, let alone enjoying your boldness in the first place. You don’t even remember what had come over you to find yourself in this position.. but you didn’t necessarily hate it either.

 Right now he was continuing with the meeting, almost acting normal unless you really stared at him. his jaw was tight, he took shallow breaths and he spoke slowly when he needed to while he kept his nails digging into his palms on the table. Beautiful..

At first you thought you were losing it- although he remained rock hard, he had composed his voice at one point to be calm and collected when he had to speak for a lengthier amount of time. You almost began pulling your hand back in that case but the moment you had began to even loosen a finger to do so, his hand would secure around yours once more to urge you to keep going. You then discovered he had to use a minor spell on himself for his strained voice and to conceal the few beads of sweat at his temple.

Just a few more minutes had passed before you heard one of the court leaders seem to be wrapping things up. Just for the hell of it, it made you stroke Loki faster, making him twitch a little in his seat before his hand flew to yours, stilling your movements. This time, you knew it was because you almost finished him off right then and there and that had your heart racing fast while he sat with his lips parted and him subtly catching his breath.

‘’we shall continue this in two days time if results don’t begin to finalize-‘’ you hear from the other side of the table and a few scrapes from the chair legs against the floor indicated that people were standing up.

You glance at Loki but found no movement from him while he kept his hand clutching yours, keeping it still on his cock while some of the officials glanced over at him.

‘’my Lord, might you be joining us?”

‘’I will be shortly, I need to finish going over the treaties.’’ He said calmly, his other hand waving a few of the documents in his hand before he set them down with his eyes glued to them, making it seem he was doing just that immediately.

‘’very good my Lord- good day.’’ They bowed, some casting last glances towards you which made you think if some had figured out what was going on under the table.  

Loki also waved a hand towards the guards at the door, silently telling them to leave in which they crossed their fists over their chests with a bow before they to closed the heavy doors behind them.

You both were entirely alone.

Biting your bottom lip, you took a small breath while you felt no movement from Loki and looked over at his still face. ‘’..my prince, I-‘’

Loki’s chair then scraped as well against the floor, even falling backwards with his quick motion of standing up before his hand on yours pulled up and curled so he had it freely to have you up on your feet.

‘’my p-prince-‘’ you stuttered, not exactly sure on what you wanted to say but found yourself being turned around and being bent over against the table- palms flat and your upper body following with his hand holding you down between your shoulder blades.

‘’you wish to play games darling, then I am a more than willing participant’’ he panted, his voice breathy and rasp, indicating he had dropped the spell and you could feel by his desperate movements that he was stroking himself with his free hand.

His other hand left your back briefly before you felt your skirts being flipped up and draped so you had your ass exposed. He hadn’t allowed you panties. You felt an exhale leave his lips at the sight of you, your nails digging into the wood while you willed yourself not to move or speak.

This whole erotic meeting had actually gotten you wet- getting off on the mere sight of him and the surge of power you had received. You knew it wouldn’t necessarily be enough to stop any sort of sting at first if he decided to enter you in one go, but.. it had to happen eventually. This was it right? You knew this had to pay you enough for your goal, all you just had to do was continue being good and take it.

His hand was on your hip, you could hear him stroking himself still with short pants while his other hand gripped your hip. Instinctually you arched your back and readied your cunt for him with your eyes squeezed shut. This was all.. erotic and exciting, dare you say you were eager if this wasn’t all necessarily for getting out of here.

And just when you thought by the grip on your hip he was going to penetrate you, you felt warm liquid on your backline and his slender hand land down on the wood just beside your head- body draped damn nearly over yours while he panted and moaned. Your eyes blinked open, lips parted as if to say anything but no words being said while his other hand gripped the edge of the table and his cock resting just against your ass.

..did he just cum on your backline?

‘’..my.. prince?..’’ you whispered, afraid to even move while you tried to fathom what had just happened. He.. wasn’t going to fuck you?

Drawing in a deep breath, he raised himself up to stand and you could have sworn you had heard him smirk while he pulled your skirts down, leaving the feeling of his cum soaking mildly into your fabric, and some dripping down while you slowly raised yourself against the table. ‘’I will be having dinner delivered in my chambers, you are welcome to meet me there when it is time.’’ He said calmly- almost as if he didn’t just do what he just did.

‘’so.. you’re not going to-‘’

‘’you are free for this afternoon, I have a few things to tend do but will surely be seeking you out when I am free.’’ Loki said casually, a hand on your grip giving slight pressure to where you quickly moved away before his other hand snatched up the paper work he had literally laid you down on.

