#honestly for me right now its not that deep

[thatone-girly]

PRETTY GIRL

Summary: Six months postpartum and Cleo is still insecure about herself. Terry has had enough.

Terry Richmond x Black!OC

18+ Content! || porn with little to no plot, married couple, slight daddy kink, p in v, mentions of postpartum depression, mentions of insecurity

Cleo gasped, the faint sound getting caught in her throat as her nails dug into the meaty flesh of Terry’s arms. Her toes curled tightly as the tremble in her thighs intensified. The constant jabbing and stimulation of her g-spot due to Terry’s deep, digging strokes sent intoxicating waves of pleasure through her body, leaving her looking fucked-out and dick drunk.

Another whine left her swollen, parted lips, eyes rolling back in her head as her knees came together in an attempt to slow Terry’s mid-paced strokes. “Mm-mm…”, he hummed, his right hand moving to smack her thigh. “Open them legs. Let me see that pretty ass pussy.”

He didn’t give her much of a chance to follow his commands before he hooked his huge hands around the back of her knees and pushed them up to her chest. His gaze stayed fixed on her creaming tightness, watching the milky white ring she left grow thinker and larger. “She so pretty…”, he mumbled, “just like you.”

His plump, pink lips wedged between his pearly white teeth as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Look at her.”, he took his right hand off her thigh and cupped his hand around he jaw, forcing her to look at their connected parts. “Look how she’s creamin’ around me.”

Cleo blinked to clear her hazy vision, focusing in on his length moving in and out of her with ease. Seeing first hand the sticky mess she was making made her even wetter, causing her nails to dig deeper into Terry’s arms. “Terryyy…”, Cleo whined, her eyes fluttering closed as her head fell back against the sheets.

Terry, whose hand had moved from her jaw to around her neck, hummed in response. “What’s the matter, mama?”

Breath partially taken from his firm grip on her neck, Cleo released a choked moan as the tremble in her legs intensified. “Talk to me, baby”, Terry mumbled, his grip tightening softly, “tell daddy what’s wrong.”

Cleo whined in response, her walls tightening around him as her toes curled tightly in the air, “y-you’re so deep, baby.”

A cocky grin spread across his face, his bottom lip moving to rest between his teeth once more. He told her this would happen. He told her all it would take was just one more time for him to catch her looking at herself negatively in the mirror, one more time to catch her starving herself to lose weight, one more time for her to talk down on herself. One more time and he was going to do something about it.

He made it clear from the first time she made a comment about her postpartum body that he would not tolerate his wife being insecure about the body that carried their child. But for a while, he did. He knew postpartum depression was a bitch, and he saw it take its ugly toll on Cleo. He hated seeing her so upset about the changes her body had gone through bringing their baby girl into the world, and quite frankly, he didn’t understand. Hell, he loved it.

He loved everything. The way her hair grew, the way her skin became glass, the way stretch marks were visible on her thighs, ass, and stomach. The way her chest grew, hips expanded, and her ass got fatter? Oh, you know he was loving that. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t love it. Honestly, he didn’t want to. One too many negative comments about herself and he had had enough.

He told her the next time she said something negative about herself, he’d fuck the shit out of her. If he couldn’t talk her into feeling beautiful, he would fuck her into feeling beautiful. He made it clear that he would go so deep inside of her that she wouldn’t even remember what she was insecure about.

And she didn’t. She barely even remembered her name right now.

His name seemed to be the only thing she remembered, because in the moment, it was the only thing she could manage to say. Beside the occasional whines, whimpers, and cries, the only thing leaving her mouth was Terry’s name. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Look at me.”, he commanded, his deep green eyes burning into her face. Cleo peeled her eyes open, locking eyes with her husband. They held intense eye contact, the effects over their intimate dance causing butterflies to swarm in Cleo’s stomach. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”

Cleo didn’t have to ask what it was he wanted her to say. He’d been saying it to her since the day they met, and after she had the baby, he said it ten times more. Now he wanted her to say it.

But Cleo didn’t want to say it. She didn’t think it was true.

Noticing her eyes starting to close, Terry smacked her thigh with his free hand while putting more pressure on her throat with the other. “Don’t look away from me, Cleo.”

Cleo yelped at the harsh contact his large hand made to her thigh as her eyes shot open. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”, he repeated, his hips moving in ways that damn near made it impossible for Cleo to keep her eyes open, let alone talk. “Come on, baby…say it for me.”

Despite his pussy-wetting words and leg shaking strokes, Cleo still refused to say it.

Terry said nothing. Instead, he began to retreat from her walls and let go of her neck. Whining from the feel of his exit, Cleo hurriedly reached out to grab his arm. “No, don’t stop! Please, don’t stop, it feels so good!”

At her pleading words, Terry slowly pushed back inside of her. “Well stop playing and tell me what I wanna hear.”

Gasping as he stretched her again, Cleo’s back arched off of the bed as he inched closer and closer to that sweet spot of hers. She knew him and she knew how petty he was. He was purposely avoiding hitting her spot until she said what he wanted her to say.

Burying his head in her neck, Terry peppered kisses along her neck as he mumbled, “Come on, mama. Let me hear you say it.”

Whining as her walls contracted around him, Cleo mumbled, “I’m beautiful.”

“What you say?”, Terry mumbled as his lips pressed repeatedly against the sweet spot on her neck. “I ain’t hear you.”

Cursing under her breath, Cleo fought not to lose her damn mind as she draped an arm over Terry’s neck and both voluntarily and involuntarily raked her nails over his shoulder blade. “I’m beautiful…”, she repeated in her whining tone, her free hand reaching up beside her head to grip the plush pillow. Cleo wanted to slap the shit out of Terry for having her like this. Better yet, she wanted to slap the shit out of herself for pushing him away for so long. Her insecurities kept her from damn near seeing heaven, and damn was she mad about it.

Terry needed to say nothing to let Cleo know her words had been accepted. All he needed to do was push his hips a little bit deeper, and there it was.

Cleo needed to say nothing to let him know that he’d found that spot, because the involuntary bucking of her hips along with the trembling of her legs and gasp of pleasure, Terry knew. His low chuckle of contentment confirmed that as he lifted himself from the crook of her neck to balance himself on his hands and continue to roll his hips in that same pattern. Looking down at his dazed wife, Terry chuckled once more and took his bottom lip between his teeth, asking, “I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?”

Cleo, in her otherworldly pleasure, could only grip the pillow tighter and continue to let her sweet love sounds slip past her parted lips.

Terry could do nothing but admire her when she was like this. Her legs spread all over the bed, hands clenched in the sheets, hair wild as hell. She was a disheveled, sweaty, moaning mess. But still to him, she was the prettiest thing in the world.

He watched as her tired brown eyes rolled back into her head and her head fell back against the bed as she tried not to be too loud and wake their baby girl across the hall. He took a second to let his head fall back and avert his vision to the ceiling from both pleasure and to take a breather, because if he kept watching Cleo, he would get her pretty ass pregnant all over again.

Hearing her whine his name again in that familiar tone, he quickly returned his attention to her. She was close.

“What’s the matter, baby?”, he cooed as he moved his right hand down to her bundle of nerves and used the pad of his thumb to rub slow, sloppy circles, “you gon’ cum for me? hmm?”

Moaning aloud in response to his unexpected touch, Cleo’s hand quickly moved down to his hip in an attempt to halt his movement just for a second so she could get some air back in her damn lungs. “W-wait, T…”, she murmured, fighting to keep her eyes from doing yet another roll inward, but damn did she feel good. Hell, she could barely talk without moaning.

Shaking his head, Terry’s hips continued to move, fighting back against her weak pushes. “Nah”, he mumbled, his thumb continuing its rotation on her pleasure point, “don’t tap out on me now, Cleo. Gimmie that nut. Let me have it.”

And just like that, his wish was her command. “Oh, f-fuck, Terry!” Her volume control was out the window, as was her mind as an orgasm sent from God himself ran its course. His name upon her lips was music to Terry’s ears as he continued his movements, helping her ride out her high.

Motions slowly coming to a halt as her body relaxed, Terry chuckled as he watched her pleasure cost his shaft in creamy coats. Finally being allowed to catch her breath, Cleo’s chest rose and fell at a semi-rapid pace. “Terry…what the fuck?”, she whined as she raised a hand to cover her face.

Chuckling once more, he gently removed her hand from face before peppering kisses all around it. She smiled weakly as he whispered, “You did so good for me, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

With more kisses to her face and her lips, he then murmured, “but I know you got some more in there for me. Gon’ head and turn over.”

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 27 -  Gloves

When Sherlock finally found him, John was standing by a frozen lake in the park, shivering. Sherlock was furious. He had just given John gloves and a scarf for specifically this purpose. Beautiful, warm cashmere, even. John had worn them to dinner but where were they now? He knew that even though it was a new habit for John, he would likely refuse to give Sherlock the satisfaction of being right. He would stand there and freeze to death rather than put them on, or admit he’d forgotten them. But Sherlock wouldn’t argue now. John Watson was clearly in crisis in this moment. Now was not the time.

Sherlock moved slowly closer, finally standing beside him in silence. John was staring across the lake, so Sherlock stood beside him, staring out over the lake too. He didn’t want to disturb John, but he needed to help him. He turned to say something and saw John shivering. He could even hear his teeth chattering. He reached out and put a hand on John's arm and the poor man startled like a wild deer. As if he hadn’t even registered that Sherlock was there yet.

“John…” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed uncomfortably, still deep in thought.

“John.” 

“What, Sherlock?” John finally asked, in an irritated growl.

“You’re angry.”

“No. I’m embarrassed, Sherlock.” John shuffled his feet uncomfortably but still refused to turn and look at his friend. 

“You needn’t be,” Sherlock replied gently. “He seemed… very nice.”

“He’s not. Appearances can be very deceiving,” John snapped.

“Is that… why… you…?” Sherlock hesitated.

“Sherlock.” John’s tone was a firm warning.

“I’m just trying to understand, John. You’re always saying you're—“

“Not gay. I know,” John interrupted, finally crossing his arms across his body.

“So, are all the women… a cover up or…?”

“No. Please, Sherlock,” he pleaded. When Sherlock remained silent, John finally spoke again. “I’m… I suppose I’d be bisexual or some part of that grey area that’s indefinable. If it were anyone’s business. If it needed to be clarified,” he said bitterly. “It’s barely relevant since I don’t really date, do I? Not really. I like sex. Who it’s with is generally not so important, although I tend to fall into more traditional, binary preferences and women are just… easier.”

“But that… there… was a relationship, John. You told me it was a relationship…” Sherlock tried to open the lines of communication.

“An awful one.”

“It mustn’t have been. On the train you said…”

“Sherlock, I really don’t want to go over this. If you must know, we were together in medical school and he was an abusive, manipulative piece of work who lied about what he wanted." John sighed heavily. The weight of the world seemed to be on his shoulders. "And I got away from him… and I won’t ever be in that position again. Alright?”

Sherlock nodded quietly, knowing better than to push any further. They stood for a while in more silence, and John’s eyes teared up. A single tear made its way down his face. He looked at Sherlock with clear embarrassment. The realisation of what had happened finally hitting him.

“Sorry. I just haven’t seen him… since…”

“John, you’re shaking,” Sherlock said, moving slightly closer, wanting to help him now that his walls were finally coming down.

“Well, it’s bloody cold.”

“You never bring your gloves! Honestly,” Sherlock growled.

“I did!" John argued. "Left them in the bloody restaurant, didn't I?” John sighed.

Sherlock stepped forward. “Here,” he said grabbing both of John’s hands in his.

“What are you doing?” John squeaked, suddenly nervous.

“You’re bloody freezing, John!” Sherlock said angrily. “You’ll catch your death out here. You’re always telling me you don’t like the hassle of scarves and gloves and for someone who has such truly terrible fashion sense, I can't fathom why you’re being so fashion conscious about the one thing that might actually stop you dying of hypothermia. And now, you’re freezing your backside off. So let me warm you up, for heavens sake! Not everything has to mean something alright?” he snapped.

John clenched his jaw after the scolding. “Fine.” He held his hands out again and Sherlock stepped closer. 

“Here,” Sherlock said, pulling his scarf off and tying it around John’s neck before he could argue. Then he held John’s hands between his gloved ones. “Stand closer,” he directed.

John flicked him a dubious look.

“I’m not a predator, John. Why do you always behave like I’m going to…”

John shuffled closer in, stopping Sherlock's words. Their hands were now touching and resting against their chests. They had formed a circle of enclosed body heat. They stood in silence, breathing in each other’s air and finally, John’s shivering started to settle.

“Better?” Sherlock asked, his voice calmer now.

John stayed silent for a moment. “Better,” he finally admitted with a nod. “I do really like my scarf and gloves. I think they fell under the table at dinner. They were with my things when we arrived. I’m not used to having them yet. Sorry.”

He looked up at Sherlock, and in that moment, being so close, he felt sure Sherlock would see something. He would know. John really only had one secret left to hide. The secret that could have him out on the street. Sherlock thought John was worried he was a predator, when really, it was the other way around. John was terrified Sherlock would figure out what was in his head. Surely Sherlock wouldn’t appreciate his flatmate harbouring secret feelings for him? And now, here they were, entwined in a park, in the dark, alone. If John didn’t know any better, it would almost be romantic.

When Sherlock finally looked at him, their faces were so close, their eyes boring into each others. It was mesmerising. Their breath was filling the same space, the condensation leaving their mouths like elegant smoke, entwining like lovers in the narrow space between them. It felt incredible. John was definitely warm. rom the very tip of his toes to his eyeballs everything felt bloody warm now. He was on fire for this man. And now he could feel his breathing finally settling to match the pace of his flatmate’s, calming him.

If only he could read the expression on Sherlock’s face right now.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked. John sighed with irritation. “Sherlock…” But still, he looked up at his friend, allowing him the space to talk.

Sherlock went on. “When we met, you were trying to figure me out, and what to expect with me and I was… uncomfortable too.”

“I remember.”

“Well, just so it’s clear... I am gay.” Sherlock admitted. "Non-practising, though."

John scoffed at that. “I already gathered as much,” John said.

“But you said to me… Back then, you said… it was all fine,” Sherlock continued.

“Yes, so?” John frowned.

“Did you really mean it?”

“I did,” John confirmed.

“But… it hasn’t been all fine, has it? Not really. You haven’t been fine with... any of it,” Sherlock said quietly. "And I've been trying to decide if it's me... or just your own thing... or...?"

John sighed. “I want to be comfortable. With myself. I want to be. But I know I’m not. I’m sort of just drifting along, following your lead, Sherlock, if I'm honest. I go where you go. To Belgium if required. And wherever else you need. The rest... the personal stuff... it just stays over at the side in a dumpster fire not being dealt with.” John made sure to look at Sherlock. "It's not you. It's my own mess."

“This is why the case upset you? The man with the… husband?” Sherlock asked.

“He wasted it. He was able to marry that man but it wasn’t even… he was just collecting spouses like they didn’t even matter. It was so wasteful and so unfair…” John said bitterly between clenched teeth. “And some of us…” He couldn’t finish the thought, his eyes tearing up again.

Sherlock frowned. “John—?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sherlock,” he said firmly, a sob escaping from his chest. The humiliation was palpable. “I didn’t want you to know any of that and now…”

Sherlock moved his hands away and grabbed both of John’s shoulders, forcing John to look into his eyes. "John, there's something I've been wanting to..."

“I’m tired Sherlock. Please stop,” he pleaded.

Sherlock had thought he might make his move tonight. Things had been so good and on the way home, he was going to talk to John. Their conversation had seemed comfortable lately and he really thought it might be possible to say something. But now, after this revelation. Alex. Sherlock realised that what had been going on in John's head was not at all what he thought, and now things were way more complicated.

“Let’s just go home,” John said, closing his eyes. Everything had been ruined by the appearance of Alex.

Sherlock's face softened slightly, his hands squeezed John's shoulders ever so slightly in support. “I just wanted to say, it’s all fine, John,” he said, looking deep into John's eyes. “I mean it. Whatever you need. It’s all fine.”

John nodded without a word. His heart hurt. His mind was fried. Was it really all fine? Did Sherlock know? Did he suspect? Or was he just trying to be a supportive friend right now?

“Let’s go back and get your things from the restaurant,” Sherlock said gently. “I don’t want anyone else wearing your posh accessories. They’re yours, and yours alone.” He finally let go of John but left his scarf around John’s neck, in a possessive move. His soft and Sherlock-scented scarf, which would drive John crazy all the way home.

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[fandomfablesunleashed]

Imperfectly Yours

Ace x reader (she/her)

MODERN AU. Christmas movie rom-com vibe. Reader is the daughter of Whitebeard and is shorter than Ace.

