#no plot none not even an ounce

[polutrope]

Made For Her

f!Maedhros/f!Maglor pwp for @maedhrosmaglorweek, Day 1: Treelight 1.5k, Rated E

Maitimë’s body is the model of womanly beauty: she is all long curving lines, each joint blending seamlessly into the next; and where the lines break continuity — as at her fine collarbones, her proud cheekbones, the sharp line of her nose — these are as artfully placed cuts upon a gemstone.

Elsewhere her body swells — her breasts, her calves, her ass — and it is upon these features most eyes, following the cascade of her shining copper hair, linger.

Few venture to meet Maitimë’s bright grey eyes. She is told (and knows) she has the eyes of her father, twin white flames, and laughs when rumour comes to her that even the princes of Valmar who dwell at Varda’s feet are too afeard to look upon them long.

Maitimë does not mind. It tickles her, such admiration and awe, for no prince or lord will ever have her. “To none will the lofty heir of Curufinwë grant her love,” they murmur, and she plays the part they have given her.

There is only one, too close to be suspected, to whom she grants the enjoyment of her body. 

Read the rest on AO3.

[higgs-the-god]

Idk if anyone dives a fuck abt furau anymore but liek……

[bread-crum206]

hi! this is my first ask, I hope you write it. I just had an idea going about. What if reader's a doctor, the same doctor who treated Hwang In-ho's wife? With the limited resources she was provided, she tried her best, but failed to save his wife. Reader's a nice, kind doctor, but after failing to save her, reader just slipped deeper and deeper into despair, and started to drink away all her fortune, and ended up in the Squid Games. Hwang In-ho immediately recognizes reader and vows to end her, but somehow feels himself drawn to her, wanting to destroy her, even more. But, as he joins the game as 001, Reader opens up to him and he sees true regret in reader's eyes. Things start to change, and In-ho feels a dark, deep attraction towards Reader. That's all! It's okay if you don't want to write about it. Thank you!<3

Forbidden Emotions

Hwang In-ho/Frontman x reader

Summary: Haunted by failure, a fallen doctor finds herself in the deadly arena of the Squid Games. Hwang In-ho, hidden behind the mask of the Front Man, recognizes her — the one who failed to save his wife. He should hate her, but a darker pull complicates his intentions.

The room feels suffocating as you sit in the dim light, holding the empty glass in your hand. The soft clink of the ice cubes against the glass echoes in the silence. You hadn’t meant for it to go this far, but the weight of your failure is a constant burden.

You tried everything to save Hwang In-ho’s wife. You poured every ounce of knowledge, every technique you knew into her care, but none of it was enough. The moment her pulse faded away, something inside you died too. You failed not only a patient, but a family, and a man who would never forgive you for it.

Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, as your life spiraled further. The hospital let you go, and with it, so did your self-worth. In the dim corners of your thoughts, you heard his voice again—Hwang In-ho’s voice, sharp with anger, accusing you, blaming you for the death of the woman he loved.

The alcohol came soon after. A glass here, another there. It soothed the sting, numbed the regret, and before you knew it, you were slowly drinking away every piece of yourself. Your wealth evaporated, your career crumbled, and the world you had known no longer existed.

One day, when the debts finally caught up with you, when the choices had been made and there was nowhere else to go, you found yourself in the same hell that had taken so many others—the Squid Games.

The first time you laid eyes on him again, it was like a punch to the gut. Hwang In-ho, number 001 plastered on his chest. He hadn’t changed, except for the coldness in his eyes that made your heart freeze. He was sitting among the other players, his cold, calculating demeanor standing in sharp contrast to your own fractured state. You barely recognized him at first, but when his eyes met yours, you knew.

He had been watching you from the moment you entered. His gaze pierced through you, and you could feel the heat of his anger. You had caused his wife’s death, and there was no way he would ever let you forget it.

“I remember you,” he says, his voice a low growl. “The doctor who killed my wife.”

The words cut deep, but the worst part isn’t the accusation—it’s the way his eyes burn with the desire for vengeance. Yet, there’s something else lurking there too, something you can’t quite place.

In-ho’s hatred festers, consuming him. He came to the Squid Games for a singular purpose: to make sure you paid. But even as he plots your downfall, there’s an undeniable pull toward you—a desire to see you suffer.

As the game begins and you are thrust into a deadly series of challenges, In-ho finds himself growing closer to you, observing your struggle with a twisted mixture of pity and contempt. He sees the shame in your eyes, the weight of the regret you carry like a shadow, and it gnaws at him.

One night, when the bloodshed subsides and the survivors take a brief reprieve, you finally let your guard down. You pour out your pain in front of him, something you never expected to do.

“I never wanted this,” you whisper, your voice raw, trembling with remorse. “I didn’t kill her. I just… I couldn’t save her. And it destroyed me.”

For the first time, In-ho sees you as more than the failure he accused you of being. You aren’t just the doctor who failed his wife—you’re a woman broken by your own guilt.

His own anger begins to unravel as he watches you fall apart. The very rage that once consumed him now seems misplaced, and something darker begins to grow in its place. An attraction—dangerous, twisted, and impossible to ignore.

The more he watches you, the more he can’t resist the pull. He joined the game for vengeance, yes—but now, he’s here for something else. Something he doesn’t fully understand. The twisted mix of hate, regret, and undeniable attraction to the woman who has destroyed his life.

It’s inevitable. The Squid Games are no longer about survival for him. It’s about you.

And as he finds himself standing at the edge of the game, his eyes never leaving you, In-ho realizes that whatever dark path lies ahead, it will be shaped by you. He has no choice but to follow it—to destroy you, and perhaps, to destroy himself in the process.

———————

Much like Oh Il-nam, In-ho ‘dies’ in one of the games. You hear the gunshot, hear the splatter of blood, but you can’t bring yourself to look, so you stay facing the wall.

You feel like you’ve killed him, first his wife, and now him. They’re both your fault. Even though you knew it wasn’t.

———————

The games drag on, each one more brutal and harrowing than the last. But amidst the bloodshed, there’s a peculiar twist in the unfolding chaos. In-ho, despite his initial resolve to end you, finds himself watching you more intently than ever. Every movement, every fragile moment of vulnerability only deepens his obsession.

He can’t understand it. Why is he drawn to you? Why does he feel this burning, unrelenting pull toward you, despite everything? The desire for vengeance had once been all-consuming, a fire that had driven him to join this deadly game. But now? Now, there’s something else—something darker, more complex.

As the final rounds of the game near, In-ho’s gaze never leaves you. The other players have been whittled down, but you remain—surviving by sheer grit and determination, the same qualities that once defined him. You’ve proven yourself worthy of a chance, despite the twisted circumstances.

In the final moments of the game, when the last of the players fall, In-ho makes a decision. He can’t let you die—not like this. Not after everything that has happened. So, when the game ends, he orders his guards to spare you, despite the bitter, gnawing hatred that still lives in his heart.

They escort you to his office, a stark, cold room that has seen too many dark moments. The door closes behind you with a heavy thud, and you stand there, disoriented, your face a mixture of confusion and exhaustion.

You look up at him, your eyes wary but relieved. “Why?” you ask, your voice hoarse from the strain of the games.

“I told you,” In-ho’s voice is cold, but there’s something beneath it. Something raw. “I haven’t forgotten what you did. But I can’t let you die here. Not after everything.”

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, your gaze flickers around the room, landing on the polished desk, the chair where he sits, the sharp, sterile environment that feels like a cage. You can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

In-ho’s eyes remain locked on you. He ordered you to be brought here, but now that you’re before him, he doesn’t know what to do. There’s an unspoken question in the silence between you: What now?

And then, as though the dam has finally broken, he speaks again, his voice lower, almost reluctant. “Do you even understand the pain you’ve caused me? My wife—she died under your care.”

You flinch, the guilt surging back with a force that almost takes your breath away. “I didn’t kill her,” you whisper, your voice shaking with the weight of the truth. “I tried. I tried everything to save her. But… but I couldn’t. And I’ve been living with that every single day since.”

His gaze softens, just slightly, but the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he mutters, his fists clenching. “She’s dead because of you.”

Your heart sinks, the words like a knife in your chest. You know he won’t understand. How could he? You’re just the doctor who couldn’t save his wife, a failure in his eyes. He’ll never see the truth—that it wasn’t your fault. Not unless he lets go of the anger, the bitterness that’s eaten him alive since that day.

You take a step closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry,” you say, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I couldn’t save her. But I didn’t kill her. I would’ve given anything to bring her back.”

In-ho stares at you, the anger still lingering in his chest, but now mixed with something else. Confusion. Desire. He doesn’t understand why, but there’s something in your words, something in your eyes that makes the ache in his chest twist. His wife is gone, yes, but here you are—broken, just like him—and he can’t ignore the pull. It’s as if your pain is a shared burden, and despite all the hatred, he finds himself unable to look away.

Before he can stop himself, he moves toward you, closing the space between you in an instant. His hand reaches up, brushing against your cheek, fingers trembling just slightly.

Your breath catches in your throat, your body instinctively leaning into the touch. You’ve been living in a haze of regret for so long, and in this moment, it feels like he understands. For a brief second, it isn’t about the game. It isn’t about the failure. It’s about something deeper. Something you both share.