‘’but-‘’

‘’your envelope will be waiting for you when you return.’’ He said almost quietly, his full height now having your eyes raise while he looked down at you gently, a hand moving to gently run his thumb against your soft cheek before he turned and walked out, his cape flowing in all it’s elegance with his posture and you, left in your simple dress and confusion.

~

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to bathe, let alone find something else to wear while the remanence of Loki’s cum now and again reminded you of it’s whereabouts when you walked. he didn’t tell you do cleanup.. but for reason, you thought it might upset him if you did.

What you did had thrilled you, had you actually wanting him when he had bent you over the table, all because of what you had initiated. It was all incredibly erotic and new, your heart still raced whenever you thought about it. Yet.. the ending wasn’t so much what you expected.

Wasn’t this whole arrangement for you to be his whore? You were slowly getting the idea that he liked more.. romantic based things, as simple as they were, but.. what was he waiting for? It’s not like you’d stop him- hell, you didn’t necessarily find yourself wanting too! Was he waiting for you to try to have sex with him? he seemed to like the whole idea of you taking initiative this afternoon, so why not? Was this the game? The goal? The hint?

You couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh while your face burying in your hands, body tensing with the confusion that spun through your mind and body. What did he want??

You found yourself in the library, but even that place seemed to fail to get your mind off of the matter. No.. off of him! if you dared being honest with yourself, you seemed to get excited with the very thought of him.. no- no no no.. this was a job. He merely wanted pleasure, nothing more, and you wanted out. to leave.. a fresh start away from all this.. you couldn’t possibly live this way all your life..

God damn it!

You turned on your heels and took advantage of the fire in your spirit, making your way all the way back to Loki’s chambers. To your masked embarrassment, the doors were to heavy for you to dramatically swing open by your hands so the guards were quick to open them up with avoided eye contact. Adrenaline was pumping but perhaps not that much for such things..

To your disappointment, Loki wasn’t there. You looked around sharply, your posture holding you up high as if you were one of the royals yourself and not just someone covered in your master’s cum. Where the Hel was he?

With slightly slumped shoulders, you figured he was indeed finishing the documents. Well.. if he wasn’t going to be here yet, you might as well take advantage of your independent wave before he’d come in and try to squash it- but no.. you weren’t going to have it. There had to be some calls you could make.. this was all up to you after all, and if he wanted to leave you in the dark, then you were sure going to try to light a damn candle in all of this!

Huffing to yourself, you disregarded your dirty, simple dress and chose out one of his under shirts for battle. It was to big for you, but at least you had some sort of dignity than going about naked again. You even dared taking a bath, washing yourself until you felt you had enough of the scrubbing and hot water before you dried and dressed. By the time you had almost finished towel drying your hair- sitting yourself on the tub’s edge, you heard the doors open and close in the next room.

He was back!

Tossing the towel aside, you took in a quick breath and knew this was now or never with your confidence coursing through your veins. Yanking the door open, you padded quickly into the room, your steps silenced upon stepping onto the carpet where you found him stopping quickly in his tracks at the sight of you with wide eyes.

It was obvious he was taking you in by the sudden surprise on you wearing one of his under shirts but he didn’t seem necessarily unpleased when you saw that famous smirk tug at his lips. No.. not this time.. ‘’Darling, you look-‘’

‘’why won’t you fuck me?”

Tag List: @comehomecomehometous @trash-panda-kitty @kuroturo @lovinglimerence @kathren1sky-blog @soulpiercing @ildflue-17 @navs-bhat @ririsasaki @allbymyself17 @howl-and-midna-smeltser @blackquartzsstuff

[navi-the-flying-bee]

Echoes of forgotten moon

(A/N): this been in my drafts for soooo long. So i decided to let it free into the wild.

(Story): went out on a mission supposedly to fight a lower-ranked demon that caused trouble in a nearby village, but fate had its own decision

(Warnings): kinda angst. I picked the breathing. Contains Blood but just if you look closely.

The moon hung high, casting a pale glow over the battlefield. You stood at the edge of the clearing, your hair shifting in the breeze, the threads catching the light like the remnants of a dream. Before you, standing still as a statue, was Kokushibo-Upper Moon One. His six haunting eyes locked onto you, unreadable.

You had always heard the legends. The fallen samurai. The twisted brother of the strongest demon slayer. A warrior who had abandoned his humanity for eternity.

Yet… something about him felt painfully familiar.

“You reek of sorrow.”