This is how I imagine the cover to look like, if anyone's curious

Honestly, I feel like it could use some more work, but I really wanted to put it out here during the Christmas season. I doubt I’ll have more time to work on it soon, so here it is. Happy holidays to those who celebrate! ❤️🎄

English is not my first language

🫶 @captainportgasdace 🫶

Ficmas masterlist

Main masterlist

You stepped out of your car and looked around. While you had grown up in this small town, you hadn't been back for quite some time. The air felt crisp against your face, and it felt almost unreal being back. You took a deep breath in and looked towards the bar across the street. It was a familiar place to you, your dad's pub being as dear to you as your own home.

Without any more hesitation, you began walking across the street towards it, passing by the small shops on the sidewalk. Each one was decorated to match the Christmas season, with colorful lights being strung outside and in the windows. The sight brought a small smile to your face.

Opening the front door, you walked in, the warm air and smell of alcohol and food almost enveloping you entirely. The place was lively with the music and the sounds of multiple people chatting. You even recognized some of them as regulars.

You could faintly hear your dad talking to one customer before he finally looked up and saw you. His face immediately lit up into a big smile.

Your father, Edward Newgate—better known as Whitebeard—was a renowned figure in your small town. His bar, the Moby Dick, was nothing short of legendary, a place where he commanded respect effortlessly while making everyone who walked through its doors feel genuinely welcome.

“Long time no see,” he said, putting down a glass he was wiping on the bar and leaning on it with both hands. 

“Heya, Dad,” you said with a small chuckle. "Sorry, I haven't been back in a while. Things got hectic in the city.”

“You've got your own life going on; can't always be home. Now, give your old man a hug,” he said, stepping out from behind the bar, arms wide open to embrace you.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You’re not that old yet, Dad,” you said with a grin, wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug. He hugged you back tightly.

When you pulled away, your dad patted your shoulder. “Still got plenty of life left in me,” he said with a hearty laugh. Then, turning to the room, he raised his voice joyfully. “My daughter’s home! Let’s celebrate! The next round is on me!”

A loud cheer erupted from the crowd, filling the bar with energy.

“Dad!” you scolded, laughing. “That’s not how you’re supposed to run a business!”

He only laughed harder. “Oh, don’t worry! I can afford to treat them every now and then—especially for an occasion as amazing as this!” Then, turning back to you, he gently guided you toward the bar, pulling out a stool for you before sitting down beside you.  “And how is the city life treating you, sweetie?”

 "It's alright," you said with a small smile. "I'm still working at that company, but things have been a bit hectic there lately. Kind of burned out on the whole thing."

Your dad nodded in understanding and gave you a sympathetic smile. "I hear ya," he said, patting your shoulder. "Work stress can get to everyone. You take some time off for yourself?"

You sighed, resting your cheek on your hand. “That’s the problem, Dad,” you said with a slight pout. “Every time I try to take a break, some new problem pops up, and I get dragged right back in.”

"Sounds stressful," he said. "Sounds like you could really use a break from all that, huh?"

You laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, that’s part of why I decided to come back here,” you admitted with a sheepish grin. "Thought I could take a break from the city and come help you out a bit here."

Your dad’s face lit up with a wide smile. "Well, I'm glad to have the help, honey," he said with a chuckle. "I can never turn away help from my lovely daughter, of course."

Just then, something caught your dad’s attention. He looked past you with a wave. “And don’t worry, you don’t need to worry about me,” he said, with a reassuring smile. “I’ve got some help. Like this young man here.”

He pointed behind you, and you turned around to look. You instantly recognized the man walking into the bar, carrying a couple of boxes in his arms.

Ace.

He had definitely changed since you last saw him. He seemed more mature, his muscles more defined, and he looked even more handsome than before.

Your eyes stayed glued on Ace as he walked over to the bar, set down the boxes with a thud, and looked up to see you and Whitebeard watching him. He looked between the two of you, and a familiar big grin appeared on his face.

“Oh man, you’re back in town!” 

“Ace, hey,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. “Yeah, I’m back for the holidays.”

“Well, damn, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he said, glancing you up and down.

 “Yeah, it has,” you said, trying to ignore just how attractive he looked now. Not that he wasn't good-looking before. “Looks like you got a lot bigger since the last time I was here.”

He chuckled and flexed his arms.  “A lot of lifting and stuff like that—made me bulk up a good amount.”

 “Yeah, I see that,” you said, trying not to stare too much at his toned arms.

“It’s kinda my best feature now,” he joked.

You almost protested his words but stopped yourself. While his muscles and body were obviously impressive, you had always liked his face more than anything. That cocky grin that always got to you, and those freckles…

His freckles used to make him look cute when you were kids, but now they only added to how unfairly handsome he had become. Damn him for growing up so well.

You tried to brush the thoughts away and crossed your arms. “Well, I see you've gotten even more arrogant and smug than before, somehow.”

He let out a barking laugh at your words, that same cocky smirk still on his face. “And you still have those snarky remarks.”

You rolled your eyes as he laughed at your quip but couldn’t help a smile of your own. “Well, you're still easy to taunt.”

Before Ace could come back with a retort, Whitebeard cut both of you off. “You two can flirt later,” he said, a slight smirk playing on his face.

Both you and Ace immediately became flustered and stumbling over denials.

“W-we weren’t—!” Ace protested, glaring at Whitebeard, though the intensity was lost behind his flushed cheeks.

“Sure you weren't,” Whitebeard chuckled, still watching your faces burn. “While you've been busy making a name for yourself in the city,” he said, “Ace here has been a big help around the bar while you were gone.”

Your face was still flushed, but you glanced at Ace at your dad's words, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “You’ve been helping out here?” you asked.

Ace smiled sheepishly, hands shoved into his pockets. “Yeah, after I got back from my travels, and with Sabo and Luffy moving away, I needed something to keep me busy,” he said with a small chuckle. “And Pops was nice enough to let me work here and help him out.”

Whitebeard chuckled and reached over to ruffle Ace's hair, like he was still a kid. “He's definitely a loudmouth, and can be a pain in my ass when he's bored,” he said, and Ace protested, but Whitebeard waved him off. “But he's a good worker and has been a huge help around here.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched the two of them, clearly entertained by Ace’s protests. “I bet he keeps things interesting around here,” you teased, smirking at him, and he stuck his tongue out in response.

Whitebeard chuckled again, letting go of Ace's hair. “He certainly keeps things from getting dull,” he said with a warm smile. “And he gets along with the regulars just fine, which is a plus. and the girls are always all over him,” Whitebeard joked, and Ace’s face turned red at the comment. You laughed, watching his tomato-red face, finding it amusing how easily flustered he was.

“They are not!” Ace argued, looking between the two of you, but the blush on his face made it clear he was lying. 

“Yeah, I bet you're a hit with all the customers,” you remarked, leaning back against the bar with a smirk. “Girls must be swooning all over you every day.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “It's not that bad…”

 “Damn, I hope my presence here doesn’t scare your fan girls away.”

“Fan girls… they are not fan girls! It's not that many!” Ace protested again, trying to cover his embarrassment with annoyance, but the blush on his face betrayed him, making him look like a pouting child. It was kind of adorable.

 “Sure, sure,” you smirked at him. 

“Hey, a customer is a customer,” your dad finally chimed in with a grin. “I’m not about to complain about some extra business—even if it’s just for the chance to ogle him.”

"Pops!" Ace protested again, looking betrayed, while you continued chuckling, enjoying his reaction.

Whitebeard continued to make fun of Ace's protest, clearly reveling in his reaction. Slowly he stood up, his towering figure casting a shadow over the bar. “Since you'll be in town for a while, and you'll be helping out here too, I have a few things for you to keep in mind,” he said as he fixed you with a knowing smile. You rose to your feet as well, nodding toward Ace with a playful smirk.

“Catch you later,” you spoke before following your dad toward the back of the bar.

Whitebeard and you stepped away from the lively clamor of the bar, moving deeper into the quieter, more secluded space. You paid close attention to what your dad had to say, listening as he went over the recent changes and new things that you needed to know for your time here.

You took in all the information given to you, making mental notes of the changes and additions to the bar's operations. You nodded along to his words and asked a few questions to clarify some points, making sure you had everything straight in your head.

While going over the new things in his bar, your dad also took the time to talk about Ace and how much he had helped since he started working here. He spoke highly of Ace's dedication, work ethic, and reliability. He even laughed a little, shaking his head fondly. He clearly liked that boy.  

“And he might even make a good son-in-law one day,” he added, his tone suddenly teasing, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.

“D-dad, that's-!” you stammered, the warmth creeping up your neck. Embarrassment washed over you in waves at your dad's cheeky suggestion.

Whitebeard, always one to enjoy your reactions, couldn't help but laugh at your state. He smirked, glancing between you and Ace, who was hard at work behind the bar. “I’m just saying,” he continued, his grin widening, “you two would be a good match.”

“Dad, that's—I mean… no, I—” The flustered stammer was all you could manage as you tried to find some coherent response to his teasing.

Whitebeard let out another rich laugh at your discomfort, thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. With a sly grin, he gave you a gentle pat on the back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just something to think about,” he said with a wink, clearly relishing your embarrassment as he turned to walk back toward the bar, leaving you baffled. 

Deep down, you couldn’t deny that the idea of being with Ace wasn’t entirely unappealing, even if it felt a little embarrassing to admit. Still, you reminded yourself of the reality. You were leaving for the city soon, while Ace would stay here. Thinking about something that couldn’t happen felt pointless, so you convinced yourself he didn’t feel the same way and decided not to dwell on that anymore.

When the bar finally closed for the night and the customers had left, a few workers and some friends stayed behind, socializing and enjoying themselves a bit more. You lingered as well, chatting and catching up with some of the bar's staff. As you looked around, you spotted Ace in a corner, talking to a few of the other workers.

For a moment, you simply watched him. His laughter rang out warmly, his easygoing charisma drawing the group closer. You admired the way he carried himself, effortlessly connecting with those around him. Finally, gathering your thoughts, you stepped closer and called out to him.

“Hey, Ace,” you said.

Excusing himself from the group, he turned his full attention to you and approached, leaning casually against the wall beside you.

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile growing as he met your gaze. “What's up? Need something?”

You smiled back warmly. “My dad told me how much you've helped out here,” you replied, your voice filled with gratitude. “I just wanted to thank you for everything. I really appreciate it.”

Ace shrugged, brushing off your thanks. “It's no big deal,” he responded. “I was just lending a hand. Besides, it’s nice to keep busy.”

You exhaled softly, your expression tinged with worry. “Honestly, I was a little concerned about how things would go here while I was in the city,” you admitted, guilt creeping into your voice. “I felt bad leaving for so long.”

“Hey, don't worry about it,” he comforted you. “We managed just fine while you were gone. And besides, it’s not like you were slacking off or something. You were working hard and doing your thing.”

You couldn’t help but beam at his reassurance, a small weight lifting off your shoulders. “Yeah, I know. But still… I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about this place and everyone here.”

“You worry too much,” he said, his fond smile making it hard not to feel at ease. “This place is in good hands. We're all doing fine—you don’t need to stress yourself out so much.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admitted, exhaling as some tension left your body.

Ace leaned casually against the wall beside you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with curiosity. “So, how’s city life treating you?”

You chuckled softly, rolling your eyes at his teasing. “Oh, you know, it’s the city,” you replied with an exaggerated shrug. “Hectic, busy, chaotic—exactly what you’d imagine.”

Ace grinned, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his face as he tilted his head slightly. “You always used to complain about how overwhelming the city was when we were younger,” he said, his voice warm and thoughtful. “So, what is it now? Have you grown to like it, or do you still prefer the quiet life?”

His words surprised you, and for a moment, you just stared at him. The fact that he remembered such a small detail about you from years ago struck a chord. “I’m impressed you remembered that,” you answered. “I didn’t think you paid much attention to me back then.”

Ace shrugged, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “Of course I did. I might’ve been a bit of a handful, sure, but I wasn’t blind to everything around me.”

His words left you smiling, warmth blooming in your chest. It was such a simple thing, but the thought that he’d noticed and remembered something about you felt deeply touching.

You decided to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “I wouldn’t say I love the chaos,” you admitted, shaking your head slightly. “But I’ve gotten used to it, I guess. I can handle the hustle and bustle a bit better now...”

“So, you've learned to adapt to the city life, huh? I must say, I'm a little disappointed. You always seemed like more of a small-town type of girl.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or insult?”

“Take it however you like,” he said with a carefree shrug. “I’m just surprised the city hasn’t driven you completely crazy yet.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering whether you should reveal how difficult the city life had been for you. The urge to tell him the truth was there, but a part of you was reluctant, unsure if you wanted to open up about the struggles you’d been facing. You glanced at him, uncertain if you should share your truth.

After a few moments of internal debate, you decided to take the leap. “Actually,” you began, your voice quieter than usual. “If I’m being totally honest, it kind of has driven me crazy. Living there by myself has been… harder than I thought.”

Ace’s expression softened when he heard the vulnerability in your voice. There was surprise in his eyes, but also understanding. He tilted his head slightly, listening more intently now.

“It’s just…” you continued, your voice faltering a little as you spoke. “Living alone, everything feels so chaotic, so overwhelming. I’ve been struggling to adapt, to keep it together on my own. Maybe I’m not cut out for this kind of life.”

You let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking your head at yourself. “It’s ironic,” you said, your words carrying a sense of regret. “I used to dream of escaping this small town, to see something more, to do something different. But now that I’m living in the city, I find myself missing the simplicity and comfort of this place more than ever.”

Ace opened his mouth to respond but paused when you glanced at him, waiting. He thought for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair, his eyes thoughtful. “I get that,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I’ve felt that way a lot during my travels.”

“I missed the familiarity,” he continued, his voice softening. “The comfort of being somewhere you know, with people you care about. That’s partly why I came back.”

You looked at him, your eyes slightly widened. Hearing that he could relate to your struggle made you feel a little less isolated. “Really?” you asked, not even hiding surprise in your tone.  “You actually missed this place, even while you were out there seeing all sorts of different places?”

“Yeah, I did,” he nodded. “There were moments when I was far away, when the road stretched on and on, that I found myself missing this small town. The people, the way everything felt familiar… After a while, the constant moving, the not having a place to call my own, it started to wear me down, I guess.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you found yourself relating more than you expected. You had always seen Ace as someone who thrived on adventure, always moving, never tied down. Hearing him say that even he missed the comfort of stability gave you a strange sense of connection. 

“So, that’s why you came back?” 

Ace’s smile widened slightly at your question, and he gave a casual shrug, though there was something deeper behind it. “Partly,” he replied, his voice carrying a thoughtful tone. He paused for a moment, as if weighing something.

“Partly?” you pressed, your tone a little more insistent, urging him to share more. “What was the other reason?”

Just as Ace opened his mouth to respond, the sound of Whitebeard’s booming voice echoed through the bar, cutting your conversation short. “It’s getting late,” Whitebeard announced, his voice carrying authority. “Time to close up and head out.”

You and Ace exchanged a look, the moment slipping away too quickly. You both knew there wasn’t enough time to continue your conversation now. You let out a small sigh, your curiosity still swirling inside you, left unsatisfied. There was something in Ace’s eyes, something he hadn’t shared yet, and you found yourself wondering if you’d ever get to hear it.

You wiped the last of the spilled beer from the counter with a rag, your eyes scanning the empty bar. The clinking of glassware and the muted hum of the old jukebox had faded into silence, signaling the end of another long night. You'd been home for a few days now, back in the sleepy town where you’d grown up, and the quiet had started to finally feel familiar.

You sighed as you stood up from the counter, glancing at the clock. The bar’s last patrons had left hours ago, and it was finally time to close. Just as you moved toward the back to grab the cleaning supplies, the door swung open again, the sound of the bell jingling.

“Hey. You still here?” Ace’s voice called out, playful as ever.

You turned and saw him standing in the doorway, his jacket slung over one shoulder, the familiar grin on his face. You couldn’t suppress a smile. Ace D. Portgas. The same as ever. He'd always had a way of showing up at just the right time, or maybe it was more like the wrong time, depending on how you looked at it.

“Of course I’m still here,” you replied, setting the rag down. “You don’t think I intended to leave without cleaning up, do you?”

Ace chuckled, walking into the bar like it was his second home—because, in a way, it kind of was. Whitebeard saw Ace as part of the family, after all, and he reminded you about that far too much, hinting how much he would love for it to be official.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve got your work ethic and all that, but c'mon, take a break. You’ve been at this all night.”

You shook your head, laughing. “I’m fine. You know how it is, Ace. People come in, they want to drink, and we keep it running. Besides, someone has to make sure Dad doesn’t overdo it on his own.”

“You know, it’s not your job to babysit him.”

You shrugged, leaning against the bar yourself. “Someone has to.”

Ace just rolled his eyes and started to help out. You were still surprised why he showed up here now, but you weren't to question him, especially when he was helping you out. 

“You seen the festival yet?” Ace asked you suddenly.

“Festival?”

“The Winter Starlight Festival,” he clarified. “It’s a big deal around here. You must remember that.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning on the counter again. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been… busy with, you know, running the bar and getting back into the swing of things. I’m sure it’s the same old thing.”