In-ho’s lips are on yours before he can think, a rough, desperate kiss full of rage, longing, and the confusion that’s been building between you. His hands pull you closer, as though he could erase the distance that has always separated you, even before the games began.

You kiss him back, your mind spinning, but your heart starting to race. The kiss is desperate, almost reckless, but it’s also filled with something raw—something you both need, even if you don’t fully understand it.

When you finally break apart, breathless and tangled in each other’s gaze, In-ho looks at you with a mixture of shock and something darker. His expression is conflicted, torn between the anger that drove him here and the pull that now binds him to you.

“You’re still the doctor who couldn’t save her,” he says, his voice rough, his chest rising and falling as if he’s just run a marathon. “But there’s something about you… I can’t stop feeling it.”

You take a shaky breath, your body still thrumming with the intensity of the kiss. “I didn’t kill her,” you repeat, your voice firm now, despite the tumult inside you. “I couldn’t save her. But I didn’t kill her.”

In-ho’s eyes search yours, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he can’t control. He’s angry, yes. But there’s something else—something that makes him want to destroy you… and protect you at the same time.

“I don’t know what this is,” he says, his voice softer now, a mixture of uncertainty and fascination. “But I can’t walk away from you. Not now.”

And in that moment, you both realize something: despite the pain, despite the tragedy, you are drawn together by forces beyond your control. The game, the anger, the past—it doesn’t matter. What matters now is the undeniable connection between you, no matter how twisted or dark it might seem.

And as In-ho stands there, wrestling with the ghosts of his wife’s death and the overwhelming desire to possess the woman who had once been her savior, he knows one thing for certain: he isn’t finished with you yet.

———————

Hi!! Here it is! I hope you liked it! This was fun to write so let me know if you want more and even something a little spicy 🌶️

[ssamlovr]

KATSEYE. — how the first kiss went (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)...

pairing. fem!r x non idol au ──wc; 1.8k (This was supposed to be posted yesterday but as soon as I finished I fell asleep sorry 🙏🏻)

୨९. NOW PLAYING; sunny days - wave to earth

SOPHIA LAFORTEZA...

Somehow, Sophia always had a way of making you nervous with just a single glance. Even when she did, you’d act annoyed, though deep down, you loved it.

That day was no exception. She always looked at you with sweet, love-filled eyes, never bothering to hide it. As your hands swung gently together during a calm night walk near your apartment, you were passionately talking about your favorite movie and its plot twist. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—she really did—but deep down, all she could focus on was your full, captivating lips moving.

You didn’t notice her silence until it became impossible to ignore.

“And the end—” Your words faltered as soon as your gaze met hers, and your heart raced. Even after all the teasing looks she’d given you before, none felt like this one. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“W-what...?” was all you managed to stammer, and for you, that was totally embarrassing. You silently thanked the universe for the darkness of the night because if Sophia realized how hot your cheeks had turned, her teasing would have been endless.

Still, at your question, Sophia paused, debating whether to lie and say she was listening or admit what was really on her mind.

She stopped walking, standing directly in front of you, and with a soft sigh, she murmured, “I’m dying to kiss you, that’s all.”

In that moment, her eyes sparkled with affection, and a wave of excitement washed over you. Because even though you’d never said it aloud, you had been impatiently waiting for this moment too.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you swallowed your nerves and, to your own surprise, replied, “Why don’t you, then?”

That was all Sophia needed. She tugged on your sweater, stood on her tiptoes, and closed the distance between you.

The kiss was slow, tender, and overflowing with emotion. It left Sophia blushing, and for once, the tables turned—you spent the rest of the night teasing her in revenge for all the times she had flustered you so easily.

LARA RAJ...

Lara always saw herself as a confident person—she always was. But when it came to you, she became someone completely different.

Yeah of course she made the first move, walked up to you, asked for your number with that flirty smile of hers. And, let’s be honest, from the moment you saw her, you fell head over heels. But now that she’s your girlfriend, you’ve seen a side of her you never expected.

For your first month together, you decided to spend the day at the beach. You went early, played in the ocean, laughed and teased each other like two lovestruck teenagers. The day flew by—though Lara always felt time moved too fast when she was with you.

Sitting on a blanket, your arms propped against the sand and Lara resting against your chest, watching the beautiful sunset, you felt like the happiest person in the world. Nothing could top this moment.

But even then, when Lara lifted her head and looked at you, her eyes shining with pure adoration, you were mesmerized.

From an outsider’s perspective, it could’ve been a scene straight out of a romance movie.

Lara’s eyes locked with yours for a while. She felt her heart racing, and it only got worse when, without realizing it, her gaze drifted to your lips. Throughout that first month, she’d often glanced at them when you were distracted, wondering how they’d feel against hers.

And as they say, actions speak louder than words. Your eyes mirrored the same admiration for her lips, and that was all the confirmation she needed. Her hand gently moved to your neck, and she leaned in slowly. She brushed her nose against yours before closing the distance.

In that kiss, Lara knew she didn’t need anyone else—she didn’t want anyone else but you. And you felt the same. Even though it wasn’t the first relationship for either of you, this was something entirely different—feelings neither of you had experienced before.

Without thinking, you said the words that solidified your devotion to her. Words you meant with every fiber of your being.

“I love you, Lara…”

Her throat tightened instantly as emotions overwhelmed her. It felt so good to be loved, to feel so incredibly happy.

“I love you too, Yn.”

DANIELA AVANZINI...

Dani always let things flow, even in the relationship. That’s why she thought the first kiss would happen naturally, just lean whenever she feels like it.

But it didn’t go as she imagined. From the moment she saw you, hugged you, and sat on the grass with the basket full of food, she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Unfortunately, she was far too shy to make the first move.

Still, she looked absolutely adorable, playing with her fingers, more restless than usual. With every passing second, she inched closer to you—whether it was a casual touch of hands or resting her head on your shoulder while leaning against the tree.

Luckily for her, you’ve always been the perfect example of her dream girl, and that girl knows how to read minds.

Even though you might have been enjoying the sight of your nervous, silly girlfriend figuring out how to give you the kiss she so desperately wanted, you were just as restless. You couldn’t stop thinking about kissing those lips that had captivated you from the very beginning.

As you sat in front of her, your hand resting on her cheek, your forehead gently touching hers, you quietly whispered,

“Dani, can I kiss you?”

You felt your heart pounding in your throat, while your girlfriend felt hers in the palm of her hand, ready to give it to you.

Without saying a word, she kissed you. At first, it was just a quick peck, which made you chuckle softly. But Dani swore to God that from that moment, she became addicted to your lips. That’s why she threw herself into your arms, this time giving you a long, love-filled kiss, making the rest of the world fade away.

MANON BANNERMAN...

With Manon, words were always unnecessary. She knew you as well as you knew her, and anyone could have sworn you spent most of your lives together.

That’s why the first kiss was as perfect as everything you shared.

While cooking dinner, with you doing most of the work, you just had to set the plates on the table while the oven did its job. You turned around and hugged Manon. Even though cooking was fun, especially with your girlfriend, it always left you exhausted in the end.

After a long embrace, you pulled your head from her neck and looked at her—her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and finally, her lips. You stared at them for a few seconds before looking into her eyes. She smiled and leaned toward, kissing you.

It felt like time stood still, both of you lost in the kiss until the sound of the oven timer broke the moment, signaling that the food was ready. You pulled away with a laugh, looking at Manon, who was pouting slightly for being interrupted. You gave her a small peck on the lips, making a shy smile appear on her face as she set the plates on the table.

MEGAN SKIENDIEL...

Megan always felt shy around you. She had never felt the way you made her feel, and even the slightest touch between your hand and hers turned Megan into a mess—blushing, nervous, and even more shy than usual.

Megan is crazy about you, that much was certain. But what she was also sure of was that she had no idea how to kiss you.

The poor girl spent every day imagining different scenarios of how it might happen, but every time she saw you, she couldn’t help but turn into a bundle of nerves.

That’s why, when she sat on the couch, staring at your lips with her cheeks flushed a deep red, she knew it was the moment.

Slowly, she leaned in, searching your eyes for any sign of disapproval. All she found were eyes filled with love, sparkling and excited.

The kiss felt endless, and when she pulled away, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, wrapping her arms around you and hiding her face in your neck.

JEONG YOONCHAE...

Yoonchae and you were two completely lovestruck teenagers. From the very beginning, things were calm and peaceful, each step taken slowly, savoring every moment.

For both of you, this relationship thing was new, especially the kisses.

Now, Yoonchae can admit that during those moments, she overthought everything. Because as much as it was her first kiss, it was perfect, and with the person she loved.

Both of you lying in Yoonchae’s bed, cuddling and watching a romantic movie.

Neither of you needed to say anything when the main characters shared a sweet kiss under the stars. As the scene played out, you both locked eyes and shared your own soft kiss.

And when you looked at her, you felt even more in love with her (if that was even possible). Her eyes sparkling like never before and a smile stretching from ear to ear. You smiled back and kissed her cheek, while Yoonchae held you tighter. That night, you slept hugging each other, you resting on her chest, listening to her heartbeat.

we melt this love and recreate it

as we imagine it

that's how we make sunny days.