The words slipped from your lips before you even realized you had spoken them.

Kokushibo's expression did not change, but there was a pause barely noticeable, but enough.

"Sorrow?" His voice was deep, resonant, filled with something unreadable.

You tilted your head, clutching your sword loosely in your hands. You weren’t afraid. Maybe you should have been, but you weren’t.

“Yeah. Not just the kind that festers, but the kind that lingers. Like a dream you don’t want to wake up from.”

Kokushibo frowned. “You speak in riddles.”

You smiled slightly. “I know. I do that a lot."

Kokushibo attacked first. A single motion, faster than thought, sharper than reality. But you were already moving, your Dream Breathing swirling around you, making you seem like a mirage. His blade cut through air, through afterimages, through illusions that barely had time to fade.

"Your movements… they are like a trick of the light."

You flipped backward, your bare feet barely touching the grass. "Maybe they are."

You didn’t try to overwhelm him. You didn’t try to match his strength.

Instead, you weaved between the threads of fate, bending the rules of reality just enough to keep yourself alive.

But Then, You Stopped.

You stood there, in the moonlight, your sword lowered.

Kokushibo hesitated.

“I get it,” you said softly.

The wind stirred between you, carrying the scent of distant wisteria.

“You weren’t meant to be a monster,” you continued. “You wanted to be seen. To be more than someone else’s shadow.”

Silence.

His fingers tightened around his blade. “You do not know me.”

“I know the feeling.”

Kokushibo stared.

Your voice was gentle, but unwavering.

"I grew up being told I wasn’t enough. That I wasn’t strong, that I wasn’t worthy. I’ve fought my whole life not to disappear under someone else’s expectations.”

A pause.

“I think… you did, too.”

For the first time in centuries, Kokushibo felt something stir in his chest.

Something he thought had died long ago.

A memory. A voice. A warmth.

But then

He crushed it.

His blade rose again, not out of anger, but necessity. "Your words are meaningless," he said, but his voice had lost some of its certainty.

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

You had hoped. You had reached. But some nightmares do not fade so easily.

You lifted your sword once more.

"Then let's dream a little longer, shall we?"

As your blades clashed, Kokushibo’s six eyes followed every shift of your movements, dissecting each step, each breath, each illusion. Dream Breathing was unlike anything he had seen before fluid, deceptive, always slipping through his grasp like mist beneath the moonlight.

But there was something else.

Something painfully familiar.

“This footwork…”

You vanished into an afterimage, reappearing behind him, your sword cutting through the air like a crescent of silver light. He blocked, but his mind was elsewhere.

The elegance of your strikes. The curved, sweeping angles. The way your blade sang as it moved.

His grip on his katana tightened.

"This is not merely an illusionary technique…"

You spun away, confused. “Noticed something, did you?”

Kokushibo remained silent, his expression unreadable.

But deep inside, a name echoed in the empty halls of his mind.

Yoriichi.

It wasn’t the same, of course. Your stance lacked the overwhelming presence of the Thirteenth Form, the devastating raw power of Sun Breathing.

And yet-

The way you moved… it was a shadow of the style he once knew.

No, not a shadow.

A dream.

A Fragment of a Forgotten Moon

“Your technique,” he finally spoke, his voice dangerously low. “It is a distortion.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Huh?”

“You carry traces of Moon Breathing.”

You stopped, your breath hitching.

“…I do?”

Kokushibo's gaze bore into you. "You were never taught it, were you?"

You hesitated, then slowly shook your head. "No. I just… made it up, I guess?"

His expression darkened.

"Impossible."

Breathing Styles were not "made up." They were passed down, honed through blood and battle. And yet your movements, your angles, the way you bent reality just slightly out of reach…

It was there.

A diluted, altered, fragmented piece of his own past.

The realization disgusted him.

A descendant of the Tsugikuni line, wielding a technique that-by all logic-should not exist.

“You have no right.”

The weight of his words fell heavy between you.

You furrowed your brows. “No right?”

“You twist a legacy you do not understand. You wield a blade that dances between illusion and truth, yet you know nothing of the history beneath your feet.”

You flinched at his tone.

But then you exhaled.

“…Maybe you’re right.”

Kokushibo stiffened.

“I don’t know the full history. I don’t know what you’ve been through.” Your fingers tightened around your sword. “But I do know this-”

Your eyes locked onto his, unwavering.

“I don’t need permission to exist.”

And with that, you charged once more.

This time, when Kokushibo met your strike, his hands were shaking.