Ace’s grin widened. “No way. You have to see it. It’s part of the charm. You grew up here, you can’t skip it now that you’re back.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I wasn’t exactly planning on reliving my childhood.”

But Ace wasn’t deterred. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, and looked at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye. “Well, too bad. You’re coming with me tomorrow night, no excuses. I’ll drag you if I have to.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed, your smile softening. “Fine. But only because you’re not going to let me hear the end of it if I don’t.”

Ace straightened up, looking pleased with himself. “I knew you’d come around. It’s going to be great. You’ll see.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes again, but there was warmth in your chest you hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, you could use a little more of the charm this town had to offer—and a little less of the city hustle that still clung to you.

When you went to the festival, the night came alive with the vibrant hum of the winter festivities. Lanterns were strung across the town square, casting a warm, golden glow over the snow-dusted ground.

You pulled your scarf tighter against the sharp winter chill, glancing at Ace beside you. His grin was as bright as the lights surrounding them, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold—or maybe from the excitement. He was holding two steaming cups of hot wine, one of which he handed to you.

“Here, this’ll warm you up,” he said with a wink.

You took a sip, sighing at the way the spiced drink thawed your insides. “I almost forgot how charming this festival is.”

“Almost?” Ace raised an eyebrow, mock-offended. “Come on, this is the highlight of the year!”

You laughed, bumping your shoulder against his. “Maybe. What’s next, the snowball fight tournament?”

Ace smirked, shaking his head. “You wish. I signed us up for the partner’s sled race.”

Your eyes widened. “You what?”

Before you could protest, the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, calling for participants to gather at the starting line. Ace grabbed your free hand, tugging you toward the race area.

“Oh, come on,” he said, his voice laced with mischief. “You’re not afraid of a little friendly competition, are you?”

The sleds were lined up at the top of a hill, each designed for two people. You groaned when you saw the steep slope and the sharp twists in the track.

“This was your idea of fun?” you asked, glaring at Ace. He only grinned wider.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got the steering, and you’ve got… uh… balance.”

“That doesn’t sound like an equal division of labor!”

“Relax,” Ace said, climbing into the sled and patting the space behind him. “I promise I won’t get us killed.”

Grumbling under your breath, you settled behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’d better not.”

When the whistle blew, the sleds shot forward down the hill, the crisp wind biting at your face. Your initial scream of protest quickly turned into laughter as Ace expertly navigated the twists and turns, leaning into each curve with practiced ease. You gripped him tighter when they hit a jump, the sled briefly airborne before landing smoothly.

By the time you crossed the finish line, you were both breathless, laughing, and covered in snowflakes that clung to your hair and clothes. You didn’t win, but it hardly seemed to matter.

“See?” Ace said, his eyes sparkling. “Told you it’d be fun.”

You shook your head, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you’re stuck with me for the rest of the festival,” he replied, offering you his hand to help you up.

As the evening wore on, you both wandered between the booths, sampling festival treats and watching the performers. But it wasn’t just the music or the festivities that kept you there. You couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the amount of hot beverages you’d consumed.

You were starting to realize that the small, quiet moments with Ace—no matter how absurd—were the best part of being home.

The next day, you dedicated your time to transforming the bar into a Christmas spectacle. You adorned the space with festive decorations, creating a cozy and merry atmosphere. Garlands and tinsel hung from every available surface, while Christmas trinkets and baubles were strategically placed around the bar.

You were standing on a stool, tying a garland around one of the bar's rafters, when you heard the door creak open. You turned to see Ace walking into the bar.

“Hey, Ace,” you greeted him, a small smile on your face. “Just the person I wanted to see. Would you mind giving me a hand with something?”

Ace raised an eyebrow at your request, a hint of curiosity and amusement in his eyes as he took in the sight of you balancing on the stool with the garland in hand. “Oh?” he said, walking closer to you. “What do you need me to do?”

You chuckled at his response, lowering the garland from the rafter. “I need help with these garlands,” you said, gesturing toward the rest of the undecorated areas of the bar. “They're a bit too high for me to reach. Could you hang them for me?”

Ace looked at the remaining garlands and the high areas of the bar, a cocky grin appearing on his face. “Sure thing,” he said with a smirk. “Step aside, I got this.”

You stepped down from the stool, watching as Ace confidently climbed. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overconfidence. You handed him the garlands and stepped back to watch and guide him if needed.

Ace took the garlands from you, and he hung them with ease, his eyes darting around the bar to ensure everything was perfectly placed. You watched him, a small, impressed smile playing on your lips. You had to admit, Ace was surprisingly good at this unexpected task, and he seemed to be enjoying himself a bit too much.

Ace finished hanging the last of the garlands and stepped down from the stool, a satisfied smile on his face. “There you go,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Perfect placement, if I do say so myself.”

You chuckled at his pride and rolled your eyes playfully. “Yes, you did a great job,” you admitted, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. “You're such a natural at Christmas decorating.”

“What can I say? I'm a man of many talents,”

You folded your arms and looked at him. “Speaking of which,” you said, your tone slightly coy, “do you think you could help me get a Christmas tree for the bar?”

Ace raised an eyebrow, pretending to think for a moment. “A Christmas tree, huh?” he replied, a sly smile spreading across his face. “I suppose I could spare some time to help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you,” you spoke, your voice sincere. “I've been struggling to figure out how to get one all by myself. It's a bit challenging to transport a Christmas tree by myself. And I didn't want to trouble Dad.”

 “I can imagine. Don’t mention it. I’ll help you get the tree. I was thinking of getting one here anyway.”

“Great,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “I really appreciate your help.”

“No problem. I can't have you struggling with Christmas decorating all by yourself. Besides, it'll be fun.”

You smiled at his easygoing attitude, once again noticing how willing he always was to help. “Fun, huh?” you said with a slightly sarcastic tone. “I'm sure hauling a Christmas tree to the bar will be a blast.”

Ace chuckled, his smirk widening. “Hey, any activity can be fun with the right company,” he said, his eyes meeting yours briefly.

You felt a slight flutter in your chest at his words, but quickly pushed it aside.  “Oh, so I'm the right company, huh?” you teased.

Ace shrugged. “Of course,” he said nonchalantly. “Who else would I prefer to spend my time with on a Christmas tree-picking adventure?”

You couldn’t resist a small jab. “One of your fangirls, maybe?”

Ace shook his head, the smirk on his face unwavering. “Nah,” he said, his tone casual. “They're too clingy. I prefer you and your sarcastic remarks.”

A hint of satisfaction and something resembling flattery crept up on you, but you quickly regained your composure. “Better not tell them that.”

 “Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “I don’t need them getting jealous over our little Christmas tree-picking adventure.”

“Oh, I'm sure they would be devastated,”

Ace laughed and pushed himself off the wall. “Let’s go find ourselves a tree.”

As you both turned to head out, you caught a glimpse of the clock hanging on the wall of the bar. It was earlier than you initially thought, and a look of realization crossed your face. You paused for a moment and looked back at him.

“Wait a minute,” you said, furrowing your brow slightly. “Why did you come here so early?”

Ace, already heading towards the door, stopped in his tracks and turned back to you. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence.

You stood there, arms crossed, a skeptical look on your face. “I mean,” you continued, your tone slightly amused. “It’s a lot earlier than you should come in.”

He scratched the back of his head and shrugged casually. “Yeah, I guess I did come in a bit earlier today,” he admitted, trying to maintain his nonchalance.

“Why is that?” you asked, a small, puzzled smile on your face. “What brings you here so early today?”

Ace scratched the back of his head again, his casual demeanor faltering slightly. He looked a little awkward and admitted, “Well, actually, Pops may have mentioned that you were coming in early to decorate the bar. So, I thought I'd pop in and see if you needed any help.”

You were taken aback by his sudden shyness, a rare sight from the usually confident Ace. “Ah, I see,” you said, a soft smile spreading across your face. “So, you came in to offer your assistance, huh?”

 “Yeah, figured I might as well lend a hand if you need it.”

You sensed his slight discomfort and decided to ease the tension. “Well, I did use a hand,” you said, your tone lighthearted. “Especially since you were so good at hanging garlands.”

“Yeah, I do have a talent for decorating.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased. “Now, come on, let’s get that tree, and we’ll see later if you can decorate one as well.”

“Oh, you doubt my tree-decorating abilities? Challenge accepted.”

“Just don’t disappoint me.”

As you walked toward the door, you didn’t notice how Ace mumbled quietly behind you. “I'd never want to disappoint you…”

His voice was soft, barely audible, but he had said it regardless.

Unaware of his whispered words, you continued walking to the door, your mind focused on the upcoming tree-picking adventure. Little did you know the impact of those soft-spoken words that had escaped Ace’s mouth.

After a small drive in Ace's pickup truck, you and Ace reached the tree-hunting spot. The area was filled with rows of Christmas trees of various sizes and species. The smell of pine filled the air, and the trees swayed gently in the cool winter breeze.

You glanced around at the vast array of trees, a touch of awe on your face. “Wow,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “There are so many to choose from!”

Ace stood next to you, his hands in his pockets, scanning the trees with a critical eye. “Yeah, there's quite a selection here.”

You nodded, your eyes darting from tree to tree. “Right,” you agreed, a determined expression on your face. “We need to find one that's just the right size and shape for the bar.”

He chuckled a bit at your determined expression, finding it somewhat endearing. “Don't worry,” he said, a note of amusement in his voice. “I'm sure you will find the perfect one.”

You shot him a quick glare, your determination unwavering. “Oh, I will,” you said, your tone slightly sassy. “I won't settle for anything less than perfection.”

As you surveyed the trees with keen focus, you didn’t notice the subtle shift in Ace’s expression. Your remark about not settling for anything less than perfection seemed to hit him in a way you hadn’t anticipated. His jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, his usual carefree demeanor evaporated.

“Hey, what do you think of this one?” you asked, turning to him and gesturing to a tall, full tree.

Ace blinked, shaking off his thoughts as he glanced at the tree you pointed out. He forced a casual tone. “Looks pretty good,” he said, his voice returning to its usual easygoing cadence. “Should make a nice centerpiece for the bar.”

You studied the tree, your eyes dancing over its lush branches, a pleased smile curling on your lips. “Yeah, I think you're right,” you agreed. “It has the perfect shape and size, plus it's really full and lush. Let’s go get it!”

“Alright then,” he said with a smirk. “Lead the way, Christmas tree connoisseur.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Hey, I just know what I want,” you defended with a small smile. “You haven’t even tried to help me pick a tree.”

“Well, you seemed to have it all under control,” he teased. “I didn’t want to interrupt your quest for perfection.”

The bitter edge that had briefly crept into his voice when he mentioned your search for perfection didn’t go unnoticed by you. You shot him a questioning glance, but before you could ask, the salesman, a jovial middle-aged man, approached with a friendly greeting.

“Are you both here to pick a Christmas tree today?”

You smiled politely at him, momentarily distracted from the conversation. “Yes, we are,” you replied. “We’d like to get this one here.”

The salesman examined the tree you had chosen, nodding approvingly. “Excellent choice,” he said with a grin. “This one will look lovely in your home.”

You opened your mouth to correct him, but before you could speak, Ace quickly interjected with a smirk.

“Yep, she’s got a good eye for these things,” he said, his voice still laced with mockery. “She won’t settle for less than perfection.”

The salesman chuckled, clearly interpreting the playful banter as a sign of affection. “Well, it seems you’ve got yourself a determined partner,” he remarked, nodding at the tree.

You shot Ace a pointed glare, clearly unimpressed by his teasing or the salesman's assumption. But before you could respond, the salesman continued, “Shall I bring it over to checkout for you?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Ace said, his voice casual.

The salesman nodded and walked off to get a tree and arrange the payment. You stood for a moment, your gaze still locked on Ace, not hiding the irritation in your eyes.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You look a bit irritated.”

“I’m not irritated,” you huffed, your tone sharp. “I just don’t appreciate your mockery, that’s all.”

“Oh, come on, I was just teasing,” he said lightly. “Can’t a guy have a little fun?”

You rolled your eyes. “I just don’t understand why you got so hung up on my comment about wanting perfection,”

As soon as the words left your lips, Ace’s playful smirk faltered. His expression hardened, his jaw setting. “Let’s just pay for the tree,” he muttered, his voice more serious.

Without another word, Ace turned and walked toward the salesman, leaving you standing there, your confusion mounting. What had just happened? Your comment about perfection had clearly struck a nerve, but why?

Shaking your head, you let out a quiet sigh and followed him to the salesman. “All set to pay for this beauty?” the man asked.

“Yes, we’re ready,” Ace replied politely, though his voice was a little distant.

You waited silently beside him, your curiosity about Ace’s reaction still nagging at you. You glanced at him briefly, noting how his jaw remained tense, but you said nothing. Not here, not now.

The payment and arrangements for the tree felt like a blur to you. Your mind kept drifting back to that moment—Ace's abrupt shift in mood, his strange reaction to your words about perfection. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was going on, but for now, the Christmas tree was the priority.

“Ugh, can you shift it a bit to the left?” Ace grumbled, his patience wearing thin.

“I'm trying!” you retorted, your voice matching his frustrated tone. “It's not exactly easy when you're stuck holding all the branches.”

“Well, maybe if you had chosen a slightly smaller tree, we wouldn't be struggling like this,” he fired back.

“Oh, like you were any help with choosing,” you shot back, your eyes narrowing. “You just stood there making weird comments.”

“I-”

He was about to spit out a retort, but before he could, you both heard a booming voice come from behind you, “What's all this noise about?”

Turning around, you saw the large figure of your dad approaching, a curious expression on his face.

“Uh, we, um,” you started, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish at being caught bickering. “We're just trying to bring the tree in.”

Whitebeard eyed the large tree you were struggling with and chuckled heartily. “Quite a big one you've got there.” 

Ace shifted his grip on the tree, a hint of embarrassment on his face. “Yeah, it was the only one that fit her standards,” he said, casting a quick glare your way.

You shot him a withering glance in return, not appreciating his comment. Whitebeard let out another hearty chuckle, amused by your banter. “I see,” he said, crossing his arms. “Well, let me give you both a hand, then.”

Both you and Ace accepted the help gratefully, and with his assistance, you finally managed to maneuver the tree through the doorway and into the bar’s main room. Exhausted, you leaned against the bar, taking a moment to catch your breath.

Whitebeard looked over the tree and gave an approving nod. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he said, a satisfied smile on his face. “It’ll make for quite the centerpiece for the bar.”

You nodded in agreement, your earlier irritation with Ace momentarily forgotten. “Yeah, it looks perfect,” you expressed, a slight sense of accomplishment in your voice.

“Looks like you two make a pretty good team, even with the bickering,” he teased, which earned him a small mock-glare from both of you.

 “We manage, don’t we?” Ace said, glancing at you with a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Yes, we do.”

Whitebeard watched the exchange between you two with a knowing smile, not missing the slight tension in the air. Deciding it was time to leave you both be, he patted you both on the backs.

“Well, best leave you both to it then,” he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “I'm sure you've got plenty of decorating ahead of you.”

You both nodded and thanked him for his help, watching as he made his way back toward the back.

“I've got it from here,” you said the moment your dad left you two alone. “You don't have to stay for the decorating part.”

Ace, who had been leaning against the bar, looked a bit surprised at your statement. “No way! I'm helping.”

You were taken aback by his insistence to help, surprised that he was still willing after the previous bickering. But a small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Really? You want to help with decorating?”

Ace pushed himself off the bar and straightened, a smirk on his face. “Of course. Can't let you hog all the fun, can I?”

You chuckled, a feeling of gratitude fluttering in your chest. “Alright then, if you insist,” you said, your tone softer now. “I'm not going to turn down the help.”

Ace chuckled lightly and began rolling up his sleeves. “Let's get started then.”

You nodded and dug through the decorations you had left there earlier, pulling out string lights, tinsel, and various ornaments. Together, you started decorating the tree, hanging the lights, and placing baubles carefully on the branches.

Ace teased you lightly as you worked, making fun of your attention to detail and your need to have everything just so. You rolled your eyes at his comments, but a small smile lingered on your face as you adorned the tree.

Surprisingly, you worked together well, bantering back and forth as you decorated. The tree slowly took shape, lights twinkling and baubles glittering under the glow of the bar's lights. As you stepped back to admire the progress, Ace let out a low whistle.

“Looks like all of your perfectionism wasn’t for nothing,” he said, a hint of teasing in his tone. “This tree looks quite impressive, I must admit.”

You laughed and nudged him lightly, a genuine smile on your face. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

You stopped and looked up at the tree, observing the nearly finished work. “There's only one thing missing,” You turned to Ace, holding up a small star for a tree topper. “Can you grab a chair and place this on top?”

“No need for a chair,” he answered confidently, and before you could respond, he stepped forward and easily picked you up in his arms.

You let out a surprised gasp, your eyes widening as you found yourself being lifted into the air. “Hey, what are you doing?! Put me down!” you protested, even as a small giggle escaped your lips.