[08melancholie]

Lessen your Stress. — Dutch Van der Linde/Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Post-Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), Smut, Shameless Smut, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Sex, Spoilers, dont read if you havent finished chapter 6, theres spoilers to it that youll regret, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Mildly Dubious Consent, Abuse of Authority, Authority Figures, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Spit as Lube, Lube, Come as Lube, precum still counts i hope, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: What's one way to relieve the stress of losing your family, friends and entire gang you spent decades building? Dutch assumes it's getting his best friend to fuck his other still-devoted follower with him. It's another power trip of his you will never refuse.

a/n: initially the idea was reader and micah both trying to fight over dutch but then i was like why do we have to fightttt just let them both ruin users guts..... so here we are now. disclaimer: ive literally never written a threesome, i dont know what im doing honestly.... thank you to that one user on here who inspired this.

this is my longest fic up to date... yeah okay lets go touch grass.

words: 5,043 | AO3 LINK

A heap of shouting, spilling of secrets and killing later, the three of you regroup, all alone. Death is haunting you; you almost feel their blood on your hands, for some reason. You can't pinpoint why, but you feel guilty. Might be the fact you're still following Dutch, after he got them all killed.

Dutch might have officially lost his mind, right? You sometimes really wonder how he's made it this far, with such a good gang. Well, until now anyways. It's not until now that you notice a small flip in his head; a switch turning on for the first time. He's sat across from you, only a small fire between yourselves that lights up a small fraction of the area around you; up on a mountain, a small indent into the rocks it's built of serving as a cave of sorts. You're on the other side of the fire, laying down and watching Dutch really think for the first time, in a while. Your head is supported with the satchel you carry around your torso, visibly more uncomfortable than the plush pillows inside your old tent, now left behind. Sat behind you both is none other than Micah; staying forever loyal to the black-haired man lost in his own thoughts, his own pondering whilst his eyes illuminate the fire between your bodies. Micah is quiet; in fact, everyone is. Nobody dares say a word—not you, not Micah, especially not Dutch. Dutch doesn't feel grief, oh no; that isn't what this can be. You'd think that leaving two of your sons to die even after having the choice to save them both would make a man go crazy, but Dutch is clearly too far gone for that.

The fire crackles again, and you can't stand the silence any longer, opening your mouth to speak up. "We'll be fine, Dutch. Don't stress so much."

His head perks up from the fire, the flame-ridden irises of his catch your own. "Fine?" He repeats after your reassurance—not sounding all that reassured. You swallow and nod, always feeling so small under that dark gaze of his. "I would love to have even an ounce of your optimism." He barks, and you sink even lower. Well, it was a good try, if nothing.

He and Micah share a look, and it all goes quiet again. Fire crackles; animals howl in the distance; shrubbery whistles under the small wind blowing through the area. And all is quiet.

It seems as you'll be spending the rest of the night in here, so you decide to rest your exhausted body for today. You toss over and get as comfortably as one can, making an attempt at sleeping off the sour mood and thick tension in the air.

Your slumber only lasts you a few mere hours, both the very early morning sun picking at your eyes and gloved hands on your bare skin breaking you away from the little sleep you managed yourself. You grumble, turning to lay on your back. "Get'cho ass up," Micah, standing over you, takes a step back and moves his hands off you, the leather material slipping away from your waist. You sit up and rub your knuckles into your eyes, taking your satchel from underneath where your head was and standing up. "hoping you enjoyed Colter, darlin'." Oh, Colter; if hell was an icy, snowy blizzard, you'd assume they were talking about that part of West Grizzlies.

"Don't tell me we're going back." You hold off on groaning—only briefly as Micah nods and you can't help yourself, not at all fond of going back there again. "Why West Grizzlies, anyways?" You ask, watching him kick at the burnt-out campfire from last night.

Micah stomps out the ashy, black logs, turning back over to you with a shrug. "Dutch says so." Of course he does.

You hold back on rolling your eyes. "He at least in a better mood than yesterday?" You ask, very much still remembering his bite back to your simple attempt at making the situation you three were currently in a little more bearable. Micah starts walking off while talking to you, and you follow close behind, leaving the makeshift cave.

"Wouldn't put ma' money on it," He responds, voice getting quieter the closer he leads you towards Dutch—smoking a cigar, per the usual—and your three horses. "don't test yer luck, hm?" He gives a low chuckle, and you just sigh. Snow; low temperatures; blizzards; all things you wanted to leave and forget in Colter. But, here you were.

Dutch gives an acknowledging nod to both of you, which you swiftly return. "We ready to go, then?" Micah gives him another nod, and walks up to Baylock. You follow to your own horse, petting it briefly before getting up onto the saddle, mounting up as the two of them soon do the same.

The three of you start the long journey back up towards the mountains; almost feeling that familiar deja-vu-feeling kicking in.

The ride is long and definitely not friendly; the moment your horses get you to the snow, the wind picks up and so does the snow, plowing down on all six of you. It's almost unbearably annoying, having to ride with one hand on your reins and one covering the top of your eyebrows to block out the snow from your vision. It's only a long while later that the three of you get up on the snow-covered mountain of your liking, finding an abandoned area with a cabin, definitely big enough for the three of you, for now.

The three of you hitch your horses safely into a small stable-like area, making sure they wouldn't be cold in their spots. Afterwards, one after another, you enter the cabin and inspect it; it's a medium-sized hut-type room, a few cots still stable enough to sleep in and a kitchen on the other side, most cabinets left open and empty. Mere minutes of searching left you with a few cans of fruit and vegetables, but between you three, hunting will definitely be a must for nourishment. At least theres a run-down fireplace you can use to warm up your shivering bodies. Dutch sends Micah to get firewood, instructing you to work with him and make the place look a bit less messy. And, three of you get to work.

It isn't exactly homey, but it'll do. Can't be picky now, can you? You had a home, and it was Dutch's own fault everything at 'home' went to shit.

It's been about a week since, and you've gotten used to the spot you three settled into, you could even start calling it home. Well, no—nothing will ever replace the home that the gang provided, but that's something you'll have to simply cope with. You're still following Dutch, so really, do you miss them that much? Your trail of thought is broken up by the sound of the creaky cabin door opening, raising the volume of the small blizzard going on outside briefly.

Dutch and Micah enter after another, closing the door of the small cabin and blocking out the sound of wind outside. Your head perks up from the small book you were examining at the sound, and you nod in greeting. "Hey," Your gaze goes back to the book until Dutch clicks his tongue at you.

"Eyes up here."

You don't take even a second to comply, meeting his eyes but occasionally drifting them to Micah. You're slightly confused, they're acting odd. "You need something, Dutch?"

"Stand up."

Every command sends a small shiver to your spine, that much is sure. You place the book down and rise from your seat on the creaky cot, taking a step towards them to stand before the two men. Your compliance and submissiveness always sends one side of Dutch's mouth up slightly. "Got a.. proposition for you. Well... Not exactly, anyways." Micah matches Dutch's dark chuckle after the leader speaks up again, both looking down at you. "Listen now, it's been pretty cold, hasn't it, my dear?" As Dutch speaks to you, your eyes stay glued on him; but you can see Micah taking slow steps away from the leader, and around you. You focus on Dutch again, nodding. "That's what we thought. You see," He then takes a step closer to you, gloved hands clasping together in front of you. "we can keep ourselves warm without wasting so much firewood." At Dutch's words, you can definitely feel Micah so much closer to you, from behind your back. You're starting to feel something bubble in your abdomen; was it nervousness, anxiety? Lust, arousal? You couldn't exactly tell.

"Tell me, my dear," Another two steps; one in front of you, one behind you. You feel like you're being circled by sharks in an ocean, hunters on prey, making you feel small again. "you're a smart girl; you do know what I mean, don't you?" Oh, you do. You know it all too well as you've imagined it one too many times—late at night in your tent, your hands on yourself underneath the blanket, muffling the moans of their names into your palm—so it's not an unfamiliar feeling. Your words seem to only fail you further the more he speaks, so you just nod again. His moustache follows the curve of his lips when that devilish smirk arises again. "Thought so. Now..."

His gloves glide over your shoulders, leather on leather as he stands right in front of you now. "And surely, you wouldn't mind trying this new warm-up with us, would you?"

Like a cat playing with a mouse it's caught, toying with it until it breaks. Except, it's two big cats and one meek little mouse. A hot breath glides down to you, right over your shoulder when Micah draws himself closer, and you feel stuck in your spot between them—even more so when Micah places his gloved hands down to your sides, almost kneading at your waist. Now, how could you ever say no? It's Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell. For one, you've been imagining this scenario in the comfort of your tent, late into the many nights that turned very hot, very quickly. But also, do you really have a choice? Your boss; your leader, asking such a vulgar and intimate thing of you? What would he say if you refused? Would he let you refuse? Is this all another power-trip he'll hold over your head?

No time for questions when Micah squeezes your waist to bring you back to reality. "He asked 'ya a question, doll." He purrs—its low and sultry, right next to your ear, accompanied by another knead to your body. You feel almost lightheaded by your current situation. Your hands have been unconsciously balled-up, digging into your trousers in an attempt to ground yourself. "C'mon, answer the man." And all you can manage is a nod, again. A moan would probably leave your mouth if you opened it, which.. would also be an answer. Your nod was really all it took, a silent consent more than enough for Micah's hands to travel to your hips and for Dutch's to find the sides of your neck.