The clash of steel rang out like a bell, a reverberating echo that seemed to pierce through time itself. Kokushibo’s six eyes narrowed, tracking your every move, his once-calm demeanor now disturbed. There was something raw in your strikes. something too real, too dangerous for someone who should’ve been nothing more than a shadow of the past.

Your Dream Breathing twisted the air around you, creating a fog of afterimages that shifted and warped the space between you. You weren’t just fighting-you were dancing, weaving in and out of his range with a beauty that made it difficult to keep track of where you truly were. And each time he thought he had you cornered, you vanished, only to reappear in a new position, a new angle.

Kokushibo’s katana glinted as he struck, his speed and power overwhelming. But you were slippery like mist, like the memories of a fading dream. Every time your blades met, there was a brief moment where the world seemed to bend around you, as if reality itself was questioning what was happening.

Your technique.

It was… a reflection.

It reflected the endless glistening moonlight of his past, but distorted. It was not the relentless force of Moon Breathing; no, it was the elusive beauty of the dreams he could no longer touch.

"You…" His voice dropped to a growl, his frustration mounting. “What are you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you let the air thicken around you, your breath steady as you focused, pulling the shadows around you like a cloak. You felt the weight of your heritage in your blood, the weight of what Kokushibo represented. the legacy of a family shattered, scattered across generations. You felt it in the rhythm of your heart, the deep pulse that connected you to everything lost.

For a moment, you almost understood him. The loneliness, the burden of his twisted past, the pain of knowing that his very existence was a mirror of what could have been.

You struck again. this time without hesitation.

"Dream breathing: third form, Reverie Waltz."

Your blade twisted through the air, creating illusions of countless slashes that seemed to come from every angle. Kokushibo parried, his katana flashing with deadly intent, but the strike didn’t land. You were somewhere else.

And yet, he still felt it.

It was the sensation of being lost in time, lost in a moment of reflection that brought him back to when he was first learning the Moon Breathing. a time when he too had wondered if his power could change the world.

For the briefest instant, Kokushibo felt the weight of his own regret.

And then, the mist cleared.

You reappeared behind him, your blade extended as the shadows of the forest danced in tandem with your movements. In the span of a heartbeat, you delivered a strike, a pure, decisive cut aimed directly at his side.

But Kokushibo moved faster than you anticipated, a sudden flash of moonlight as his sword met yours, the power of his attack slamming into you with force that sent you sprawling back.

You landed gracefully, your breath ragged but determined. You gripped your katana, your gaze unwavering as you met his six eyes.

“You’re right.” You panted, still catching your breath. “I don’t fully understand it. But maybe I don’t need to. All I know is I’m doing my best… for the people I care about.”

For those lost.

Kokushibo’s eyes flickered with something almost human. a fleeting trace of something buried deep.

He stepped forward, his grip on his katana tightening, but before he could strike, something in the air shifted.

It wasn’t just the moonlight.

It was the weight of the moment, the slow realization that you, in your own way, were fighting for something just as real as his struggle, even if you didn’t have the centuries of pain to draw from.

He looked at you, truly looked at you, as if for the first time and saw the fractured reflection of the Tsugikuni bloodline, still holding onto hope despite the darkness of the world.

Kokushibo’s voice, cold and venomous, cut through the silence, but it was quieter now. "You will never be free of it."

You nodded. “Maybe. But I’ll keep trying.”

Your grip on your katana tightened. "I won't let my past control me."

And as the two of you faced off, the dreamlike illusions swirling around you, it was clear neither one of you would ever be the same.

You-unknowingly the reincarnation of a woman from over 400 years ago, a woman Kokushibo once loved. A woman he could never have, because his brother, Yoriichi, loved her too.

Back then, he never said anything. Never acted on his feelings. He watched from the sidelines, suppressing the emotions that shouldn’t have existed, because how could he ever compete with Yoriichi?

And then, he lost everything. His brother, his humanity, the life he could have had.

Fast forward to the present-you exist.

A girl with hauntingly familiar eyes, a voice that echoes something from the past, a presence that stirs ancient, buried feelings he thought had died centuries ago.

At first, he convinces himself it’s coincidence. Just another swordswoman. But then he watches you move your breathing, your stance, the way you carries herself. The way your Dream Breathing mirrors things he used to know.

And then, the final blow-her personality.

It’s different, but too close. Too eerily close to what it once was.

And for the first time in centuries, Kokushibo feels something. A painful, unbearable mix of longing, rage, and sorrow.

Because the universe-fate itself-is cruel.