 “Don't worry, I've got you,” he assured you, walking closer to the tree. “And I'm not putting you down until this star is properly placed on the tree.”

You grumbled lightly, but your complaints were half-hearted, and you secretly enjoyed the sensation of him carrying you. You reached the tree, and he held you up next to the topmost branch.

“Ready?”

With a bit of a flourish, he lifted you higher, steadying you against the tree trunk. You placed the star at the very top, and he lowered you back down to the ground. A triumphant smile spread across his face as he looked up at the fully decorated tree.

“See? We made it just fine without the chair.”

“Show off.”

As you both looked at each other, you suddenly became aware of your proximity. Your bodies stood mere inches apart, his hands still resting on your waist. The realization sent a small flutter, but neither of you made a move to step away.

Your breath hitched slightly as your eyes met, and you could feel the solid warmth of his hands through the material of your shirt. You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. But rather than stepping back, you remained where you were, strangely aware of every point of contact between you.

Your gaze dropped to his hands on your waist, his long fingers splayed against your sides, and you swallowed again before looking at his face once more. His own eyes flicked down to your mouth, and your lips parted slightly in your shared surprise.

All the playful banter of earlier was gone, and now the silence between you was broken only by the sound of your breaths, mingling together in the small space between you.  Then, as if by some unspoken cue, you both leaned in towards each other simultaneously. 

Your lips were just a breath apart, and just when you thought you would feel his lips on yours, the bar door opened loudly, punctuated with the sound of the bell above it. 

You snapped apart abruptly, both jumping back as if waking up from a dream. The cold air was a cruel blow against your heated skin, and the reality of the situation dawned on you. The spell was broken, and you were left standing there, awkwardly apart and aware of how close you'd come to kissing one another.

You both turned to see who had entered the bar, finding several familiar faces of Whitebeard's friends. A few of them raised eyebrows in surprise at the sudden distance between you two; one of them—Marco—even winked knowingly, but no one mentioned anything out loud. They all came in, chattering away, but neither of you could fully focus on the conversation. Your thoughts were still stuck on that interrupted moment, the memory of how close you'd come to crossing a line burning in your mind.

Soon after, your father joined you, and surveyed the room, his face lit up with approval. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he boomed, making his way over to where you stood. “Looks like you two have been productive.”

A surge of panic bubbled up inside you as you scrambled for something to say, your mind racing through possible responses. What would Ace say? What could you say to brush past this? 

But before your thoughts could spiral out of control, Whitebeard mercifully continued:

“The tree looks splendid. You've done a fine job indeed.” 

You both turned to your dad, doing your best to appear composed, though your racing hearts betrayed you. “Thanks,” you managed, your voice wavering just slightly. “We, uh, got it all done.”

“Yeah,” Ace added, “um, we did.” 

You grimaced internally about how awkward both of you sounded, wondering if your father would figure something out or, worse, comment on it. 

Whitebeard’s sharp eyes flicked between the two of you, a knowing glint in his gaze. A sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he chose not to address it. Instead, he gave you both hearty pats on the back that nearly knocked the breath out of you. “Good work,” he said warmly. “I’m proud of you both.”

You cracked a brief smile in return, though the charged energy from earlier still coursed through you. The memory of how close you had been persisted like a flame refusing to burn out. 

Soon, Whitebeard launched into a conversation about the holiday season and the upcoming celebrations. You nodded along, replying where needed, your words measured and careful. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, your thoughts kept drifting back to Ace. Each time your eyes accidentally met his, a flicker of shared awareness passed between you before you both quickly looked away.

The almost-kiss had changed something—a crackling tension that neither of you knew how to address. You continued interacting with others, keeping with a casual conversation. Yet, beneath it all, your pulse quickened with every stolen glance, the unspoken moment between you refusing to be forgotten.

It was just a few days after the near-kiss accident, and the bar was quieter than usual. The holidays were fast approaching, and you had spent most of the day restocking and preparing for the annual Christmas party Whitebeard hosted at the bar. Yet, your mind kept drifting back to that one moment—the one you couldn’t quite shake.

You could still feel the warmth of his breath as he leaned in just a little too close, the way your heart had skipped in your chest when he looked at you like that. It had felt like the perfect moment… You’d nearly kissed him, but you didn’t. Neither of you had. And neither of you had said a word about it since. It was as though it hadn’t happened at all, like the moment had been a figment of your imagination.

You pretended it didn’t happen, and both of you went back to your routine, working side by side in Whitebeard’s bar, the tension between you buried beneath the normalcy of your lives.

You were just about to step into the back to grab some more supplies when your phone buzzed on the counter. You glanced at the screen. It was a number from work—a colleague from the city you hadn’t spoken to in weeks.

“Hey,” you answered, walking into the back room. "How’s city life? Anything changed?"

His cheerful voice filled the line as you absently scanned the shelves, picking out a few items you’d need later.

“Yeah, it’s been a while! How’ve you been?” You picked up a few things, putting them together for easier access later. “Oh, no, I haven’t had the chance to—wait, what? You want to go on a date?” You paused your action, surprised by his question. 

“I’m flattered, really. But no. I’m not—no, it’s not that. I’m just not interested like that.”

You finished your conversation quickly, grabbed the items you wanted, and headed back to the main room, slipping behind the bar. Ace was there, wiping down the counter with a level of intensity that felt... off. You turned to ask him a question, but the tension radiating from him stopped you. His jaw was set, and the cloth in his hand moved aggressively over the same spot. 

“Hey, everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, clearly trying to avoid eye contact.

You furrowed your brow. “You sure? You’re acting kinda weird.”

Ace let out a short, humorless laugh. “Weird, huh? Like you care?”

That was not the answer you expected. “Come on, what’s up, Ace? You’ve got that look in your eye.”

He stared at you, his eyes narrowing. “That look in my eye?”

“Yeah” you said, crossing your arms and leaning slightly against the bar. "That look. The ‘I’m-a-little-annoyed-but-I-don’t-want-to-tell-you’ look.”

Ace didn’t respond right away, instead shifting his gaze to the empty glasses in front of him. After a long beat, he looked up at you, a bitter edge in his voice. “You know that guy from the city must be perfect for you. He asked you out, didn’t he?”

“Well, yeah… but—”

He cut you off before you could finish. “You’re the city girl, the one with the perfect job, the perfect life. And then there’s me… I’m not that. I have nothing to offer. You wouldn’t want a guy like me. You can’t settle for less than perfect. I was so stupid to believe otherwise.”

Without another word, Ace turned on his heel and stormed out of the bar, the door closing with a sharp bang.

“Hey, kid. You look like you’ve got something heavy on your mind.”

You looked up, surprised to see the concern etched into your father’s weathered face.  You hesitated, fiddling with the rag in your hands before sighing. “It’s nothing, Dad. Just the usual holiday stress.”

The bar was alive with the soft glow of Christmas lights; the smell of spiced cider filled the air, and cheerful decorations hung in every corner. But something was missing. Or more like someone.

Ace was nowhere to be found.

He hadn’t come back, and no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t matter, the truth was unavoidable. The empty space where he should have been felt cruelly obvious, hitting you with an ache that settled in your chest.

Was it too late to fix this?

Your dad's gaze stayed fixed on you, his eyes sharp and perceptive despite the softness of his tone. “Don’t give me that. I know when something’s bothering you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers brushing against the counter as if grounding yourself. “It’s Ace.”

Your father didn’t press for details. He didn’t need to—he already knew. “Ace, huh?” he said with a knowing chuckle. “You two have always had a funny way of dancing around things, but I can tell something’s different now.”

Your shoulders slumped, and you let your gaze drift to the empty stool where Ace usually perched, cracking jokes or lending a hand. “He… said some things. Things that I don’t know how to process… And then he left… And now, I don’t know what to do about it.”

Whitebeard leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms with a thoughtful nod. “Listen, kid. I know you’ve been through a lot in the city. You’ve always carried the weight of everything on your shoulders, always thinking about everyone else first—even your old man. But what about you? What about what you want?”

“Dad, I don’t know what I want. I—”

“You do,” he interrupted gently. “You’ve always known. You’re just scared of admitting it. You’ve always been afraid of choosing the wrong thing, of making the wrong choice, but sometimes—sometimes the right choice is the one that makes you the happiest, not the one that’s safe or easy. And I can see it, kid. Ace is important to you. He’s always been, even when you didn’t want to see it.”

You took a deep breath, your resolve solidifying as you straightened. “Thanks, Dad. I think I know what I need to do.”

His hand landed on your shoulder, heavy and reassuring, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Go get him. I’ll hold down the fort here. And you both better show up for the Christmas party. Happy and disgustingly in love.”

Grabbing your coat, you slipped out of the bar, heading for the small apartment where you knew Ace stayed when he wasn’t on the move. You knocked first, but there was no answer. So, you pushed the door open—just a crack.

“Ace?” you called, stepping inside.

The apartment was lit only in a soft, dim light, the only source a string of flickering Christmas lights wrapped around a tiny tree in the corner.

At first, you didn’t see him, but then your eyes found him—sitting by the window, his back to you, staring out into the snowy night. He didn’t even acknowledge your presence at first.

You swallowed, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves crawling up your spine, but you knew this was something that couldn’t be left unsaid. Not anymore.

“Ace,” you said again, stepping closer. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t move, but his voice—low and heavy with exhaustion—came out before you could continue. “Thought you might show up.” His tone wasn’t angry anymore. It was just… resigned.

“You should’ve waited until the end of that phone conversation. Or at least hear me out later.”

That finally caught his attention. He turned his head slowly, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

But instead of answering him, you asked, “When we talked the first day, you said that missing familiarity was partly the reason for you to come back. What was the other reason?”

Silence.

“Ace,” you pressed gently.

“You,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you, and I was hoping you would come back too.”

“Then why didn’t you just call or text—”

“When I got here, your dad kept talking about how good you felt in the city, and I knew there were better guys there for you than me. And I was right…”

You exhaled, the weight of his words pressing against your chest, but you forced your body to relax. You stepped back, crossing your arms, your heart beating faster. “I turned him down. The guy? I turned him down. I’m not interested in going back to the city with him. I don’t want that.”

Your heart beat a little faster as you met his gaze. You didn't plan on saying this, not like this. But now that the words were coming, you couldn’t stop them.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want perfect, Ace. I have no idea why you ingrained that thought in your brain. I don’t want someone who has it all figured out. I want something that feels real, something that feels safe and comfortable. Something I can count on.”

Ace’s eyes flickered with confusion, but you could see the shift, the moment the words started to sink in. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the final part.

“And what I want…” Your voice softened. “What I want is you.”

“You want me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was full of disbelief.

“Yeah.”

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward, closing the space between you in an instant. Your hands found their place at the back of his neck, pulling him into you as you kissed him—soft, slow, but certain. This time, there was no hesitation.

And at that moment, you realized you didn’t need anything else. You weren’t looking for perfect. You were looking for this—this moment, this connection, this person who had always been there, waiting for you to see what was right in front of you.

[nicxxx5]

posting this because i've been seeing a lot of discorse/strong opinions going around. i also follow people with very conflicting opinions

but genuinely, i don't care more for one or the other on the whole "is mike gay or is he bi" debate. i only care that whatever he ends up identifying as they address the reasoning saying "he never actually liked eleven" or "he liked eleven but it was puppy love/he fell out of love". also he could just be unlabeled and in love with will and that's totally fine!

if you see me reblogging both bi!mike and gay!mike content that's because a. i agree with the reasoning for both/want to help spread the post and b. i'm simply trying to cause chaos 😁😝🤪

[statementlou]

https://www.tumblr.com/louisupdates/754934426217152513/goodbye-faith-in-the-future-world-tour-272024?source=share

did he or did he not lose fans then?

I will answer this because this anon actually brings a concrete question to the table rather than just "hurhur but you're a larrie??" (tell me you can't actually refute any of our points…). Anyway this post shows the decrease in Louis instagram followers between the screenshots taken directly after the release of Faith in the Future in Nov '22, when he changed his bio to promote that album and the tour tickets, and now, when he changed it again to mention the current release. But I'm putting that response under a cut because I'm tired of the actual POINT of all this nonsense getting lost in a sea of made up things people insist are important:

There is no rational argument you can make to say that Louis has less fans now than he did 2, 4, or 6 years ago. You don't need a spreadsheet of details you need to USE YOUR EYES! He has gone from filling theaters to filling arenas and stadiums. His second album made a higher chart position than his first album. His festival has doubled in size EVERY year of its existence. And for that matter: his insta post engagement numbers remain about the same (despite the fact that older posts should have way MORE likes due to having been there longer, even aside from follower counts.) SO WHO FUCKING CARES ABOUT HIS INSTA FOLLOWER NUMBER???? Serious question: what does the word "fans" mean if these things aren't what matters? ALL of this quibbling about what he should do to make things better and people can't even see that THINGS AREN'T BAD.

Anyway to address the specific question- (con't......)

NO- HE DID NOT LOSE FANS. HE LOST SOME INSTA FOLLOWERS. THESE ARE NOT THE SAME THING. As I said above, literally what does it mean to lose fans if that number change coincides with him having higher sales, more audience members, and higher engagement than ever before? Whatever he lost ISN'T FANS. I wouldn't be surprised if a significant factor was something like a bot purge, but also yes: I'm sure a lot of casuals followed him around the time of his big album release and later unfollowed him. That's extremely normal because that's how casual engagement works, and why the definition of fan really matters. Louis and his team understand this and have referenced it repeatedly, talking about how lucky he is to have *us* specifically, to have the kind of dedicated fanbase he has, to have the KIND of fans he does who will allow him to do what HE wants. @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram named the issue of depth vs breadth with regard to fans a long time ago, and pointed out why having DEPTH is so much more important. It's like this- artists who are on top 40 radio have more numbers on things like insta follows, and for a time on sales and tickets. But those aren't FANS- they're people with a casual interest. And as soon as that person isn't being forced in their ears 10x a day, those people lose interest and stop supporting them, stop buying stuff and unfollow, and those artists end up doing the 'opener on the jingle ball' circuit rather than their own tours. One Direction as a whole, and Louis maybe most of all or near to at this point, have something MUCH MORE VALUABLE than that- DEPTH FANS. Louis has fans who will support him even if he takes years to release music, or stops parading around with a pretend girlfriend to stay in the headlines at least once a month, or completely changes his image and genre, and that is UNHEARD OF. It's ASTONISHING and worth SO MUCH MORE. And they get that! THAT is why he always bragging about us, why industry people he works with are always so agog about us, why he will do anything for US- not for randos. He is also growing his breadth- and it's OBVIOUSLY WORKING whatever his follower counts are, but that is always going to be secondary to doing things for THE FANDOM because that is his sustainable business model. That is what keeps him onstage and reaching number one. And not coincidentally, the things they do are also working to grow that- much more valuable- commodity. So the fact that that's exactly what these chuckleheads complain about- that he does things that are just fandom facing or serving rather than everything being aimed at recruiting casual fans- does nothing but betray how completely they, unlike Louis and his team, misunderstand the actual drivers of his (actual, existing, happening) success. Luckily for Louis, he and his team rely on their own data harvesting (they do a LOT of it) and growth metrics (they're off the charts) rather than the smug assumptions of random (mostly quite new to this) fans and the few bitter people leading the complaining about everything Louis does.

[fluxedbuds]

If you want text, kingbdogz on Twitter, the dev who is pretty much in charge and responsible for sculk and the deep dark and the warden, has talked about the sculk various times

But at least from one video about the sculk, the deep dark biome literally comes from the void (so it generates as low as possible in the world) and catalysts are the stomachs of the sculk

(Link to the video I believe is being referenced)

First of all, holy SHIT you should not have told me about this because there's SO MUCH- sculk's visuals being inspired by opals?! are you KIDDING me sculk RULES

Second of all- I Was Right About Everything The Whole Time And None Of You TOLD ME

To be pedantic (because I think it holds huge importance to the lore of it), the deep dark biome itself was described as having an anchor point below bedrock- which doesn't necessarily mean it's *from* the void, just that its intended to be as close to it as possible. Whether or not it comes FROM the void massively affects its intended purpose

GOD it's awesome hearing sculk being confirmed as a living thing though, And further confirmation of the souls-exp correlation. However, the specifics of how its described makes me question whether it was 'created' by the civilization it ultimately destroyed. Language barriers are a factor here, but the fact that its described as 'having found itself' underground makes me think its an organism taken from elsewhere. This WOULD still require external interference, and likely major editing, as we don't see any mirrors of it elsewhere, so it's definitely still at least partially artificial.

The Warden being described as a defense system For the sculk is also interesting- continuing to presume the sculk was created/edited for defense against the End/Void, this would imply the sculk Itself is the defense, instead of merely being the infrastructure required to support and transport the Warden as I'd previously assumed. If we assume it was edited rather than created, though, its very possible that my original thoughts were correct, with the Warden being the intended defense, and the sculk simply being brought along as the necessary precondition for using him.