"Good girl, always listening to me like this. I know you wouldn't disobey."

The feeling is indescribable, really—Micah touches you with urgency and carelessness, almost selfishly and greedily; his hands map out the contour of your body, almost as if trying to mould your curves to his liking. Dutch, however, takes it hellishly slow; thumbs brush over the front of your neck while the tips of his other fingers dig into the sides, almost as if trying to coax you to relax into whatever they have planned for you. "Oh, she's good, boss." Whenever Micah speaks, it ends up right next to your ear, and you feel that familiar shiver down your spine. An agreeing chuckle leaves Dutch's mouth, which is very close to your face; your own lips. You're clueless as to what you have to do—should you stay stiff? Touch one of them? Say anything at all to their comments and wandering touches?

Dutch's slow pace slips up when he can't hold himself back from giving himself a taste of yourself, dipping his head down to latch onto your lips. It's nice and quick, and your hands find themselves creeping up his coat and resting on his shoulders, whereas his move under your jacket and place themselves on your ribs and under your chest. Micah is pressed right up to your back now, one hand leaves your hip to move your hair away from your neck, sliding your jacket collar down as he starts to pepper the side of your neck in kisses, occasionally sucking on the skin while pressing his hips to your backside—you can already feel him through both of your clothes. Dutch takes a moment to lick your lip, coaxing you to open your mouth up for him. You comply and your lips part an opening for Dutch's tongue, hands squeezing at his shoulders.

His tongue explores around your mouth with profound efficiency; with experience. It makes the feeling in your abdomen all the more prominent, and you slowly feel a heat rushing to it. Micah isn't any worse either, the mixture of his gentle kisses, rough sucks and sometimes licks up your neck all make you more worked up than you'd ever want to imagine. He's still pressed up to your rear, hands at the very top of your outer thighs, roughly handling you like previously. Then, Dutch starts unbuttoning your jacket. Slowly, each one gets undone, and your jackets pools between yours and Micah's boots, who carefully kicks it aside, just to continue marking up your neck. His stubble and beard occasionally brushes against your sensitive neck, making you let out little sounds into Dutch's mouth. Oh, how they're enjoying this.

Dutch momentarily breaks away from you, leaving you to finally breathe in. "You know, I always liked how you followed me so blindly," Dutch's hands move up and brush over your chest, then cup both of the muscles. "it was so damn hard to not take you right then and there, in camp." You gasp and sigh when his hands start massaging and fondling you. This much foreplay has never gotten you so worked up in your life, and you can definitely feel the dampness between your legs growing with each moment. Then, Micah's hands move. They're getting impatient, seen so by the man behind you who starts groping your rear, breathing oh-so-sweetly down your neck. "I'mma have my fun with'chu, sweet thin'." His hums have goosebumps running up your body. His hands squeeze your ass a final time before moving, sliding down onto your inner thighs. You almost think that he can tell how wet you are, from the low laugh he lets out into your neck.

Impatience really overtakes both of them when they break away and start stripping. Coats, vests, undershirts, trousers; all the many layers you need to survive the coldness of West Grizzlies. Once they're almost bare, left in their underpants, they walk to one of the cots and coax you to follow, taking a seat next to each other and gesturing for you to stand in front of them. "Your turn, my dear." Dutch commands, leaning back slightly.

"Make sure to give us a good show, darlin'." Micah adds, following Dutch and also leaning back. And a good show, they shall receive. You start with your undershirt, slowly and almost teasingly unbuttoning it, exposing yourself inch by inch, moment by moment. "Oh, she's good." Micah purrs to Dutch, looking at you intently and never breaking his eyes away from your body. Dutch gives an agreeing hum, nodding to the other mans' words as you move to your jeans, shrugging your undershirt off while undoing the restraints of your jeans. You slip them off and toss both clothing articles to your jacket, standing in only your garments, now only covering your chest and mound. Their eyes are still so predatory, it's almost killing you. Then, finally, Dutch gestures with his hand for you to move closer, and you step up right in front of them. They part slightly to the side, and Micah pats the space between them on the bed. You understand instantly and comply just as quickly, sitting between them now. "Attagirl... how'd 'ya train 'er to listen so well, boss?"

Neither of them say more, as Micah leans in to get his lips onto yours himself now, kissing you with speed and want; need. Dutch's hands go to your back, fiddling with your bra to get it off of you. Oh, but the best part is Micah's hands; one reaches down between your legs instantly, swiping across your slit over your undergarments. "Oh shit, 'yer this damn wet already?" Both men laugh in sync, dark and low chuckles filling the cabin. His fingers find your clit under the fabric and start rubbing, coaxing you to moan into his mouth which you do. He loves how your meek little gasps and whimpers echo down his throat, and he rubs faster. The other hand of his tangles itself in your hair, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Dutch finally undoes your bra clasps, working it off of you without disturbing Micah and his workings on you. Your bra is tossed elsewhere, and one of Dutch's hands instantly finds your chest, fondling one while latching his mouth onto the other. Your hands grip one shoulder of theirs each, nails digging into the skin as your moans vibrate into Micahs mouth, hips already twitching into his two fingers working your bundle of nerves perfectly. Micah only breaks himself off your lips for a brief moment, "Can't wait to see this pretty cunt stretch around me." his mouth is back on yours, and the sentence alone has you grinding into his two fingers. Where's your dignity now?

Dutch's lips kiss around your nipple, teeth graze and pull oh-so-perfectly, and you already feel like you're close. They handle you with very different paces and things in mind; Micah is clearly trying to humiliate, get you to cum for him as quick as he can to give his ego a boost. Dutch however, he's now teasing; torturously slow pace on both of your tits, yet it works you up just as well as Micah's finger and mouth. And both are equally as blissful.

"Think she's ready for us?" Micah slows his fingers down and moves away from your lips to Dutch's question.

"Oh, surely, see how she's try'na fuck herself on my fingers? Poor, little thing. Bet she wants more."

"Well," Dutch leans away from your chest, standing to get his undergarments off. It's not long before Micah follows, and you can barely look at them; nude as the days they were born, with two almost equally as big cocks twitching for you, some precum at both their tips. It's a sight. "reckon she knows what she has to do—" He turns from Micah to yourself. "—doesn't she?" You swallow. Call it practice for what's to come, literally.

You shuffle off of the bed, and your knees meet the wood floors. Their grins down at you leave your panties practically leaking your own arousal. Looking between them, unsure where to start, you choose the leader—obviously. You get on-level with his hips, placing your hands on his thighs. "Oh, now don't leave my partner out, my dear." Dutch takes one of your hands by the wrist, guiding it to Micah's lower abdomen. "Show us both some love, baby." You can barely breathe at this point, and your hands might even be trembling slightly. Now, you've given maybe one blowjob/handjob in your life; but both, at the same time? This is overwhelming. Nonetheless, can't disappoint your boss, now can you? You push your thoughts down and slide your hand around Micah's shaft, running your thumb over his precum-covered tip to slicken it slightly, while simultaneously licking a stripe up the underside of Dutch's cock, collecting the leaky substance for a taste. Their faces are full of arousal and pure bliss, they almost make you feel proud. Dutch raises a hand to run through your hair, tugging on it. "We're old, impatient men, my darlin'. Get to it."

You take half of Dutch in your mouth, and start pumping your hand up and down Micah, earning a few praising groans and another tug to your hair, trying to draw you closer. You take Dutch until he hits the back of your mouth, and you barely suppress gagging on him. Don't need to inflate his ego that much. You move and bob your head, saliva slickening Dutch's dick up and painting your lips, some gathering at the corners of your mouth. Your hand works Micah in a slightly faster pace, seeing as it's easier to pump your hand over his shaft than take one in your mouth—especially one Dutch's size. You're used to average men, so this might as well even be nice. Not so much when he'll be stretching you open, but we'll get to that problem later. You continue your demonstrations, getting both of them to groan and even chuckle sometimes, looking down at you. They always looked down at you, you knew so much—but only ever figuratively. Never literally.

It's not long before Dutch grabs your head and just fucks himself into your mouth at his pace, which makes it easier to focus on your hand that's working Micah. You increase the pace of your hand, occasionally teasing the tip to see it twitch before continuing. "Wouldn't be surprised if you was a whore before 'ya joined us, so good at this." Micah's comment should make you mad, but you're definitely more turned on than anything. "Keep working dem pretty fingers around me, 'm close." And you absolutely will.

Dutch, however, doesn't give you a warning like Micah; he suddenly cums down your throat with a groan, and you have to focus on not gagging all over his dick as it empties itself out into your mouth, and you swallow every drop like if it were holy water. Unfortunately, you're not given a breather when he withdraws his hips from your mouth, as Micah pulls your hand away from his cock and brings your closer to it, grasping your jaw and squeezing so that your lips part. "Open." You don't feel like being painted all over with his cum, so you comply instantly, and he jerks himself a few times before spilling into your mouth like Dutch, your hands finding his thighs to brace yourself.