It has placed you before him once again. Not as his. Not as Yoriichi’s. But as a girl who can never belong to either of them.

And worse-you don’t remember.

You don't know who you used to be. You don't remember him.

And you never will.

The night air was thick with tension, the moon casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. You stood your ground, your lavender-blue blade shimmering like a mirage in the darkness. Across from you, Kokushibo towered, his six haunting eyes fixed on you watching, analyzing, remembering.

For a long moment, neither moved.

Then, the first strike.

Kokushibo's blade extended unnaturally, a crescent arc of Moon Breathing: First Form, Dark Moon, Evening Palace

tearing through the air. You barely had time to react, your instincts screaming.

Dream breathing: second form: Slumbering Mirage.

You flickered out of sight, an afterimage left behind as you dodged. The very ground where you stood was carved apart in a jagged crescent, but you reappeared at his flank faster than he expected.

CLANG!

Your swords met in a blur of violet and deep crimson, sparks flying as you twisted mid-air, your movements fluid, dreamlike. A nightmare given form.

Kokushibo did not underestimate you.

Not after what he had seen. Not after what he felt.

But the way you moved-the unpredictability, the illusions, the seamless way your blade danced-it was too familiar. Like a ghost from centuries past had taken shape before him.

His six eyes narrowed. “Where did you learn that technique?”

You didn’t answer. Not because you was being secretive—but because you didn’t know.

Your Dream Breathing had always felt natural, like something that had existed long before you was even born. As if it had always been waiting for you.

And now, as you fought against him, your instincts screamed at you, like muscle memory from a life you couldn’t remember.

Dream breathing: first form, Midnight Phantasm!

A swirl of shadowed illusions bloomed around you, flickering between reality and deception. Kokushibo’s keen vision caught all of them, yet even he could not predict which was real.

He hesitated.

And for a brief, fleeting second, he saw her-not you, but her.

The woman from the past. The one who never belonged to him.

That hesitation cost him.

You closed the distance, your blade mere inches from his throat.

But Kokushibo was still Upper Moon One. A demon who had lived for centuries, who had perfected the art of combat beyond human limits.

His body twisted unnaturally, his katana curving in an impossible direction-

SLASH!

Pain.

You barely dodged, but a deep gash cut through your shoulder. Your breath hitched, but you refused to stop.

Kokushibo, however, stared at you not in triumph, but in silent conflict.

“Why,” he murmured, his voice like a whisper carried by the wind. “Why do you fight me, when your soul remembers?”

Your breath was ragged. “I don’t-” you clenched her blade. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But he saw it.

The way your body knew his movements before he even made them, that's why you lasted against him this long. The way your breathing felt aligned with something old, something that should have been lost in time.

Even if you didn’t remember. your soul did.

And that made this fight even crueler.

Because in another time, in another life-you would have been his.

But now?

You was just another Demon Slayer, standing against him.

And he was just another demon in your way, a monster

The battle wasn’t over. But Kokushibo knew. this wasn’t a fight he wanted to win.

The battle raged on, but Kokushibo’s heart-or whatever was left of it-was no longer in it.

Your movements were slowing, exhaustion creeping in. Your breathing was uneven, your wounds deep, yet your determination never wavered. You was still fighting. Still standing against him.

And it hurt him more than he expected.

With a flicker of inhuman speed, Kokushibo closed the distance. Ciel barely had time to react-his blade was already there.

SLASH!

A deep cut tore through your side.

Pain erupted, your vision blurring. Your knees buckled, but you refused to fall, gasping for breath as blood soaked your haori.

You looked up expecting another attack, expecting him to finish you off.

But Kokushibo stood still. His six eyes bore into yours, unreadable, but in them, for just a moment, you saw something she didn’t understand.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke.

“Leave.”

Your breath hitched.

What?

You should be dead. A demon like him would never let a slayer go. So why-?

“Why are you sparing me?” you rasped, clutching your side.

Kokushibo didn’t answer. He simply turned away.

He couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t say that seeing you fight, seeing the way your body instinctively moved like hers once did, made something deep inside him ache.

He couldn’t say that even now, after all these centuries, after all the bloodshed, after all the choices that led him to become this-he still couldn’t bring himself to strike you down.

Instead, he left you with nothing but silence.

A silence filled with unspoken truths, with echoes of a past you didn’t remember, and a pain he would never escape.

clutching your wound, watched him disappear into the night.

You should have chased him. should have finished the fight even if it meant death.

But you didn’t.

Because for some reason-you felt like you had already lost something.