I do also want to quickly note that electricity is a major factor in real-life living things, so the sculk interfacing with redstone isn't Too wild, but the fact that it gives out a strong enough signal to register on devices not specifically designed for that is notable. No other living thing in minecraft can trigger redstone without an additional connecting layer (like an observer) as far as i know! And it's obviously something that was being studied, if not actively used. The main question there is if it naturally had that trait, or it was amplified or introduced artificially

SCULK!!!!!!

[illogicalghost]

.

[doebt]

It’s soooo weird feeling looking at old pics like that used to be my life everyday. and the things i worried and complained and got excited and nervous about were completely different than what they are now..and i just had no idea where i was going. but my life hasnt fallen apart the way i always thought it would and i wish i could go back and tell myself that

[snekdood]

i refuse to let insecure fucks from my home town who are so controlled by their fear of being different make me feel bad or weird existing as i am online. yeah, i did find a place i could express myself freely and people didnt reject me, im sorry you weren’t able to shame me into having 0 friends anywhere, hoping that’d make me become the basic blonde bitch you want me to be

[tonycries]

Sweetener - C.K.

Synopsis. You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Choso, heats, best-friends-to-lovers, pining, creampíes, bréeding, Choso goes FÉRAL, OMÉGAVERSE AU, overstím, knots, MARATHONS, making him cúm blanks, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, first times (Choso), pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem), proposals, p talking, pet names, swéaring. 

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Open up f’me, beautiful.”

Choso Kamo was approximately four seconds away from kicking down your front door and tearing your apartment down in search of you. Or, at least, he would be if he didn’t know how much you’d huff at him afterwards.

Because it’s not everyday that his precious best friend wakes him up at 3AM with a hazy, six-second call. Mumbling nothing but an adorably sleepy “Cho— come over?” 

So what if Choso had instantly thrown on the first t-shirt he saw and broken about seven traffic violations on his motorbike here? 

“Come on, come on-” he’s hissing underneath his breath. Weight shuffling nervously between his two feet, he raps on your door once more. Twice. Thrice. “D-don’t make me use that spare key again.”

It was a half-threat - really, it was. 

But the louder your answering silence grew, the tighter his fingers curled around his own metallic key. Breathing out a low, “I’m- I’m coming in.” And slowly - ever-so-slowly - he’s cracking your door just an inch open before-

Oh. 

Oh. 

It hits Choso like a wave - hard enough to knock him down onto his knees. 

“What-” he’s gasping, heaving. Words tumbling out drunkenly in rasping ahs! that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even register the bright, blossoming pain sweeping his knees with the way his lungs felt like they were scorching - and Choso just couldn’t get enough. 

It wasn’t a new candle of yours, and Choso already memorized every one of your perfumes for this to be one. This was just so…carnally sweet. 

He was drinking in every drop, every ounce, every waft of that candied air inside your cozy apartment like he couldn’t breathe if it wasn’t that.

And something in the sugary scent makes Choso twitch. 

Oh, shit. 

Hastily swiping away a translucent mess of drool that’d somehow made its home by the rosy corner of his mouth, he’s straining out once more. For his sanity, more than anything. “Beautiful? Anyone home?”

Still no answer. 

Absolutely nothing. 

It takes him a few more sloppy seconds swimming his melty mind to even consider stumbling back up onto his two unsteady feet. Blinking away the bleary film over his gaze, Choso slams! your door shut with the back of his foot - cutting off the heady perfume from emanating into the corridor. 

Noise complaints from your neighbors be damned - he’ll apologize to them all personally later. 

But right now, something about the way that mysterious essence was all his, his, his scratched at such a dangerously primal itch in his brain. 

Shit- what was he even thinking?

Choso was here for you and only you. 

He’s running a jittery few digits through the sweat-dampened valleys of his hair, tugging in a stinging little pull to try and snap some sense back into him. Clearing the strangled mess in his throat, Choso smacks! his palms against his burning cheeks before calling out once more, “I’ll be coming in–”

Because it’s not as if Choso’s never been in here before - he has. Many, many times, in fact. And during every one of those hangouts you’d made it a point to pout about how he should really “let loose” and treat this home as if it was his own, too. 

Honestly, it was hard to feel anything but comfortable after knowing each other for so long - even despite those embarrassing, mushy feelings that he always drowned in around you. 

But that was a conversation for another time. 

And right now, Choso couldn’t even dream of any “comfort” when every step deeper into the saturated cloud of scent made Choso gulp. Every blink had his eyes watering even more - and his pants- fuck- Choso’s biting down on his rawly worried lower lip, eyes flickering anywhere but where he could feel his achy cock stirring. 

Something about this smell was so…hypnotic. 

And if he didn’t know any better then he’d have sworn he was practically floating down that familiar pathway to your bedroom. Feet padding down anxiously along the mahogany-covered floors, it was becoming so much harder and harder to breathe in the fragrant air without getting fucking addicted.  

Or, Choso swallows, one arm balanced on the wall, the other feeling for his thundering pulse. He probably already was. 

But what if you were sick? What if you needed help? Fuck, if he didn’t live every waking moment dancing along to your heartbeat.

That is, when he hears it. That.

Filtering from inside your bedroom…a moan. ”Ch-Choso–”

.

.

.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, forgetting to take your monthly dosage of suppressants - you’d blame it on all the time you’d been spending studying for finals with Choso lately, but you’d never put the fault on your sweet best friend like that.

After all, he was a fellow omega like you at the end of the day. Right? 

“Fuck” You’re scrambling to clasp onto a sodden sweatshirt of his on your bed, nose burying into the slightly sunny vanilla scent. You knew it was wrong to think about him this way, you knew it was made even worse considering his second gender. But- but fuck, if he didn’t have your hands slipping and sliding guiltily down towards the slick-lathered spot between your legs. Concentrated puffs of heat stifling from between your lips, “Ch-Choso–”

Honestly, you wanted him so badly you could reach over for your phone and call-

No, no, no, no - your fatigued eyes flick over to the winking clock by your bedside. 3:26AM.

You couldn’t call him over for help now. Choso was so sweet that he’d probably rush over in his pajamas and rack up a fair few tickets on his motorbike. 

Which was why you preferred to spend your heats without his help - it had been that way since you’d both presented back in high school. 

You’d met Choso after your family had moved to the cutest little suburb in Tokyo, stumbling across the tiny boy-next-door with wide honeypool eyes and a chubby hand that waved shyly your way. Even at the wise old age of eight, you remember thinking how he was so pretty. 

Pretty enough that something your health teacher had taught in your last school clanged throughout your mind - this boy was probably an ah…what was the word? Omega. 

A quiet, comfortable understanding - and it wasn’t something that the two of you never quite had to talk about too in-depth. At least, outside of sneaking the answers to pop quizzes on secondary genders, and giggling when another classmate sauntered to school with a garish bitemark on their neck. 

But, often, you wondered whether you’d ever see Choso with that type of mark. 

He never looked at another alpha - not even another omega, or beta, for that matter. You knew that society was stepping towards a more accepting environment for rather “unconventional” pairings - but Choso Kamo seemed well and firmly intent on rejecting every single one of them. 

Instead, staying by your side. Unpaired. 

Even when he followed you all the way to university - two peas in a pod, so tightly intertwined that most wondered whether you two were mated for life. And he never bothered to disagree - but then again, neither did you.

Even when the years treated him well and he grew so tall, so unfairly attractive. All prettily timid smiles, glinting piercings marrying his ears, and dark, droopy eyes tinged with the slightest kiss of dark eyeliner. Rivalling even the most cocky alphas on your entire campus with his sheer stature and ambience. 

Like he was right now. 

Towering at the very edge of your unlatched bedroom door. 

And only one word registers in your mind - alpha. 

Choso - a Choso that was so utterly real and in the flesh - jumps once those startled syllables spill from your mouth. 

Fuck, you didn’t even realize you said that out loud. 

Not until he’s slamming! one massively spayed-out palm by the side of your doorframe. Shattered pieces of wood crumbling beneath him, you’re unabashedly ogling the flex of his curvaceous biceps. Another hand covering the lower half of his handsome face, Choso rasps. He whines, “You called, m-my omega?”

Oh.

Your entire shivering body bolts upright, like you were being electrified with a thousand voltages of bliss that make your drooling cunt gush. Treacly wafts of pheromones clouding out from you all over again - and the look on Choso’s face is just drunk.

Thick lids so heavy that they were practically falling half-closed, it’s as if his entire body was flushed a prespired red. Lips all ruddied and laminated thinly with spit, his teeth were drawn back into such a wild snarl. 

Like he was about to tear something into bits and it might be you.

So…pretty. 

It almost hurts you to dart your eyes away in an urgent glance at your suspiciously open call log - did you…really call him in your haze? Fuck. 

“Y-you’re-” You swallow a few times - and even then, the words don’t come to you. They can’t. Too stuck on what a delicacy your best friend looked all slumped over by your doorway like he was begging for you. Like he’d crawled all his way to you and would do it all over again. “You’re an alpha, Cho?”

As if you had any doubt now. You could smell the sheer power on him, the thrumming strength threatening to rip through that clingy white undershirt of his. So transparently thin that you could still count every ridge of his washboard abs. And his velvety black boxers hung low-

“Shit-” he gulps. “Yes- fuck! Y-you’re an omega?” 

You can only nod. Brows raising when Choso plants another slam right onto your doorframe, indenting all slender lanes of his digits onto it this time. “And is that…mine?”

With a sudden inhalation, you’re snatching behind that sweatshirt of Choso’s that you’d still been holding. Heart thumping - but there was nothing more to say. What could you say?

Turns out, Choso is the first to break. “L-Let me prove it.”

You’re blinking, squeezing your thighs together at the bittersweet throb. You didn’t know what had your honeyed head reeling more - the sudden reveal of Choso’s secondary gender, or his answer. His sheer need. “Prove it?”

Choso’s head hangs low, chestnut bangs covering his greedy gaze, but you could tell that he was looking at you. Really, really looking at you. 

Words dripping with something you’d never heard of before. Hoarse. Tight. “Can I…can I come in, beautiful?”

You know you should say no to letting him inside your nest - you know it. 

But oh, how it looked like it was taking him every shred of will to keep standing there. To not fucking collapse at the way your gooey pheromones have him spellbound. And he likely would have had it not been for your small, trembling answer, “Yes.”

Choso whimpers - if there was ever a singular moment that would have him crawling back from the afterlife just to re-experience all over again, then it would be this. 

When he feels something in the back of his mind switch.

Senses sharpening almost painfully with one step inside your humid bedroom. Two. 

Until Choso’s stalking so languidly towards you like a predator cornering his prey, foot by foot. He takes his dreamy time prowling towards you - all the way up until your flushed best friend is looming across the foot of the bed.

There’s something vicious in his eyes. Something that has him salivating, “Can- can I?”

You’re breathing out, “Y-yes.”

Slow, sultry fingers unfurl out to draw a steady line along your ankle - he walks. Fingers blazing up your twitchy thighs, up your drenched excuse of shorts, up, up, up to smear that delirious line of your dribble. 

“T-tell me what you want, beautiful.” He pecks an innocent kiss on your forehead, then another to your throat - heaving in your perfumed air. “Anything- I’ll give ya hah- anything.”

His words are low. Hot against your face. 

And just about the only thing you can do is slither your unsteady hands down to toy with the hem of your pants. A sight that makes Choso swallow thickly with a rasping grunt. 

“I want you to…” you’re trailing off. Fingers dipping down to where you haven’t been able to satisfy for hours now. Your inner omega yelling - screaming that nothing was enough, but he might just be. “-touch me here, Cho.”

SWAT!

Instantly, you’re letting off a saccharine mewl at the way your hand is being oh-so-rudely thwacked away by one of Choso’s own. The slight sting throbbing - but not as much as your poor cunt is when meeting his digits. 

Sliding just between your cottony shorts- oh? Choso’s heart stutters. No panties? You really are going to be the death of him. He’s lingering a dewy stroke down your teary slit, honeying his ringed fingers in all your slick juices. 

For a second - just a second.

Lightning-fast, Choso’s trailing away with a slew of spatters left behind, and it makes his skin feel ten times hotter. Ten times dirtier in only the best way.

Even more so when those very digits end up slipping easily into Choso’s mouth. One by one.  Eyes trained darkly on yours, his long pinkish tongue ends up lazily lathering up and down up and down up and down every beaded gleam of your juices.

“Y-you’re so-” your voice cracks embarrassingly - pathetically, in a way that makes every copious ounce of blood in his body sprint south. “-filthy.”

Pulling off with a waterlogged pop! Choso’s tongue probes between his two long fingers, smacking his lips open and shut with the sticky dredges. And you swear you catch a whiff of smugness in his scent. Yet, he’s blushing, “All for you- only for you, my girl.”

And you can’t even complain - you can’t even tease him about the way that just another mere touch up against your feverish pussypound has Choso gasping. Eyes crinkling with something like delight and sheer awe.

Because he’s crashing his mouth into yours, suckling on your lips like his favorite berry lolly-

“Sh-shit-” Choso’s rich tone cracks into shattering lilts, and you can hear him laugh against your lips. Laugh. Humorless and crazed - pure desperation bleeding out with every swash of his intoxicating vanilla scent. “Beautiful— you taste even sweeter than in my ngh- dreams, y’know that?”

No, you didn’t - you didn’t even know that Choso dreamed of you in the first place. 

And you don’t get to pay it any mind because before you know it, the swirling edge of his rounded fingertips tuck just past where your puffy folds were pursing in a ready pucker. Cold metal rings making you gasp.

And Choso’s greedily snuffing out the sound with a sinking bite of his sharpened canines into your wobbly bottom lip. Drinking in every noise from his pretty girl. His pretty girl. 

Cratering dimples notching prettily at the ends of his lipbite, he’s practically begging them out with every slow gyration of his fingertips around and around your peaked clit. Tracing over every tiny ridge and sensitive bundle like he was trying to fucking memorize it. “H-has any other- fuck-” Ringing out a thundering growl at the back of his throat that makes your skin coat in tiny goosebumps. “-has any- other- made you feel this good?”

No no no - your inner omega purrs, and you can practically feel yourself groaning lowly at the back of your throat when you pull away. 

Trying - failing, when Choso’s chasing your kiss-bitten lips like he was hooked. Slurring after the syrupy strings of spit that smear the traces of your mouth, he’s meshing his lips in a dramatic smooch. Again. And again. And again and again-

“L-look how wet ya are…” And it wasn’t even a command, but you can’t help lolling your head down to blink at the way his pale wrist was glistening with all your laminated juices. Musing, “Gonna make ya feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

Two deft fingers pinch your clit. Hard.

“Ah! N-no!” Your spine bends into such a pretty curve off the bed, perfectly in position for Choso to slide his massive palm underneath and massage away your tensely knotted back. Your fingers are trekking up the clamoring hike onto his broad deltoids to feel the droolworthy jolt of his back muscles. Babbling belatedly, “N-no other alpha has made me feel s-so…”

So…what?

Hypnotized? Addicted? Gone?  

But whatever it was, the sight of you being ruined into a few shattered jumbles of limbs is enough to make Choso’s alpha hum. 

Whispering out, “Can I…” And with a steep inhale of the thick surrounding air, he’s gulping. “C-can I-”

Before you’re gracing him with an answer, you’re helping inch those sleep shorts down. Snailing an almost-blasphemous slicked coat that seeps into your skin. He’s twirling his thumb over the remaining excess left behind - not wasting a single drop. 

And it takes only one saturated hit from where your pheromones were the most concentrated - only one shy peak down at your drooling cunt - before Choso can feel his mind shattering. Gasping. 

The top half of his body all but collapsing on top of yours.

It’s not even on purpose the way he flinches at the thick curve of your thumb floating upwards to tenderly glide away the swab of drool that was flooding Choso’s mouth right now. 

His neat brows quirking upwards, heaving chest choppy - you’re so lustily trapped against the bumped-up planes of his pecs. Feeling the rumble of his heated words, “I-I’ve never…” 

Sounding so utterly worn-out already, Choso’s planting a few firm pecks at the corner of your chin. He’d meant for it to reach your lips - but he couldn’t. Too in a trance to even think about it. And as if to make up for it, he’s kissing your neck, the valley of your thighs, your tummy. Every and any inch he hasn’t been blessed with reaching for the past few years. 

Shuffling all the way until he was practically lips to lips with your sloshing pussy, eyeing down directly at the way your sloppy entrance was welcoming him with another fresh bout of clingy slick. Choso heaves in a long breath.

“Been waitin’ a looong time f’you, y’know? Can I make a mess?” Choso’s whining sweetly, greedy gaze still trained firmly downwards. Tenderly rubbing over your glossed-up folds, “Can I m-make you break?” And those grasping begs of his are barely even audible over the sheer squelching resonating from your slobbery pussy. Your jaw falls slack at how they only make Choso nod. “Y-you’re right- s-so right–”

Talking. And before you know it, the filthiest French kiss is being placed right on your cunt. 

He’s not even hesitating, not even easing you into it - because Choso Kamo has waited so long for this. And he was going to have his fill.