"Damn, she's good." Dutch seats himself back on the cot with a small creak, palming himself—somehow still semi-hard. Micah lets go of your jaw after he's spent, and you can't stop yourself from coughing as you swallow practically every drop, only a few around your mouth still. Micah chuckles down at you before grabbing you by the sides, his hands grasping your waist as he brings you back to your feet. "Come on then, you ain't done yet, or are 'ya, babydoll?" You're guided over to Dutch, turned to face him as both men help position you over him to straddle the leader. Micah's hands are replaced by Dutch's ones, who immediately moves your panties off and guides your folds around his shaft to slicken himself up again. "Still practically dripping. Oh, you poor thing. We won't be selfish no longer, my dear, you shall get your own, too." His tip slides to your entrance, and you have to grasp his shoulders to keep yourself steady, your lips slightly parted in pleasure. Slowly, Dutch's tip presses into you, and you squeak out a moan as you feel that small stretch you were dreading. "I'll go slow, don't wanna split our new toy in half, do we darling?" Well, that's exactly how you're feeling, oddly enough.

You're gasping and moaning as every inch of his disappears into your slick walls, the lewd noises mixing with Dutch's small praise and breathy exhales as you sink down on his cock, feeling it twitch inside you a few times. "Good girl, taking all of me like that." He gives you a moment to adjust before lifting your hips up and slamming right back down, earning a strained moan out of you, nail indents marking his shoulders up as they dig into the flesh, which just makes him laugh. "Love how tight you are, like it's sucking me right in. Your cunt loves me stretching you out, huh." His hips slowly begin to slap against you, filling the cabin with the suggestive noises of skin-on-skin and moans.

As you finally get used to his size, you feel hands on your waist from behind. You almost forgot Micah was there, seeing how quiet he was being. Then, one hand trails down to your rear, and a thumb circles your anus. "Can't leave me out again, can 'ya?" His thumb slowly draws itself into you, and you have to bite down on Dutch's shoulder. Jesus, you did not expect them to try and fuck you at the exact same time, even less from behind. He briefly extracts his thumb to spit at your entrance, circle it and then stick it right back in, trying to loosen your muscles up for his—much fucking bigger, may you add—member. They find a similar pace, Dutch is rutting you down onto his dick while Micah's thumb stretches your other hole out, readying it for his cock which is already leaking in anticipation. You brace yourself when he moves his thumb out and spits again, this time on his own cock to moisten it up again, mixing the saliva with his precum. Then, his tip slaps against your ass a few times, before it slides to your opening. Dutch has slowed his thrusts down to let Micah get in as well, and you haven't stopped biting at his shoulder since you started, almost drooling around it. Even if it's only the tip, as soon as Micah eases it in, you shudder and gasp into Dutch's flesh, biting down harder as your asshole feels every little stretch it's getting from Micah's thick cock. Thankfully, it's sliding in somewhat-easily after a few moments, Dutch's hands squeezing your hips as he shushes you to relax you, and Micah's caressing your backside as he slowly sinks into you.

The first thrust is the worst, obviously. You almost immediately shiver when Micah slowly slips out of you, to the tip, before drawing his hips right against your ass again. Dutch coos into your ear to keep you collected as Micah gets you used to his size, kissing your slightly sweaty spine briefly. "Come on, 'ya can take me, girlie." He sinks his whole length into you, almost as breathless as you. Then, they slowly find a synced pace and fuck into you from both holes as you gasp against Dutch's shoulder and shudder into him. "We'll let'cha cum too, don't worry doll." Micah slides a hand over to your abdomen, and his thumb circles your clit once more. You're on cloud nine—hell, you've never been high, but it's probably similar to this feeling. Your holes are tight around their cocks, all three now audibly gasping and moaning in sync. It's possibly the lewdest trio you've ever heard. With how they're thrusting into you, you're reduced to a goddamn mess; gasping, moaning their names, your cunt and anus tightening and squeezing, your mouth open and tongue slightly sticking out—you look like a dog, almost. Their bitch, that's for sure. From now on, anyways. You don't see how this could ever be a one-time-thing.

You can feel your orgasm building again, and you've honestly been doing pretty well, all things considered. "Can't cum in that pretty cunt, but I can back here." Micah's comment runs goosebumps over your body, and you already dread the feeling of that. His breath brushes over your skin as he kisses up your back again, reaching the nape of your neck and grazing his teeth over it, all while his hips slam into your ass. Dutch is stroking your sides, his cock twitching even more inside you. He's close—Micah's close—you're close—you might all just come at the same time.

That's exactly how it goes down. You're first to hit your orgasm, one that causes you to squeeze around their cocks once more, which is enough for both of them to hit their peaks with you, Micah staying buried deep in your guts while Dutch pulls out and jerks himself dry over your mound and his stomach, gasping for air in sync with you. Micah draws his spent member out of your asshole slowly, some of his cum leaking out and down your thigh. He takes a breather on your back and hugs around your waist, heaving into your spine. Your body relaxes over Dutch's, who can barely hold all three of you up. It takes all three of you a moment of no movement to calm down from your highs, before Micah is first to move off your back and help you off Dutch, slowly seating you next to him. "Well, goddamn, princess. Dutch was right; 'ya didn't disappoint for even a moment." He hums, getting to the nightstand and tossing a rag over your stomach. He shuts the drawer and sits down next to you, cleaning Dutch's spent off of your stomach while you gather your thoughts, before wiping his shaft and tossing it over to Dutch.

"I'm sure you know we aren't leaving you be after that performance, my dear." Dutch adds as he wipes him self clean, and you just wordlessly nod, laying back slightly. "I guessed so." He chuckles, and Micah chimes in with his own breathy laugh, standing to walk over and grab everyone's clothes, giving them out to you and Dutch before starting to get dressed himself.

And you're damn sure you won't want to stop anytime soon either.

Kudos on AO3 appreciated, as always! This fic killed me omg its my longest one up to date and its got me in a chokehold. fuck i wanna be between them so bad.

[megamindsecretlair]

So Full of Love

Pairing: Dom!Big Stunna x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) fingering, (female receiving) , use of sex toys, orgasm control, teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. ONE SHOT!!!

Summary: Stunna comes home late one night and finds out that you haven't eaten all day.

Word Count: 5,208k

A/N: I could not get this out of my mind. Maybe it's the full moon, maybe it's Maybelline. I'm definitely exposing myself and this is definitely self-indulgent, but I hope you enjoy! How'd this taglist get so long??? LOVE YALL! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @melaninpov @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @thedonsfactory @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @cardi-bre91 @jay-mach

You backspaced on the draft you were currently working on, not liking your word choice. Had you used it too many times in a short span of time? Probably. 

You groaned. You were probably thinking too much but it couldn’t be helped. You needed it to match whatever scene was playing in your head between your two characters. You could see it so clearly. But it lost its luminesce by the time it traveled from your brain to your fingers. The edges weren’t shiny, they weren't perfect.

“Baby?” 

“Room!” You called out. You hadn’t heard the door opening and closing but that wasn’t unusual. When you were in the middle of one of your writing fugue states, you had no sense of your surroundings. A burglar could rob you blind while you were writing and you would be none the wiser. 

Stunna’s heavy footsteps traveled down the short hallway to your room. He stopped in the doorway. You glanced at him with a smile. “Hey baby,” you said.

“You are so damn cute, you know that?” He asked.

You giggled and shook your head. There was a burning need to continue. To keep going and ride your train of thought to the very end. However, it was hard to focus once Stunna was in the room. He occupied your thoughts on a near obsession level. He took up the whole room even when he was partially in it.

You glanced at him again, wearing a white polo and jeans, gold chain around his neck. He looked good enough to eat and your thoughts naturally drifted to what he had in store for you tonight. 

“You’re cute,” you said with a yawn. You rubbed your eyes. Now that you weren’t in a fugue state, your check engine light came on.

Your body creaked as you stretched, rolled your neck, cracked your knuckles. “Shit,” you groaned as you stretched again. Your muscles protested from sitting for so long. A random ache in your foot from laying it on its side. 

“You been writing all day?” He asked.

“Yeah, I had a dream that, like, completely fixed my plot hole!” You said. You grinned at him, excited about your idea. 

Your stomach grumbled, you had to pee, and your wrist was starting to burn. Everything you ignored for the past few hours was coming back to bite you in the ass. 

“You drink some water?” Stunna asked. He leaned back against the door frame, cocking his head to the side. Your body instantly reacted to how fucking fine he was. Your mind went on a little trip, imagining peeling his clothes off of him.

Stunna chuckled. “Babe? Water,” he said, his voice getting deeper. 

You pouted. “I promise I’ve had water. All sixty-four ounces like we agreed,” you said. You grinned, proud of yourself for remembering to take your breaks and get some water. You were even able to pick up your train of thought after and continue with your writing. 

He grinned, showing off a set of grills that were solid gold on his canines and hollow across his top row. It gave the illusion of a vampire and now your mind offered images of being underneath him while he sunk fangs into your neck. 

“Good. How was your lunch?” He asked.

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him that the ravioli he made for you was absolutely perfect like always. But then you got a furrow in your brow as you thought about what you did today. And eating was not one of them.

You looked away from him, sure the guilt was written all over your face. In the downturn of your lips and the widening of your eyes. 

“About that…” you said slowly. 

Stunna made a dissatisfied grunt and you continued to look everywhere but at him. Did you eat it? You would have remembered? 

You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to remember what you did today. During your breaks, you refilled your water and you did some light stretching. Really, you were just too anxious to return to the idea. You had been proud that you remembered the water, that he wasn’t going to be upset with you about it. 