“This is what y-you taste like- this good?” Dragging the very pointed tip of his pretty button nose down your plump clit, he’s smushing it in place with a firm kiss at the very edge of your snug hole. “Th-think this cute cunt can take my fuckin’ cock, beautiful?”

So fucking impatient. 

You’re tangling one set of fingers into the stray strands of his hair, bucking up to drag a slow glide down the lower half of his pretty face. 

And, usually, with an alpha you could be expected to be snapped at with a snarling command. An instruction to just stay put. 

But Choso’s only letting his sharp jaw comfy against the silken sheets, head nuzzling drunkenly into your thighs when you’re pushing and pulling him as you please. Leveraging the vice-like grasp on his scalp to drive steady grinds just the way you like it. 

Whining, “Need you so bad, baby–” 

“Yeah- yeah, use me-” Choso snickers around a teasing bite against the fattened edge of one of your pussy lips. Sucking. “R-reach your pretty high on my face, omega- need you to cum all over me till I-I’m dripping.”

Fuck.

Was this really your nervous, sweet best friend? His words were so dirty, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying them. And they almost make you embarrassed. Shying way just an inch-

“Oh- no. No no no-”  His words come buzzing around your clit, and with a final bite of his elongated canines, Choso’s frantic. He’s scrambling. He’s grasping his powerful arms to loop your thighs and dragging you to him like some ragdoll down the protestingly creaky bed. “S’gonna go to waste- can’t- can’t let it.”

And it’s only about then that you’re dredging up the courage to angle your head further downwards - immediately hit with the sinful sight of Choso in heaven between your limp legs. 

His hair a disheveled curtain, eyes narrowed and smudged with eyeliner. Damply bleeding down onto the regal apples of his high cheekbones at the way your meady slick was reaching his blushing cheeks. It masks his coral pink lips, his jaw, his fucking chin. 

So sopping wet that it’s forming a little puddle down below him that Choso could never even imagine being disgusted by. No, in fact, he was disappointed with himself for not lapping it up even sooner. 

Pumpish lips jutting out in a pout, Choso’s pushing away the hair from his eyes sexily. “Wh-why are you runnin’ away- don’t run away, my girl.”

With a slight giggle, you’re veering your scent to tinge with something comforting. And oh, does it do the trick - because Choso’s eyes swoop downwards drunkenly. Almost closed, almost ruined, he’s huffing out a drawled-out mantra of your name, “Lock it.”

“Wh-what?” You’re choking out.

Soft palms massage gently down your legs, wrapping them around the back of his head. “Lock it.”

Oh.

That was a command, and it has your body pulling taut. Every sensory spot all down your skin screaming to obey - yet, this is something you would have done anyway. Ankles tying together, it’s jostling Choso’s hotly open mouth against your pussy so deeply that you wonder whether he doesn’t have to breathe. 

Whether he doesn’t even want to. 

Because your dear best friend looks so satisfied to die right in the heaven between your legs right now. And he would go such an utterly happy man, too. 

Rosy red lips rubbing rawly against your clit, you’re left a puddle of a needy mess when the roughened tastebuds of his tongue swirl in meticulous little circles. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks, your whines can’t even be heard over the most oozy squelches.

“Heheh- she’s talkin’ back ta me-” Choso’s sputtering out peck after peck. In awe. “She’s talking. Th-think she wants ngh- more.”

More. 

More, more, more. 

Choso’s beginning to think that your dripping pussy’s speaking for himself with the way that’s exactly what he wants right now. Teasing the mushy outer lips of your puckered hole with his fat fingerpads, before bullying in. Inside. 

You’re taking him so well - hips careening even further downwards when he’s feeding your greedy cunt with every long inch of his digits. Slow enough that you could count it - just about six, ringed inches all the way to his knuckles. 

Shit- it’s so hot inside, as if your pretty pussy was practically melting around him. Molding to his every shape as Choso’s driveling swirling around in rummaging little stripes down your gummy walls. Slow. Slick. 

Slender cylindrical intrusions that bump up deftly against your battered g-spots. The chilling stretch of his banded metal rings was too much. Your eager cunt is splattering out a pornographic little gush of your sweet, sweet juices all over again at the way he’s teasingly fondling over that magical spot. 

“J-jus’ a little higher, baby–” you’re spewing out. Deprived. 

And oh, Choso’s darkened eyes are practically lighting up. He doesn’t pull away from your bruised clit to answer - not even to breathe before vibrating out a keening, “Here?”

So desperate. 

Even needier than you. 

You’re blinking through large, globular tears that occupy the space behind your lids. Nodding, “A little more- jus- oh!”   

And Choso didn’t need to hear it from your lips. Hell, he didn’t even need to hear it from the way your snug channel was all but milking his fingers dry. Clinging on in a soppy kiss when he’s probing into your g-spot harder. Meaner. Because the way your intoxicating scent changes - concentrating ever-so-slightly makes Choso realize that you’re cumming before even you register it.

Slamming headfirst into your high, you’re plowing out a belated cry of “I- fuck- m’cumming, Cho. M’cumming, m’cumming-”

Sparks of white splinter your vision, and your knees find themselves just wrenching free from the lecherous comforts of the bed - but Choso won’t let you escape so easily. 

No. 

Barely batting an eye, he’s straining his biceps deadlocked around your legs. Pinning you to the bed until you could barely squirm, barely do anything but take his punishing little clashes against your g-spot head-on. Bumping in. Over and over. 

Choso suckles on your clit like his favorite little gummy, stretching and nibbling until you see stars with your orgasm. 

“Don’t run away-” he’s puffing out into your cunt, the very idea of parting with drizzling pussy making him yelp out a pained grunt. “P-please don’t run away- I promised to make a mess. O-one more f’me, beautiful?”

You’re just molten at his touch. Ravenous and overwhelmingly greedy for you as much as you were for him. Something carnal inside you screaming for more-

“H-hear her?” His eyes are drifting closed at the pulpy little noises your cunt mashes on. Dangling ear piercings twinkling when he’s leering even closer to hear. “Tellin’ me she’s gonna give her- hngh- alpha one more.” Fuck, Choso’s features decorate with the most blazing blush at his own words. How embarrassing. “Wontcha use my mouth all over again? I didn’t get fuuuuck- messy ‘nough last time…”

And as if to prove his point, Choso traces a slow glide of his worked tongue across the sloppily wet coating that drips down his lips. Just for a second.

Your veins bubble sensitively with need at the broken whine sounding from the back of Choso’s throat when you drag him even snugger between your legs. Puffs of leaky pheromones driving the two of you wild, making your hips stutter out a slurring pace up and down his face. 

“Th-this pussy is all f’me- isn’t it, my girl? S’all f’me?”

Even sloppier once you battle out a nod.  

Your cunt is extra slobbery because of your heat anyways, but Choso’s making such a mess on purpose. 

Eyes running away to the back of his head, tongue lolling out even messier. He’s planting such dousing draws of saliva, lathering your sweet spots mercilessly. And his fingers- oh, his fingers were relentless. Shovelling up in solid, wet nudges until you’re able to feel every circular indent of his digits on your g-spot. 

Every run of his manicured nails across where you’re sure you were beginning to get bruised. And every-so-often whenever his eyes glaze green with raw greed - with slight, stupid jealousy over his fingers - you’d peek at Choso plunging his digits into his mouth and sucking.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Matching the lecherous sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can feel yourself squeal at the overstimulating touches. Sobbing out the cutest little whines that make Choso chuckle, “Easy– easy there, my girl.” Letting your cunt free with a sodden pwah! only to spit. Once. Twice. A sticky wad of his thick saliva that blusters its way to coat your puffy pussy lips, “You’re cumming again, right? A-all over my face?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard, but that wasn’t enough for Choso Kamo. 

He wasn’t satisfied until a slow pull of your clit right from between his pearly whites had you bawling out. The backs of your hands dipping upwards to hide your face - which he quickly, and calculatedly spanks away with his free hand. “M’gonna cum soon- ngh- please- Cho- don’ stop.”

Hah, if this was any other time then Choso might’ve laughed. 

Might’ve teased you until you were begging for him in that cute voice once more. But maybe it’s the way his alpha was clawing at his chest from the insides to give you whatever you want, maybe it was the way seeing you fall apart on your heat like this all over him had his cock twitching-

Because Choso only smiles - drunk. Dazed. “Cum f’me, p-please. Ruin me, ma’am..”

He was ruined alright. 

Absolutely sugar-coated with your overlaying juices - it’s dripping down his bed and disappearing into the now see-through fabric of his undershirt like a badge of honor. A badge to say that he’s made you cum for the second time on his mouth. 

That he’s made you squirt. 

Splattering out all over his face with every slurping taste - and yet, Choso still couldn’t get enough. Sweeping up the milky droplets, Choso’s boring his heady gaze right into your widened eyes when he’s leering his mouth agape to make you spy the way each splash slides down his throat. 

God- you’re seeing white all over again. You’re seeing spots, having you gulp in necessary gasps of the soiled air to once more regain your steady heartpace. 

“Ch-Choso-” you’re struggling, voice brittle and gone. Frantically trying to haul - to force - Choso from his favorite home between your cunt, to stop his greedy tongue. “S’enough- can’t cum anymore can’t- ngh-”

“But, beautiful–”

Shit- it would be so easy to get swept up all over again. Because Choso was parched, and he was still far from having his fill. 

Words tinting with a slightly commanding tone, you’re making something dark and primal rear its head when you manhandle him upwards with one hand in his locks, and another on his undershirt. So heavy but pliant. 

Up, up, up-

“Choso–” you’re mumbling out. And before you know it, Chosos hands had toppled you over into the cushiony mattress, and yours were tracing the edge of his too-tight boxers. Tugging. Needy. “I-I want these- off-”

“Anything.” He’s echoing, like it was all that he could right about now. Dewey brows scrunching up into something of a beg, you’re catching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Deprived. “Anything f-for you-”

Fuck- in your currently woozy state you’re not sure if Choso removed his pants or if he ripped them off. Stumbling and tripping to let the few scarce tatters droop into the floor in a sullen pile. 

With a gulp, your fingers skitter across the planes of his useless undershirt - letting his pretty, bulging muscles peek out at you from underneath when you slide them off of him. Palms smearing in gluttonous little touches across his push pecs, down his rippling abs, down that lusciously dark happy trail and oh-

“S-something the matter, beautiful?” Choso’s heaving in a struggling gulp at the way your gorgeous eyes widen, maw slacking into a soft oh! Head tilting innocently, “M’your hah- best friend, you can tell me a-anythin’.”

“You’re just so…” Comes the whirling answer, your voice slow and alcoholic. He was getting drunk on your words already. “...big.”

Not only was Choso big - he was massive. 

The fat, rotund circle of his head ruddied a strawberry pink, gradiating all the way down his shaft to meet blend into his creamy base. He was so hard that it looked painful, visibly throb! throb! throbbing, bumpy lightning bolts of his veins hammering up at you cheekily. He was so pretty - thick enough that you’re feeling your cunt clench already. Even the burn of your stare has Choso’s reddish divot weeping out a few ropey spurts of pre. Making you dizzy with the incredible size and that musky vanilla scent of his. 

And was that-

Oh. Fuck.

It was.

Through the honeyed slew of precum pooling at Choso’s thick tip, you’re gasping at the slight wink of something metallic. 

Without thinking - without even breathing - you’re drifting your hand down to thumb those syrupy globules thin. Discovering the absolute treasure chest that was a studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the weepy edge of Choso’s shaft. 

“I got if for- you- Gotta a-another one, y’know-” His gentle rasp jolts you out of your sinful reverie, engulfing hands guiding your own to wrap around his flushed tip and peek under. Right on the slippery sliver of his slit, “A ngh- matching one. Th-thought you might like it…”

Oh- two. 

And, embarrassingly, you can feel the way your scent turns headier. Hypnotizing. Enough so that Choso can’t help the way he’s hanging by a bare thread, head falling into the crook of your neck to breathe in. “Y-you act so innocent but…” 

“But m’only l-like this for you.” He’s tucking your tender earlobe between his teeth. “P-promise. I haven’t even…”

Ah, a virgin. 

Sweet and absolutely gifted. 

And something about it was so cute the way Choso was acting exactly like it. Every wordless toy of your fingers up and down his sensitive glans, making him snarl a lipbite. Girthy length fucking up in shuddering slams into the cushiony tunnel of your palm. Weightily muscled abs flexing with heat when you’re running a thumb under his head to press down on that silver piercing. 

“S-so tiny- heh- your pretty hands are so tiny takin’ my cock, beautiful.” he’s giggling - giggling. Perspiration-simmered forehead knocking into yours, Choso’s letting his tired head loll there and bore into your eyes. “You needa ngh- fuck! Needa slow down, my girl, m’already so close jus’ from making out with yer sweet c-cunt out.” Already close. Just from eating you out. “Else m’n-not gonna be able to control it-”

“I can handle it–” you’re pouting stubbornly. Soft digits clenching even tighter around his cock, and shit, Choso lets his head fall into the junction between your shoulder and your neck. 

Finding himself growing more needy. More feral. Tight, hot curdling in his stomach building up and up.

“M’serious.” His lilting voice breaks, teeth skimming over the pulpy flesh of your sweetened pheromone glands. Nibbling. His incredibly shaky fingers wrap around your shoulders, “Please- ngh- please m’gonna break ya.”

And it’s like you wanted him to.

Dick twitching at those filthy fingers of yours - the way they only pump him faster. And faster. Tighter around the hefty base, more teasing up the slippery slope of his tip - like you were trying to milk out something delicious. 

And you can already feel the way your mouth lathers with a fresh coating of saliva, face inching closer and closer to the bawling peak of his swollen cock. Wanting oh-so-badly to taste the silver of his Prince Albert’s. 

“But I want you to, Cho.”

SMACK!

You’re left stupidly stunned when Choso’s behemoth palm coils like a tight shackle around your tender throat. Pulling you away from his achy cock in a flash, you’re being thrown around like his own personal ragdoll. 

And Choso snickers at the way you’re bouncing cutely on the plush mattress, legs drooping wider and wider agape with every sleazy second he really can’t help but leer over you. Wrangling those boneless legs of yours over his shoulder with a sharp click of his tongue. 

“I-I already told you, beautiful–” he’s bending down, down down to nose along your sweat-dotted cheeks, your skin stark hot against the icy chain of his silver necklace. Chest grumbling with a slight purr. “M’gonna make such a mess of you- can I?”

And that drunken look in Choso’s eyes made him look like he would absolutely shatter if you let your lips shape into a teasing no right about now. Like those warm, salted tears spattering from the corners of his half-lidded eyes and right onto your cheeks would only hasten. 

“Can I- please, my girl- jus’ wanna-” His lips wobble adorably when his sobbing cock glides a slow line between the mushy lips of your pussy. A graze for a graze of his mouth down your own. “-wanna make you mine.”

And just the tip - just a single fat inch shoved into your gummy hole is all it takes for Choso to whimper. 

You’re brushing over his precious cheek, “Ch-Cho, are you okay?”

And Choso can’t answer - hell, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Because that gushing little clench of your clingy walls all around his sodden wet tip absolutely ruins him. Delicate rivulets of slobber streaming down the smiling edges of his tongue, he’s puffing out an open-mouthed, “No- fuck- d-do I look okay?”

He didn’t.

He seemed like he was burning up - fucked-out already, practically. Pecs rippling with a bolting flex, muscled body shirking with violent shivers when with a low keen of your name - Choso’s cumming. 

“No-” he’s crying out, head flailing backwards. Just from putting it inside for the first time. “No no no no- m’not s’pposed to- yet-”

But he was. Hips recklessly meandering again and again into yours - slight, tugging grinds of just his thickened tip like Choso was afraid of sinking into your heavenly pussy anymore. Like he knew it would break him even more. 

Have him flooding out voluminous ribbons of thick seed, splattering against your spongy channel, and smearing around in dripping vertical patterns with every one of his animalistic ruts. 

“Give it t’me–” you’re locking your ankles even tighter. Prattling out such filthy nonsense that you’re sure you’d get embarrassed about had you not been in your heat. “I-I need your cum, baby- wan’ it allll inside me-”

“Ngh-” Choso’s letting off a broken sound at the back of his throat, squeezing your own with that one hand of his happily making its home there. Blocking off your airway, your heady pheromones only struggle to waft out even more. Saturating. “D-don’t talk like that- n-not outta ya pussy, beautiful.”

“But I w-ngh! want it-”

He gulps, “A-are you sure?” Because this is his best friend - this is the one person he’d never even dreamt of having because that was too dangerous. Too fanciful. The one person he’d written about in every diary, and gotten teased for it by his family just the same. Perfect. 

Yet, you’re so stubborn when you’re in heat. “Mhm– wan’ you to…breed me.”

And he loved it.

Couldn’t get enough of it - or you. 

Choso’s scrambling up one of his jostling hands to latch your hips into a perfect almost-semicircle. Lower lip worried underneath his canines when he’s wiping his fat thumb over the dewdrops of seed treacling from your soppy slit. 