Hell, sometimes it was just hard to remember to eat. Your relationship with food was tumultuous at best. Toxic at worst. 

“Did you or did you not eat your lunch?” Stunna asked. 

You sighed. “No,” you admitted. Shit. You were on track to do everything right today. 

“Look at me,” he commanded.

It took you a couple of tries, but you turned your gaze towards him. Oh, he was pissed. His nostrils were slightly flared and his grin was gone, replaced with a disapproving look that you didn’t like to see. Well, at least when it was aimed at you. 

“I’m sorry! I forgot!” You said. Your eyes turned round, bottom lip poking out. “I’ll eat it right now!” You said.

“I know you will. What did we say about you eating?,” he said.

“I didn’t think about it,” you said. 

His face didn’t change. He continued to look at you like he didn’t know what he was going to do with you and your lack of self-preservation. You truly didn’t do it intentionally. Sometimes, you didn’t want to eat. Or feel like eating. Your screaming stomach told you that you needed to. But you always had something more interesting to do.

“Go handle business and meet me in the kitchen,” he said. He left without another word. No parting pleasantries or insights to what he was thinking. This punishment was going to be worse than last time. You could feel it in your bones.

You took care of business in the bathroom, washed your hands, and then came out to the kitchen. The smell of ravioli filled up the kitchen and Stunna stood in front of the microwave, watching the plate spin round and around.

You stood next to the table, nerves skittering throughout your body. His shoulders were sloped, head cocked to the side, and hands resting behind him on the tile countertop. You studied his profile.

Sometimes you had to pinch yourself that he was yours forever. There usually wasn’t certainty when it came to relationships. But not yours. There were zero doubts between you. Like your souls were written in the heavens before you found each other in this life. 

The microwave beeped, pulling you from your poetic mind. Stunna grabbed the plate from the microwave, a paper towel, and a fork and came into the room. He didn’t smile when he noticed you were in the room. 

Guilt tore your tummy up. He went through so much trouble to make you delicious meals every day, sometimes snacks and dessert as well if he had time, and you couldn’t remember to eat it. 

He placed the plate onto the table and pulled out the bench seat that sat against the wall. He sat down, leg extended off the edge of it, and turned to look at you. 

“Off,” he said. 

You suppressed a whine as you began to slowly take off your oversized gray T-shirt, some ratty thing that you stole from him. But it was soft and smelled like him and you practically lived in it. Your shorts were next, panties as well because you knew that was going to be his next command. Before long, you were completely nude while he was fully dressed. 

He patted his knee and you sat down on it. Stunna grabbed a box that had been sitting on the table that you didn’t see. Your heart rate spiked seeing the plain blue wicker box as he slid it across the table. 

He opened it, making noises with his mouth as if this were a simple dinner. As if he were waiting for you to sit down beside him and discuss the weather or latest TV show. He rummaged around in the box and you wondered what he would bring out. 

He waved his fingers, deciding. The anticipation tore your insides to shreds. Your breathing increased watching his hand skate over various sex toys. He finally plucked the nipple clamps out. Shit. 

You played with your fingers while he kissed your neck. “Relax,” he said.

“I can’t! You’re killing me!” You said.

“Punishments ain’t supposed to be fun, baby,” he said. 

“It was an accident!” You said.

“Once is an accident. You conveniently forget too often to not be on purpose,” he said. 

He hummed while he put the nipple clamps on you. You sighed as the clamp put pressure on your nipples. A chain dangled in between, lightly knocking against your chest every time you breathed. You instantly felt it echo as a throb in your pussy. You gripped your thighs trying to get used to the pain. 

You took deep breaths. Steam rose from the ravioli and the smell was making your mouth water. No, punishments were not supposed to be fun but you couldn’t help wondering if Stunna didn’t secretly enjoy it when you skipped meals. If he wasn’t sometimes hoping that you did so he could try out all kinds of different punishments on you. 

Next, he selected a pair of handcuffs. “Aw, baby no!” You said. 

“What?” He asked. He turned your head towards him by pinching your chin. He forced your eyes towards his. His cold, cold brown eyes, like a hibernating bear, merely stared at you. 

“Please! I’ll do better,” you pleaded with him. 

“I wish I could believe that. Hands,” he said. 

You pouted some more while you pulled your hands behind you. He leaned back and secured the handcuffs to your wrists. The fuzzy inside tickled your skin but you weren’t in a laughing mood. You wanted to touch him while you ate. You hadn’t seen him all day. 

He yanked on the chain in between the handcuffs, making sure they couldn’t come off. Then he pulled on the nipple clamps and you hissed at the tug of pain. “How you feeling?” He asked and kissed your shoulder.

“I’m good,” you said. 

Stunna nodded and picked up the fork, grabbing a piece of food. He blew on it lightly to cool it off more and brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth. It was easier to obey him now than face his wrath later. 

“Tell me about your day,” he asked you while you ate.

While he fed you, you had to concentrate on not cumming and telling him about your day. You ran some errands, you took your breaks and drank water, and did some laundry. He listened to it all as if it were his favorite news program. That your little mundane life meant the world to him.

It was a small act that only made you fall more in love with him. He didn’t have to do all that. He could be happy with the simple version of events. But he once told you that he liked listening to the sound of your voice. The way you lit up when you got on the subject of your writing.

“What was the plot hole you fixed earlier?” He asked. He fed you another bite and waited till you finished chewing. You told him how your dream helped you fix it. That it wasn’t a problem with the character’s actions, it was the setting. You were married to the setting, but sometimes you had to kill your darlings. It hurt, but it was needed.

Stunna licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, pussy throbbing from the swipe of his tongue. “Almost done, you’re doing so well, baby,” he said.

The praise made your heart soar. You shifted on his thigh and he yanked on the chain between the handcuffs to keep you in place. You were eager. Restless and too ready to feel him. You were needy for his touches. You couldn’t touch any part of him like this. 

He was clothed so you couldn’t feel his skin on yours. Your hands were tied so your fingers couldn’t search for his. 

There was a nice little wet spot growing on his jeans underneath you. You felt it every time he bounced his knee to help you concentrate. 

He kissed your cheek and began to tell you about his day. About all the bullshit he had to put up with. He figured that you were writing when you didn’t text him back and he told you that he’d been dreaming about getting back between your legs. 

“The things I was gon’ do to you tonight,” he purred in your ear, sealing it off with a kiss. 

“You still can,” you said. 

“Naw, we gotta do better about eating. I worry about you,” he said. The fork scraped against the bottom of the plate as he grabbed the last bite. He brought it to your lips and you opened your mouth. Your tongue dashed out to lick up every drop of sauce. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Stunna’s eyes zero in on your mouth. A quiet sigh escaped him. 

You looked down and could see the imprint of his dick straining against his zipper. If only your hands were free, you could help him out with that. 

You swallowed your food and nodded. “I don’t mean to make you worry,” you said. 

“But I do when you don’t eat or take care of yourself. I need you here with me,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

“You gotta eat consistently,” he said. He shook his head. He placed the fork back on the plate and faced you. He wrapped his hands around your waist, linking his fingers together. 

You didn’t know how he did it. How he made you feel so small and dainty in his arms. You were a big girl, proud of it. You had your issues, but you ain’t get this tummy for no reason. You liked to eat and enjoyed food. It just wasn’t a priority to you. 

He leaned in and kissed you properly. His big lips covered yours and kissed you slowly, methodically. He treasured you with sucking your bottom lip and tongue delving inside, tangling with yours.

Each kiss turned you on more and more. You would never look at ravioli the same. Every time you’d run across it now, you’d think of this. Of the burning neediness in your veins. 

As he kissed you, he untangled his fingers and drew his right hand across your belly. “You nice and full?” He asked.

You nodded. Breathed him in. “Yes, Daddy,” you said. His fingers moved lower, in between your legs, and lightly drew his fingers around your clit.

You gasped against his lips. A few more swipes of that and you’d cum on the spot. You moved your hips, trying to get him to keep playing with your clit. To tell him without words that you were close. 

He licked his thumb and returned it to your clit, drawing tight little circles that made your mouth drop open on a strangled moan. He kissed along the length of your neck, swirling his tongue every so often. It tickled, but you were far too focused on what his hand was doing. You hissed as your pussy throbbed, so close. So close. Almost. Your body tensed, ready for it, ready for the pleasure.

Stunna moved his hand. “No!” You cried out. Your pussy ached and you panted, brain not comprehending that you weren’t about to cum. 

“It’s cute that yo ass think I was gon’ let you cum,” he said. He continued to kiss along your neck. You felt your orgasm retreating, backing away from the edge. You sighed and dropped your head back. 

“I’m sorry!” You said. 

“Mhm, I know you are,” he said. He continued about his business, kissing and licking against your skin. There was nothing you could do. Nothing you could say. He would not listen to your apologies. He was only about action. 

You’d have to set alarms or some shit. As much as you loved the way he played with your body, you loved it more when you could touch him back. You wanted to run your hands across his scalp. You wanted to twist your fingers between his. Or unzip his pants and wrap your lips around his dick. 

You couldn’t do any of that with your hands behind you. He knew it too. He knew how much you loved giving him pleasure. 