That digit finds its way rummaging between your lips, “Lock it.”

This time, you don’t need it said twice - you don’t even need it to be a command.

Because Choso’s reigning up his own hand to pin both your ankles behind his head, and you think you’ll forever remember just how hot he looked this way. Biceps bulging with the strain, simmering with a slick sheen of perspiration, and his hips-

Oh, it’s like any and every slip of restraint in Choso’s hulking body snapped. 

Because with a loud, saturated squelch! you’re being filled up to what it feels like your lungs with every solid inch of his engorged girth. Inflating your tender insides, buttering your poor cervix with a thick stream of pre when he’s kissing it with a wet thwack!

“Oh- oh.” Choso’s head pushes into the crook of your neck, into your pillow until you were sure that it was soaked with tears of absolute bliss. “Th-this feels nothing l-like my ngh- hand. S’so much more heavenly-”

Yet, you weren’t in the right state of mind to be paying attention to the utter filth that was spilling from your innocent best friend’s mouth. Breath choking up in a lead ball in your throat, you whisper, “Ch-Cho…s’that your knot?”

Your slicked-up folds puckering up in a wet snog against the overinflated ring ballooning around his thick base. The sheer thumping circumference of it makes you squeeze-

“Y-yes–” he’s humming out. The sodden base of his cock thwack! thwack! thwacking your bruising entrance when he’s rutting in and out. Sloppy. Slow. Still trying not to see stars. “God- s’even softer than I ngh- imagined.”

And soft you were. 

This is what your sweet pussy felt like? This good? This should be fucking illegal, he was babbling out - but wouldn’t realize until much, much later. 

Being spearheaded open with every unapologetic rifle to fill you up, the leftover dredges of Choso’s seed trickle a slippery pathway leading him to ambush your g-spot head on. Stubbing his cool metal piercing into your sweetened bullseyes so hard, you swear you could feel the indenting divot of that sinful Prince Albert’s.

“There?” Mesmerized, his eyes grow wide. “R-right there?”

And he’s hot - so feverish. 

Glissading body on top of yours burning up with radiating heat, fracturing our rationality just as much as the sweet vanilla scent of his pheromones were. That tiny heart friendship charm on his necklace hitting your collarbones in a dirty staccato. 

You can feel yourself start to drool with how stupid Choso’s cock was fucking you, curling a few neat raking lines down his statuesquely muscled back. It makes him just arch his cock even deeper to jostle your snug insides riotously. 

“I-imagined about me a lot?” Ah, you’re finding it in yourself to smirk.

Something that Choso’s jackhammering out in quick, increasingly sloppy juts of his hips. Slathering the entirety of his cock with your slicked juices. 

“O-of course.” He’s shifting his eyes gingerly away from yours with a boyish blush. But now that Choso had started talking, he couldn’t stop. “Always wan’ed to f-fuck you through a rut or h-heat like this- to-” Couldn’t keep from hiking up a flattened foot to angle his pierced cockhead into every untouched inch inside you. The special upright curve of his shaft driving you mad. “-to absolutely ruin you and-” The hand at your legs hover right over where he was plummeting your insides with gluey kisses - your womb. “-and make you mine. Ours.”

Ours. 

God, just the mere act of confessing those embarrassing little words had Choso’s hulking body practically melting into yours. 

It’s like his abs were made of adhesive, massaging up and down your front. Drowning you into the plethora of wrecked sheets and him when he’s collapsing on top of you - but still going. Still placing pound after pound. 

“I-I want that too-” And you think you hear Choso sharply gasp, but you can’t confirm over your popping ears. “Always wanted it- ah- wanted you to fuck a baby into me, Cho.”

SLAM!

The slowly-splintering bedframe creaks when one particularly harsh rut has the headboard slamming into the wall behind. 

And that’s all he needed to hear. 

A baby - he wants a baby. He needs one - and this wasn’t just his alpha talking - and he was going to get it.

All that Choso thinks he ever could hear all through his honeyed mind for the rest of his life. Replaying it over and over in his mind like his favorite catchy tune. 

You don’t miss the way that he looks so in love above you, gaze practically heart-eyed and gone. Choso’s raw, swollen lips meteor shower your face with peck after peck - just in time with the collisions of his rounded tip into your sweet spots. 

“Boy or girl?”

“H-huh?” you’re questioning, barely-lucidly. 

“Boy or girl.”

And after those senseless little answers are falling from your lips, Choso’s brushing a hand over your lower tummy. Pushing. Hard. Until his twitchy knot was covered in buttery residues of cum, “Ah- a-always wan’ed a daughter with ya first. With your c-cute smile and ngh- eyes.”

Huffing out an embarrassed, “Choso.”

And he’s only scooping back in the leaky sediments of seed that he’s responsible for making a mess of. Turning a slow thumb right over your tight ring of muscle, “Gonna have my- ngh- style of course, heh- you’d be the best momma. D-don’t care if you’re my best friend, m’gonna breed ya until you’re overspilling, beautiful.”

You needed it so badly. Your heat turning up a notch until it felt like you were boiling from the inside out, candied scent drifting more. 

He’s giggling out, dark lashes batting without his permission. “M’gonna- ngh- take care of you-”. The hand caressing your elastic entrance flies upwards to get cleaned off by his own tongue - before prying your jaw sagging open to spit. “Goood fuckin’ care. N’ hopefully you’ll end up p-pregnant…hopefully.”

He’s encircling the dip in your waist and dragging you forwards to smack against his washboard abs. Unable to squirm. Unable to run away. “Gonna be the p-prettiest momma- the ngh- most beautiful.” Other hand restricting your throat so cozily that your vision tinges with black, “Gonna be mine.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words in mind.

The way your sopping walls were milking him for all he’s worth - so greedily - shoving Choso to tip over the edge, too. 

Choso’s letting his body sexily cave into yours, not breaking even a mere inch apart when he’s got you trapped and overfilled with every dollop of his cum icing your insides. And right now you could already feel the way your scents were mixing, the way Choso turns slightly cross-eyed- 

Before sharply turning to your glands and biting. 

Hard. 

His predatory canines break through your epidermis layer like butter, a crimson lipstain gushing from the wound and staining his lips a handsome rouge. 

And - only belatedly, once your omega’s snapping at you with her teeth bared - do you realize that it’s your turn to do the same. As if you would want any other. 

Locking your jaw to dig into his pale, dampish throat, Choso sucks in his cheek to muffle the slightest whine when you’re wringing him through every speck of bliss he could possibly ever feel in a lifetime. Furious cock stuttering out a few more lazy wisps of cum at the mingling feeling of finally being yours. 

“Not ‘nough-” He’s eyeing the leftover ring of cum painting his knot, “Can I fill ya up m-more? Please? Please- my girl.”

You’re pulling away with a woozy nod to rub your thumb over the dug indents of your teeth, gently soothing slow circles over the feral sting. 

Filling you up over and over with each pound, he’s fucking you into the mattress like he hates you. And he’s fucking you like every shuddering ram had a creamy ounce of cum pouring into your gummy walls. Glueing in wet splats against your g-spot, your cervix, like a second sloppy skin. 

Generous helpings of cum drifting into almost blanks-

“Heh- haaaah- y’know tha’s makin’ me still c-cum, beautiful.” Choso’s leaving sodden kisses on your own mark, your lips. “M’sorry m’sorry I- I can’t stop- I just- can’t.”

And it’s sheer animal nature in you that’s screaming at you that you don’t want him to stop until you’re sure it takes. That’s bending down a hand as much as deftly as possible to wrap around Choso’s slightly softening cock - that only tuts in impatience. 

“Wh-when I said inside-” You’re pumping his soaked base as much as possible, feeling the stiffening twitch at his tip buried inside you. “-I mean- inside-”

It’s like you’re being split-apart - like you couldn’t be any fuller if you tried. 

And, yet, only the very curvaceous top of Choso’s inflated knot had bullied its way in-between your lewdly stretched hole. Gaping a pathway so incredibly girthy that it makes you scrunch your brows, head tumbling backwards. 

“Oh- oh, my greedy, greedy girl.” But Choso doesn’t look one bit admonishing - not one bit. Slithering a hand down to your cunt, he’s steamrolling two thick pads of his fingers. Rubbing up against your squeamish walls, scissoring your tight entrance so amply open. “I can put it…inside. R-really, really inside?”

Oh, Choso doesn’t know what blessings he’s received in his past lives. But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for how swelteringly hot and cushy you were around his fat knot. 

Swallowing up the bulging circlet, plugging up your seeping slit safely so that you’re not spilling a single glutinous splotch of his cum. So that it will take. It’s such a tight fit. Such a burning stretch. You felt so full you could burst with every throb of his swollen knot probing your walls. 

Ah, you look so pretty this way.

And Choso’s half-wishing he had a camera to capture this moment. With his lips pressing a few syrupy kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Somewhere near your tummy - so full and slightly inflated with the copious amounts of cum that were dumped inside you. 

He’s murmuring something drunken - something you probably weren’t even supposed to hear. But at the curious tilt of your head, your best friend chews over his lips nervously. 

And a giddy smile plasters across your face at the saccharine love in your best friend’s eyes - the way he was probably mulling over asking you out on a date. There was no turning back at this point, and your omega purred in agreement as you got ready to say yes. For him to say a sweetened- 

“Marry me.”

A/N. You show up at the next Itadori family dinner with a ring and Sukuna has an actual heart attack.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[omanu]

.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

why didn't they just use franziska for literally all of this.

[melochiris]

uuuuouhhghghhhhghggh i wanna work on m yWEBSITE

[yongseungkim]

.

[stompandhollar]

Honestly the most revolutionary thing about Gravity Falls to me is its commitment to sincerity.

I’ve been listening to Alex’s podcast where he goes into the details of each episode with different storyboard artists and writers who worked on the show, and it just baffles me how… cared for the story is. Right now in media there’s been an uptick in satire, and shows making fun of themselves for existing, or taking the piss at their own content to “win” fans to their side. It’s like whimsy is gone from so many pieces of media. But Gravity Falls just doesn’t… do that. It completely embraces itself. Weirdness and all. And so does the team behind it. I’m not used to something I care about being so cared about by everyone surrounding it.

Here’s this cartoon, written and illustrated by an entire team of people saying, “no, we’re serious. we mean this. we made this on purpose and we made it important.”

Throughout the podcast, Alex discusses little ins and outs of each character, offering so much deep internal struggles and enriching the story even farther. And listening to him unpack it with the utmost sincerity just warms my heart. Each character is so dynamic because they were cared for by people who imbued them with sincerity.

That’s exactly why we get quotes like “Shame is powerful, but it grows in the dark,” as Ford realizes the trauma he’s hidden for so long is being embraced by his family, diminishing it’s weight on him through their immediate support.

It’s why we get Alex describing Stanley with quotes like; “I always in my gut thought of him as somebody with a huge well of sadness, a loss of human connection. And that need to please? That need to get laughs from the crowd, and putting on a big show? He’s trying to get from them the affection he never got from his family, and that he lost with his brother.”

Or detailing how Mabel might be a goof… but half the time she’s doing a bit, because she’s really more mature than her brother and doesn’t want him to grow up too fast. She’s trying to help ground him and bring lightheartedness into his life. Because she knows otherwise, he’ll become too self isolated.

And those two mini character studies he dropped so casually in these podcast episodes just… color the show. It’s why the show survived so well even after ten years. It’s gruff-old Stan always calling his niece “Pumpkin” and “Honey”. It’s the family always holding hands without it behind laced with a joke, and falling asleep on one another in the car. It’s Alex explaining that people toyed with other endings, other plot lines, other twists, but it was always going to end with Stan and Ford mending the family tie they severed thirty years ago. Because that was their story. Messes and family and care.

Ten years ago, watching it for the first time as it came out, I felt all that. But now, as an adult, knowing that all the other adults who made it felt the exact same way? :,) What a special story we all got to grow up with, and get to continue being apart of.

[kitten4sannie]

imprint

pairing: werewolf! mingi x hunter! reader (fem)

genre: fluff, romance, smut

summary: you seemingly end up biting off more than you can chew upon discovering that the beast you hunted down for dinner is not what it seems.

w.c: 4.5k (more plot than smut this time hehe)

warnings: needy soft dom! mingi, sub! reader, pet names + praise only (shocking ik), pheromones mentioned, possessiveness, kissing, groping, tit play, spit + drool bc wolf mingi is a messy boy <3, mingi eats out reader like she’s his last meal 🫶🏼, SIZE KINK,,, feral unprotected sex, knotting <333, bulge kink/cum inflation, breeding kink ofc

a/n: IT’S FICTOBER TIME BITCH LETS FUCKING GOOO 🗣️ i am fashionably late ~ but i have come here to humbly offer you lovestruck werewolf mingi 🐺 <3 this is the softest my fictober stories will get btw lol it’s gonna be depravity from here on out ^^ oh and i’m sorry if this fic seems disjointed in any way,, i have a lot on my mind these days but regardless i hope you enjoy ~~

pssst: thank you so, so much for 5.5k followers !! it’s honestly insane to me and i still can’t fathom it hehe but the support and love means so very much to me <333

song rec: say - keshi

fictober 2024

You knew better than to hunt at night, but your rumbling stomach begged to differ. The evening air was frigid, sitting heavily inside your lungs each time you regrettably breathed it in, your hefty pelt only doing so much to keep you safe from the powerful winds that continually blew through the vast forest around you. You pulled the hood of your pelt down for a moment, the familiar sounds of wildlife finally making their way to your now exposed ears, though a freezing breeze made its mark on the soft flesh of your rosy cheeks and nose. You bit into your chapped bottom lip, surveying your surroundings for something you’d be able to feast on once you were back inside the safety of your cabin, thanking the gods for the decent visibility you had from the full moon above. 

The longer you sat there in silence, your body never growing acclimated to the fierce winter temperatures, you began to fall susceptible to exhaustion, the kind that had sunk its way deep into your bones in the same way your loneliness had for years at a time, feeling so heavy you retired from your once rigid stance and slumped down against the oak tree behind you. A few winks of sleep couldn’t possibly hurt you, not when you were quick to rise and fight if need be, your trusty bow and arrow at your side, as well as a pocket knife always sitting in its holster at your hip. You would be up as soon as you had the strength to open up your eyes and go on. 

You eventually woke up to the sound of howling. It had been so distinctly powerful that it was most likely produced by a large wolf, perhaps the leader of a pack. It was then that the culprit of the noise stalked past a few nearby trees and bushes, its dark shaggy coat leaving it virtually impossible to see due to the way it blended in so seamlessly. Leaving abnormally big paw prints behind in the ground below, it slowly paced back and forth in front of you, still quite a distance away from you, but getting closer and closer with each step it made, its large brown eyes piercing right through yours and seemingly gazing upon your soul, deeply fixated on your presence. 

It was much larger than any wolf you had seen in your entire lifetime, more akin to a dire wolf, which you had only seen in books, as it had been extinct for hundreds of years before, yet it was…so familiar. Still trapped inside the limbo of the dream you were initially having and your reality, you weren’t completely sure if what was happening before you was actually real. Not only that, but you had the sudden urge to be at the mercy of the wolf, even if it meant that you’d end up with your throat between the beautiful creature’s ragged teeth. However, you weren’t going to roll the dice with death, not when you’ve seen past loved ones get their lives snuffed out by a predator half the size of the one that was suddenly eagerly making its way towards you. 

Just before the wolf could reach you, your bow was drawn, the feathered arrow slicing into the cold skin of your cheek as it sailed through the air and lodged itself into the creature’s shoulder, your eyes shut tight all the while. What you expected to hear were the familiar pained whines of a canine but you instead were exposed to the lower pitched groans of a man, causing you to freeze, your eyes opening back up, now widened like marbles. The last thing you were expecting to see was another human, not when you lived alone in the woods for so long, and especially not a man that was stark naked and cowering in pain, with tears in his glistening eyes, looking at you as though you had betrayed him. 

You dropped your bow in favor of being at the strange man’s side, surveying his wound, realizing you were so exhausted and hungry, you must’ve simply imagined the wolf. “I-i thought…” you whispered, mostly to yourself, your voice trailing off, almost surprised to hear it after not using it for so long.

“Is that your way of saying hello?” The man hissed in pain when you touched the site of his wound, pushing your hand away from the broken shard of wood that was still lodged inside his bare shoulder. 

“I thought you were…going to kill me…” You reached down and tore off a portion of your thick linen blouse, about to wrap it around the man’s wound when you blocked you with his forearm. “I saw a wolf…” 

“Do I look like a wolf?” he pouted, reaching over to hold his shoulder in pain. 

“I’m sorry, I–…Please, let me help you. I need to apply pressure,” you reasoned, your face contorted with growing regret and concern. 

Studying your body language, the man cautiously let go of his arm and allowed you to wrap the torn linen around the wound site, biting into his lip all the while, letting out a few pained grunts. “Hurts…” 

“I know, I’m almost done, I promise…” you whispered softly near him, taking a second to share a look with the man, apologizing once again with your softened gaze and upturned brows. 