He licked his fingers and then tugged on the chain of the nipple clamps. You hissed at the bite. The ache had retreated to the back of your mind until he yanked like that. “Still good?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said. 

“That’s my good girl,” he said. He kissed your cheek and then helped you stand. “Go wait for me in the living room.” 

You walked to the living room and then knelt on the paisley carpet. It was soft beneath your knees. You heard Stunna as he moved around the kitchen, washing the plate and fork. He moved towards the bedroom, you think, until he emerged in his soft gray briefs. 

Your mouth watered taking in his body. He worked hard on it, ensuring that he looked good and felt good. Narrow hips. But a round ass that you loved to grab. He had legs for days with his tall ass. He towered over you like a skyscraper from this vantage point. 

He petted your head while he walked around you carrying the box from the table. He sat down on the couch and widened his stance. He took his time turning on the TV, flipping through channels. You bit your lip as you watched him. 

This was so damn unfair. This punishment was worse than watching him get himself off without you. You had to listen to him groan and grunt and close his eyes while he painted his cum on your body like a canvas. 

He found a sports program, getting invested in the game while he rubbed the back of your neck. You didn’t know who was playing or what the fuck the announcer was saying. Your eyes were glued to his dick. 

You rubbed your cheek against his knee, light hair there tickling your face. He didn’t stop you from moving closer, settling against his leg more fully. He turned his attention to you with a little smile. You saw a hint of his grill. You were so fucking wet. You needed him to make his point so that you could cum. 

“This wouldn’t entirely be part of your punishment, but you are too damn cute sitting there,” he said. “You gon’ look cuter with my dick in your mouth.”

“Please,” you whispered. 

He licked his lips as he took in your prone form. His eyes dropped down, down, down as if he could see straight to your pussy. He grabbed his briefs and lowered it enough to free his dick.

You smiled. He was hard as a brick. Thick head leaking precum already. He stroked himself a few times and groaned softly. “Come here and please Daddy,” he said.

You moved between his legs, leaning up onto the couch. He guided his dick into your mouth and groaned at the contact. You sucked him down as far as you could, moaning a bit at the taste of him. That salty and spicy mix of his scent. The feel of the tip of his dick against your tongue. 

You looked up at him and he finally grinned. “Don’t look at me like that girl, gon’ make me nut early,” he said. 

You continued to look at him, moving your head up and down. You drooled on him, getting his dick wetter and wetter. Your slurps began to compete with the sound of the game. You sloppily sucked him down, licking underneath the head, and then swallowing him down.

“Fuck, look at you being so good for me,” he said.

You moaned. You kept bobbing your head, wanting to fit all of him inside. You hadn’t managed to do so thus far in your relationship but practice made perfect. Your eyes flicked from his veiny dick to his eyes as he watched you please him.

You watched for any variation on his face. Any hint that he was close to busting. He licked his lips when you took him deeper. He hissed when you played with the tip with your tongue. The chain that dangled between your titties cold against your chest, blasting you with awareness every time it slapped your skin. 

He groaned, cursing under his breath. He moved his hips, fucking into your mouth. You moved closer. His dick poked the inside of your mouth, your cheeks, and threatened to make you gag. 

“Fuck, baby. Needed this. Needed you,” he moaned. 

You watched the muscles in his chest and arms contract. Watched his stomach rise and fall in quick bursts. He grabbed your neck and squeezed. You groaned. You licked his dick like a lollipop before suckling him back in. 

He jerked and then laughed. “Fuck, I’m finna bust,” he groaned. A second later, his dick pulsed as jets of cum filled your mouth. You swallowed him down with a moan. Some escaped your mouth. He gathered it up with his thumb and pressed it into your mouth. You suckled his thumb too as if you were still sucking his dick. 

“So fucking sexy,” he said. 

He kissed you. Big, wet, sloppy kisses. He bit your bottom lip and you groaned. “Please, let me cum,” you begged. 

“Not done with your punishment yet,” he said. 

You whined. “Please! I need you inside me, Daddy,” you said. 

He nuzzled your nose and placed tiny kisses all over your face. You sighed with a small hum. Why was he so damn cute? And hot? And just gorgeous all around? Sometimes it felt like you were so full of love, you could survive off of it like sweet nectar. You didn’t want for anything as long as love filled you and surrounded you. 

“I can be nicer when you start being nicer to yourself,” he said. 

“I will! I promise!” 

“I know you will, baby,” he said. He told you to take deep breaths while he took the nipple clamps off. You were prepared for it, but it still hurt like a motherfucker. You hissed as he released each one. He discarded the clamps onto the coffee table, ready to be cleaned later. 

He helped you stand and then sit in his lap, facing him. His dick rubbed against your folds and you groaned. You straddled him, putting your titties directly in his face. 

He leaned down and began to lick away the sting from the clamps. “Oh fuck!” You moaned. 

Waves and waves of pleasure suffused you. Your whole body shivered from the delicious, torturous swipes of his tongue on your aching nipples. He moved back and forth, getting both nice and wet. The sting from the clamps began to dissipate. But the roaring fire deep in your belly only got worse and worse.

He tugged and pulled on your nipples, hands gripping onto your ass and squeezing. Was it possible to die from too much pleasure? You felt like you were going to pass out if he kept this up. 

You were making desperate, wild sounds as he took his pleasure from your body. His hands moved up and down your back, wiping away goosebumps. He kneaded your skin all over. He touched as much of your body as he could. 

“How you feelin’ baby?” He asked.

“Feel, ah, so good,” you whispered.

“How’s your arms?” He asked.

“Good, they don’t hurt,” you said. There was enough slack between them that your arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off. Stunna smirked against your skin. 

He stood with you in his arms. You yelped. “I got you, I got you,” he said into your chest. He helped you onto the couch, onto your knees. You couldn’t hold yourself up, so your face was mushed against the couch cushion opposite where he sat.

You heard him rummaging around the box until he made a satisfied sound. There was a soft click and then he pushed the vibrator against your clit. You cried out, ass lifting higher as if you could escape him, as he pushed the vibrator closer. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried. Your legs shook. He placed one hand on your back and pushed you down, pushed you to stay still and accept what he was doing to you.

“Yo ass gon’ eat from now on, right?” He asked.

“Yes! Yes! I promise!” He pressed the vibrator into your clit and you were shaking in earnest now. You were..so…close…

He moved it away and you screamed out. Tears gathered in your eyes. Your lower belly hurt at this point. You couldn’t take all this damn edging. 

Stunna leaned down and pushed his tongue into your entrance. “Oh SHIT!” You moaned. Stunna slapped your ass, moaned, and then moved his tongue to your clit. He flicked it and you began to drool on the couch. 

The sounds you were making were low, soft, and like you were in pain. Shit, you were! You were out of your mind. Desperate, needy. You’d sell your left titty if he’d let you cum at this point. However, you were too far gone to plead now. 

Tears escaped your eyes and you sniffled. You were leaking everywhere. From your eyes, nose, mouth, and pussy. 

“Making such a mess, baby. Tasting so fuckin’ good. Hmmmm,” he said and rolled his whole head with how he ate you out. 

Your whines increased in a crescendo, reaching higher and higher. Fuck, you were about to cum. You didn’t have enough air in your lungs to tell him. To warn him. 

You should’ve known. He stopped eating you out and you whimpered. “Please,” you breathed. 

Stunna chuckled. He rubbed your body and your body relaxed in increments. You weren’t going to survive. He was going to have to make funeral arrangements for you. Your body shivered painfully and you moaned while he massaged your body. 

“Now what did we learn today?” He asked.

“Eat m-m-more,” you said, your teeth chattering. 

“That’s my baby,” he said.

He got behind you, pulling your hips back against him. His dick brushed against your pussy and you whimpered. He moved his hips, trying to line himself up. It didn’t quite do so, so he moved his hand to guide himself inside you.

Once the tip pushed into you, he shoved inside and you cried out. “Shit, Daddy!” You screamed.

He slapped your ass. “Bounce that shit back,” he said.

You moved, bouncing back on his dick. Your ass jiggled every time you made contact with his thighs. 

“That’s it. Work that sexy ass on this dick. You took your punishment so well. I’m so proud of you,” he said. 

He moved his thumb to your clit and soaked his finger. He then pushed it into your ass and your hips jerked, dropping forward as any remaining strength left you. His thumb wiggled into your ass and you cried, fat drops of tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He took over slamming and pounding into you. “Oh fuck, Daddy! Daddy!” 

“Go on and scream my name, baby,” he said. “You feel so damn good squeezing Daddy’s dick. You missed me, huh?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck,” you moaned. 

“You missed me, baby?” He asked. His voice was soft and sweet but his strokes were deep and punishing. The dichotomy made your pussy flutter. He groaned, feeling it. 

“I missed you, Daddy. I missed this dick,” you moaned. 

He moaned and seemed to get even deeper. As if he had been giving you shallow strokes before. Fuck, he was so big. Stretching you out and giving you exactly what you had been craving. You were going to be sore as hell after this. 

You squeezed him more. It felt like he was truly in your guts. As if you could feel him moving in your tummy. His thick head rubbed your inner walls and your eyes crossed. More drool escaped you.

“Daddy, let me cum. Let me cum,” you begged.

“You can cum baby, you deserved it,” he said. 