Once you were done, he leaned forward slightly into your personal space to study you, his eyes widened once again, this time with curiosity and admiration, already trusting you despite remnants of your arrow still left inside him. 

You bit into your lip, letting out a small breath, which turned into condensation as soon as it left your mouth. “I didn’t think anyone else lived in this forest…Where did you come from?”

Afraid that you would find his true identity to be far too much for you to handle, he thought it would be better to hide it. “Some would call me a nomad…I’m here, there, everywhere, really.” 

You nodded at his words, noticing once again that he lacked clothes when you were finally able to pull your attention away from his hypnotizing likeness, never having been drawn to someone like this before. It was then that you averted your eyes with diligence, your once cold cheeks growing warmer the more he stared at you. It took all your strength to return his gaze for just a moment. “Do nomads usually wander around the woods without proper clothing?” 

“Well–” The werewolf’s vision went dark for a second, as your pelt was thrown onto him. He pulled it down just enough to continue admiring the human he had been watching from a distance for so long, blowing a few strands of dark shaggy hair out of his sight. “I’m Mingi, by the way. What’s your name?” 

“Y-Y/N,” you answered sheepishly, not sure why the strange man was so keenly interested in you, especially after you just shot him with an arrow. 

“Y/N,” he repeated lovingly, enjoying the way it sounded, slowly sitting up until little white dots began to dance around his vision. “I don’t feel so good.” When Mingi fell forward into your arms, he couldn’t help but smile. You smelled so pretty, just like he had imagined. Warm like cinnamon, smoky like the fire you always kept burning inside your cabin, sweet like flowers in a garden he would roll around in when no one was around. You smelled like home. 

-

It took most of your strength helping the injured man back to your cabin, immediately laying him down in your bed and pulling your warm blankets up over him. To beat the freezing temperature inside your cabin, you quickly tossed a few pieces of wood in the fireplace and lit it up. You stayed crouched near the controlled flames for a little while to make sure the fire stayed alive, until your company let out a soft groan of pain. Now at his side, you pulled the pelt from his shoulders and frowned at the extent of the damage you caused, tears pricking at your eyes. “You’re still bleeding, Mingi…I’m so sorry…I need to stitch you up.”

Just as you stood up, Mingi reached up to hold onto the corner of your torn blouse, blinking hazily up at you, a few beads of sweat cascading along his straining neck. “Please, don’t worry about me, love. You’re the one who needs rest.” 

“Nonsense.” You shook your head, pulling away to find your sewing kit, your cheeks hot to the touch. Once you found it inside one of your drawers, along with a sleep shirt that had belonged to a previous loved one, you returned to Mingi’s side. “Now, stay still, okay?” 

“I’ll do whatever you need from me.” Mingi slowly sat up and rested his back against the headboard, watching with interest as you expertly sewed his wound closed, quite fond of the way you took care of him, and of how close you were to him, your hand resting on his chest for stability as you worked. Before you could pull your hand away from his body, he placed his over yours, unintentionally allowing you to feel his rapid heartbeat. “Thank you for this. Anyone else would’ve left me for the wolves.”

Biting into your lip, you couldn’t help but take into account the way his hand completely enveloped yours, truly forgetting just how important physical touch and connection with others was until this very moment, now that his warm skin was pressing into yours. “I-it’s nothing, really…”

“No, it’s not just nothing,” Mingi pouted, slowly bringing your hand up against his cheek to gently nuzzle into it. He couldn’t believe he had gotten this close to you, the special human he had been head over paws for ever since he had seen you for the first time. “It’s everything. You saved me.” 

It was almost as if this stranger had escaped one of the novels you read over and over, seeming too good to be true. “It was the least I could do after I hurt you…” 

It was when Mingi began to look at you for too long, with that unwavering longing in his eyes, that you cleared your throat and stood up, announcing, “I think I’ll make us some nice, warm soup. How does that sound?” 

It took everything in Mingi not to let out a few celebratory howls, instead nodding his head eagerly, his shaggy brown hair bouncing. “I’ve always wanted to try your food. I can smell it from outside sometimes and it always makes my stomach rumble.” 

You began to expertly chop up vegetables, stopping mid slice when you digested Mingi’s interesting choice of words. “So you know of me?” 

“I-i do,” he nodded shyly, despite your back being turned away from him.

“Have you been watching me, Mingi?” you asked after a few more minutes of silence, your knife now slicing into the last few potatoes you had pulled from your garden before winter began. 

“….Admiring you,” he gently corrected, knowing his big fluffy ears would be splayed out in embarrassment if they were there. 

Just as you began to pour the cut up vegetables into the pot of boiling broth, you blushed and jolted suddenly from the implications of the handsome stranger’s words. Your elbow knocked into the side of your cleaver, causing it to slip off the edge of the wood counter. Before you could blink, Mingi had already caught the handle of the cleaver, slowly standing up by your side, officially displaying the sheer size difference between the two of you. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, love…” Mingi set the cleaver back down onto the counter, reaching over to touch your hand with a gentleness you hadn’t experienced before. 

The speed and quickness of Mingi’s reaction was incomprehensible; you were still reeling from it. Now he stood beside you, his size and stature more akin to a beast in human form than a simple man. Not only that, but the hand that was overlapping yours felt hot to the touch, like Mingi had a furnace burning away inside of him. You had heard stories of shapeshifters that lived in dense forests much like the one you called home. They had been around for centuries, living amongst themselves, never interacting with humans, able to take the form of beasts at will. You glanced out your window, peering up at the bright orb looming over you. It was a full moon, after all — but did myths like that really exist in the real world? 

“Mingi…are you…?” Your words began to die inside your mouth as soon as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place inside your mind. You couldn’t deny the connection you felt with Mingi, knowing that your total isolation played a part in your desire to let him in. It clouded your mind. You were growing so tired, you almost didn’t seem to mind if he wasn’t strictly human. 

Mingi smiled softly down at you, one of his canine teeth poking out past his plump lips, leaning himself down a bit to shorten the distance between you. He waited eagerly for you to finish your question, tilting his head to the side, having to blow his hair out of the way. 

“Are you hungry?” you finally asked, lowering the flame on the stove so that the soup could settle now that it was ready to serve. 

Mingi’s lips formed a silent ‘o’, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He thought you might’ve been on the same page about your mutual attraction, but he was beginning to suspect that his obsession with you was one sided. It’s not like you had imprinted on him; it was the other way around. Silly wolf. 

Before Mingi could cry about it, he tasted something so delicious, he couldn’t help but let out an enthusiastic ‘mmm!’. You had slipped a soup spoon into his open mouth, allowing him to try the first homemade meal he’s ever had in his life, one that you had made for the both of you to share together within the sanctity of your cabin, away from the bitter isolation of the forest. He was a silly wolf, after all, because this, this was love. 

“Good?” you gauged softly, your eyebrows upturned with sheepish anticipation. 

“Good! Ahhh~” Mingi licked his lips and opened up again, savoring the warm, comforting feeling inside his stomach once you fed him another bite. “I’ve never had something this delicious before.” 

“Oh, stop,” you blushed, pouring some soup into a bowl and handing it to Mingi, shocked to see him bring it up to his mouth and gulp it down. “Oh, you weren’t lying…were you?” 

Mingi’s brown eyes were round, shiny like marbles, filled with unwavering sincerity. “Everything tastes better when you’re with the one you love…” 

You almost choked on your own soup, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. “D-did I hear that right…?” 

Mingi was a romantic at heart. He couldn’t help it, especially when the moon was so big and bright, glowing with everlasting light. She was reminding him to be brave. “Y/N, do you believe in love at first sight?” 

Your heart thumped away inside your chest, a steady reminder that you were alive, and not alone for the first time in a long time. “I think I might…Is that crazy?” 

Mingi brought his hand up to his face to hide the way it scrunched up with pure joy, his cheeks rosy and full of warmth. “If it is, then I must be too.” 

“Where…have you been all this time? I’ve been waiting…for someone like you…” You slowly reached up to pull his hand down, bringing it to your own face, pressing your cold cheek into his large palm. “For someone to keep me warm.” 

He had been there all this time; you just hadn’t seen him yet. But now, you would see all of him. Without thinking, Mingi brought his other hand to your face, gently cupping your cheeks and bringing himself down so that he could press his lips onto yours. It took everything in him to pull away just enough to whisper, “I’m here now. Is that…better?” 

For the first time, you felt like you could let your guard down, not be the lonely, hardened hunter you had to be. Now that you were safe, you could take a rest. “Better,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around Mingi’s neck just in time to lay against his chest, losing the strength to stay awake. 

-

You woke up to the sensation of something intensely warm wrapped around you from behind, someone’s lips idly pressed to the nape of your neck, what felt like fluffy ears twitching near your hair, the soft fur tickling your exposed skin. The air around you was hot and heavy like you were stuck inside an oven, an enticing aroma of spiced cinnamon and woody musk clouding your senses. Your eyelids fluttered open, first noticing two strong arms locked around your middle, realizing Mingi was holding you close to him, his heated chest pressing into your back. 

Overcome by the memories of earlier, the forgotten intimacy of being touched and held by someone, the intense pheromones you were practically doused in, and the want, the need to be truly seen by Mingi, despite having just met a few hours ago, you attempted to turn around to face him, only to have him tighten his grip just enough to keep you still. “M-mingi, I want to look at you…I’m not mad, I just–”

“Do you know what you’re getting into, love?” he whispered in a gravelly voice into your ear, sounding like he had just woken up out of a deep sleep, sending a rush of goosebumps across your skin with just his words. “I’m not…what you think I am.” 

You sheepishly pushed back against Mingi, hearing him let out a soft groan, knowing he was just as satisfied with the way your body felt against his. “I already know, Mingi…I trust you. I’m not scared.” You felt his grip loosen up around your waist, opting to cement his hands around your waist.

His lips were now pressing directly onto the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Do you know what I am, Y/N? Do you wish to see?” 

“I do…” 

It was then that Mingi climbed on top of you, his broad naked body keeping the glowing orange light of the fire from reaching you, the pelt you had offered him earlier falling into a pile on the side of the bed. Filled with a sense of lustful wonder, you studied Mingi, your half-closed eyes trailing along his tan skin, noticing how his wound had already healed completely, unable to ignore the arousing addition of his elongated canine teeth and the way his tongue ran across them. “You’re a…werewolf…”

Mingi’s fluffy wolf ears twitched slightly, listening closely to the way your breath hitched. “Most would be scared of me, but you…you like this.” 

You swallowed harshly, still finding it very difficult to breathe in the air around you, Mingi’s dominating presence further encouraging you to submit. “Will you eat me?” 

Mingi let out a small puff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth curling up into an amused smile, lowering himself further onto you, knowing his heavy cock was pressing into your heat through your linen trousers. His lips ghosted along your jaw, the bushy end of his tail gliding back and forth along one of your ankles, replicating the light strokes of a paintbrush. “Only in the way that would have you begging for more.” The small moan that escaped your throat didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He nosed at your neck, resisting the urge to lick and bite at it. “Though, i won’t do anything without your permission, love.”

You cupped your hands around his heated face, your insides feeling as if they had been set ablaze. “Do with me what you will, Mingi. I insist.” 

When Mingi’s lips parted, you pressed yours onto them with a fervor you didn’t realize you possessed. The kiss grew more and more intense, the two of you holding onto one another as though you were afraid it all would end too soon, taking turns licking into each other’s willing mouths, breathing in each other’s air when you grew dizzy. 

Growing frustrated with the lack of skin on skin contact, Mingi pushed his large hands up past the hem of your woolen top and slid it off of you, admiring the soft curves of your exposed breasts, before his desperation kicked in and he nuzzled his face against them, sighing onto your skin. “Beautiful…” He dragged his tongue up in between your tits, grabbing one while he sucked desperately on the other, a low growl erupting from his throat. 

“Mingi,” you moaned out, your back arching, only encouraging him to see what other pretty noises he could get you to make, gasping when his sharp teeth teased your sensitive nipples. 

He licked over them to ease the sudden bout of pain, unable to keep himself from sucking one of them into his mouth, apologizing with his upturned eyebrows and his big, round eyes. 

You simply couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him to make a mess of your aching cunt, feeling your wetness stick to the thin linen material of your pants as you kicked them off. “Mingi, more, please, need more…” 

The werewolf knew what you needed when your fingers slid into his soft hair, leaving kisses along your bare body as he moved down south, getting himself comfortable between your spread thighs. “You want me to eat you up, yeah?” He spread your pussy open with his thumbs, nosing at it to inhale your flowery scent, quite aware that it bumped into your clit when he gave your slit an experimental lick, just enough to collect your essence on his tongue. “My beloved needs me to ravage her?” 

“Yes, plea–oh, my god,” you reacted whinily, your thighs involuntarily pressing into the sides of his head just as he dove in, which he grabbed onto, pushing them up and out of his way, his lips and tongue already working in tandem to drive you to a place of pleasure you’ve never been before. 

Mingi devoured your cunt in true animalistic fashion, licking and slurping up your juices as soon as it spilled out of you, just to spit it it back onto your slit and drink it all down, eventually plugging you up with his large tongue to feel you throb, unable to keep himself from fucking you with it until you began to cry out his name in between unintelligible words, your fingers tugging on his hair.

So good, it’s so good, nnnghh, i’m–” You cut yourself off once your impending orgasm took over your body, barely able to register Mingi rubbing soft circles into your shaking thighs and leaving kisses across your inner thigh and on your sensitive clit. You were finally brought back to earth when Mingi’s arousal coated tongue slipped into your mouth, his heated body pressing heavily into yours, gasping into his mouth as soon as Mingi began to desperately rut against you, doing your best to swallow his drool. It was when he whimpered that you broke the desperate kiss, asking softly, “What is it, dear? Tell me what you need.” 

“Need you, need to be inside you,” Mingi exhaled against your jaw, letting out a few shaky breaths, unable to keep himself from sinking his claws into your sheets, clearly at his limit. “Can I…? Please?” 

“Have your way with me, Mingi,” you granted his wish, welcoming him with open arms, just as he folded you up into a mating press and began to pound himself into you.

Mingi knew that such an intimate position would almost guarantee that you would home his pups after the very first knot. It drove him crazy. He couldn’t help but fuck into you as hard and fast as he could, emitting a animalistic grunt or growl with each thrust he made into your dripping cunt, a few drops of drool escaping past his plump lips and landing on your flushed, sweat-ridden face. “You’re mine now, love. My mate. I’m going to breed you.” 

“Y–ours…!” you could barely enunciate, not when he kept punching the air out of your petite body when his oversized one came in contact with yours, his heavy cock continually slipping back into your willing hole with so much ease, it was clear that you were made for him.

“Mine. My pretty little mate, all for me.” It was then that Mingi bit down into your neck, hard enough that he could leave his mark on you, a white hot streak of pleasure shooting through your spine as he did so. 

It felt so good, you could’ve swore you were already cumming, dragging your nails down his broad back, your eyes disappearing underneath your fluttering eyelashes. The werewolf didn’t seem to get tired, no matter how many times you came undone, his large hands still tugging on your hips, forcefully guiding you back onto his cock as though you were a simple doll, at least until you felt a new sensation, something stretching you open even further. “Haaah, it’s so big…”  

“That’s my knot, love. Will you take it, Y/N?” he panted into your ear, licking and nibbling at it as his husky voice finally penetrated your hazy mind.

“Yes, give it to me, please, Min…”

He hummed against your skin, running his hands along the soft edges of your heated body. “I’ll breed you full…so full of my cum, you’ll be carrying my pups by the next full moon.” 

Something about what Mingi said altered the state of your mind on a primal level, your thighs automatically hooking around the werewolf’s waist, your arms around his neck to hold him impossibly close. You wouldn’t be alone anymore. You had a “mate,” like Mingi had lovingly coined the phrase. You would be his, and he was yours, and something so simple made you feel safe. 

“Yes, please.” 

It wasn’t the heavy knot that stretched you wide and locked you in that brought tears to your eyes, but the sudden, hot, seemingly endless rush of cum that flooded your womb that made you cry. Mingi rubbed gentle circles over the small pouch that joined the prominent bulge his cock made inside your abdomen. “You did so well, love, so good for me,” he cooed at you, giving your cheek a few loving licks. “You were made for me.” 

“I was just thinking that,” you sighed softly, running your fingers through his matted, sweaty hair, loving how it felt to have him still stay inside you, keeping all his love from pouring out. It just felt right. Being here with Mingi felt right, like you had always been waiting for him to fall into your life. 

“That’s because you’re my other half.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before resting his against yours. “It was destined.” 

“For me to shoot you with an arrow?” you joked, reaching up to gently play with one of his furry ears. 

Mingi nuzzled into your touch, wanting to stay with you in that moment, that warm bed, that cozy little cabin that kept you both safe for as long as he could. “I would get shot a million times over, if it meant that I could meet you again.” 

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