You screamed as your body released on his command. Your body spasmed and flopped on his pounding dick as an intense, earth-shattering, soul-cleansing, full body meltdown erupted inside of you. This orgasm rivaled any other he ever gave you. 

You may have passed out. You may have died a little. You may have entered the fifth dimension somewhere. But a moment later, he was joining you. His loud grunts infiltrated your foggy thoughts as he climaxed, stuffing you full of his cum. 

He pushed into you and stayed there, plugging it inside you. You twitched and jerked on his dick and he finished with a deep, rumbling moan in his throat.

“Love you so fuckin’ much,” he said.

“Love you so fuckin’ much,” you said. 

He slowly left you and you groaned. Already your pussy ached. He removed the handcuffs from your wrists and rubbed them. His fingers felt heavenly as he moved to rub your shoulders as well. 

He kissed your cheek. “Catch your breath, baby,” he said. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you said. You’d agree to anything right now. Absolutely anything. 

The next thing you knew, you were being lifted in his arms. You made a soft, questioning sound as he kissed your cheek. He carried you bridal style towards the bathroom.

It smelled like sweet vanilla and he lowered you into the tub. The hot water made you sigh with pleasure. He climbed in behind you and pulled you against his chest. He put your bonnet on first followed by your shower cap, carefully tucking your hair inside without getting it wet.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmured. You were so sleepy. Between the thorough fucking and the bath, you would likely sleep through the night and well into the morning. 

He whispered softly to you as you bathed together, washing away all the nasty shit he did to you. You talked more about his day, your plans for tomorrow, and any other random things on your mind. He tickled you in between kisses to your neck and you giggled as you wiggled your ass against his dick.

He rolled your ear between his teeth and warned you to quit while you were ahead. Afterwards, you dried each other off. You lotioned each other up with your respective lotions. You stole kisses. You breathed each other in. 

Then, he carried you to the bedroom because you said your legs felt like noodles. He chuckled and scooped you up, laying you under the blankets and tucking you in. He kissed your forehead before joining you in bed. 

He scooted closer, his chest warming your back. His hand caressed your belly. He placed a final kiss on your neck and you fell asleep feeling like you were on top of the world and never wanted to come back down.

THE END!

WHEW! Need more? The Secret Big Stunna Files

[queen-of-hawkins-why-ler]

Byler is endgame for so many reasons but mainly bc the show would've needed to head in a much different direction in s4 for anything other than Byler endgame to work or make sense. The finale of a penultimate season of a show is supposed to have the audience sitting at the edge of their seats and asking themselves lots of questions like, "What is the ultimate ending for these characters going to be?" and "What's going to happen when character A realizes ____ about character B?" other than having Vecna get away and having the Upside Down start bleeding into Hawkins, the only plot elements that have been left (other than Max's fate) for the audience to chew on and contemplate are relationship-based.

The Chekhov's Gun that has been set up is Will's painting and what will happen in the story when Mike finds out that Will lied about the painting. And the primary dangling plot thread that has been presented for the audience to consider is, "How will Mike react once he realizes that Will is in love with him?" which necessarily implies, "Is Mike going to reject El and stay with Will or break up with El and get together with Will?" Now why the fuck would you make Byler of all things your MAIN dangling plot thread if the answer to that question has always been, "Lol nvm you THOUGHT you were going to get a satisfying narrative payoff but akshually we never had any intention of following through, and the answer to your questions is that none of the dangling plot threads in s4 actually mattered at all bc everything is staying narratively the same as it was before." You know what we call that? A Game of Thrones ending. A legendarily bad ending that's a huge "Fuck you" to an intelligent audience who can follow basic storytelling conventions. It would be the ultimate bait-and-switch ending and a HUGE slap in the face, and the Duffers would deserve every ounce of criticism they would get until the end of time. It WILL have been queerbaiting, and there is absolutely no excuse for pairing Will Byers, the supposedly "only gay" MC up with some random ass side character introduced in the final season. Like who the fuck would actually care about or be invested in that plotline other than Milkvans and people who don't care enough about Will to want a decent payoff for his arc? Will stans and the gays are certainly gonna be having none of that last minute love interest shit lmao it would be totally unjustifiable. Indefensible even.

[mondaymelon]

choose . post options (and random ass q&a) utc !!

-> temporarily pinning this . old pinned !!

"ohhh melon why did you close asks ohhhh melon why arent u taking req" - you, maybe

i closed asks bc i got burnt out answering them !! sorry sorry i suck at interaction even online , they piled up so much i lost a lot of motivation in answering them but hopefully ill get through most of em .. at some point

if you really really need to talk to me like for some reason you genuinely will explode if u don't i do have a sideblog so. just scamper over to there idk

as for reqs... oh man they havent been open for a good half year.. the day will come if i either run out of ideas (which is. uhm probably not possible) , reach record heights of delusional , or simply feel like it . though keep in mind i do selective reqs!! ill only write the ones im interested in qq

"what about the events and series you never finished melon what of them are you abandoning your children" - you, perhaps

hahahahh uhm. im really bad w commitment. so yes, most likely. that one forgotten coffee shop au with kavetham that never even got its first chapter is never coming back.

names once whispered on the breeze (smau) hasn't been posted since like last year june .. i lost interest in the formatting since i gen like writing long posts more and also i did have a plan for the plot but it was shit and i lost interest. sorry for all the people who supported and loved the series but i couldn't reciprocate that same love. i am not paying child support either

500+ and halloween events... in the former didnt expect to get so many requests, and writing 3-ish took every ounce of soul in me. as for halloween, it was fun to write but since im a stupid little 瓜 i couldn't figure out how to end the series. 4 chpaters and a cliffhanger is all yall are getting :P

"melon how could you do this you big fat meanie i am going to boohoo and shit all over u" - you, to the slightest possibility

ok now why would you do that

thanks please vote mwah ilyall

[dropsofpluto-writes]

If Only In Dreams (Hotch x Reader oneshot)

Summary: You've been Jack Hotchner's babysitter for quite some time now, but his dad is what keeps you coming back, even if it's only in your dreams. Until now, that is. 18+, minors dni

Warnings: smut, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), voice kink, plot if you squint

Grad school was kicking your ass. Fully and completely. Classes and coursework was stressing you to the max, but you remained strong. Still, money was important, so you found yourself in the kitchen of SSA Aaron Hotchner’s home, making a simple meal for Jack to eat before he went to bed. It didn’t hurt that you loved Jack, or that your boss was amazing.

You supposed that you were a woman of simple pleasures. Sure, Mr. Hotchner was generous and kind, always overpaying you for the services you provided. But, by God he was one hell of a man. 

Neat, black hair that you were begging to feel, rugged features that even Michaelangelo couldn’t carve, and his voice. Surely he could recite the first 100 digits of pi and you would go weak in the knees. To your credit, it had also been far too long since you had cum.

But alas, you were just making boxed mac-n-cheese for his young son. Plus, there’s now way in hell he would ever hold you in the same light. You knew that he never spent his free time touching himself to the thought of your moans, your breath on his skin, the way you must taste, the way only your voice could scream his name. But, you imagined all that and more of him. Maybe that was okay. Maybe you shouldn’t violate the one good constant in your life.

“Jack, honey! Dinner will be ready in 5. Could you wash your hands and grab yourself a drink, please?” giggling to yourself, watching the young boy finally walk away from the biggest Lego tower that you’d ever seen him make.

“Yep!”

The two of you ate dinner at the kitchen table, mostly talking about Jack’s newest friend from school, but soon enough he was in bed, and you were cleaning up from the meal.

As you scrubbed the pot, silently cursing yourself for not putting it to soak before they sat down to eat, you found your thoughts were consumed by your employer. On more than one occasion, he had told you to call him Aaron, but you remained in your ways of calling him Mr. Hotchner. you had told him that you liked the formality of the moniker, but you were also terrified that if you were to call him Aaron, it would come out as a choked moan, as it had so many times in the confines of your own bedroom.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your reverie. The lock screen displayed a message from the man occupying your mind.

Is there any possible way you could stay a bit longer tonight? Got held up with paperwork at the office. I would ask Jessica, but she can’t tonight -H.

While you had never spent the night at the Hotchner residence before, you had nothing else of importance that evening, so you agreed without an ounce of hesitation.

Sure thing! Sorry you got held up, but I’m always happy to help. <3

Thanks a million, y/n. -H

You began to make yourself comfortable on the couch and continue with your homework, knowing you would likely fall asleep within the hour. Still, getting some of the work done was better than getting none of it done. 

“Goddamn it!” Halfway through the last assignment, your computer decided to die, and of course, you forgot that damn charger at home. After all, you hadn’t planned on staying the night. You instead occupied yourself with mindless scrolling on social media, eventually drifting to sleep. 

If your thoughts of Aaron during the day were criminal, your dreams at night would surely guarantee eternal damnation.

“Oh sweet Jesus, Aaron, just like that!” you dreamt of the man with his head buried in between your thighs, a rather common theme in your fantasies. The vision of the man you worked for was truly a sight to behold. Tendrils of his raven hair falling over his forehead, pupils blown in ecstasy as he devoured your pussy. He licked through your folds like a starved man. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, allowing the man full access. His tongue gently circled your clit, engorged with pleasure. As he wrapped his lips around the bud, the all-too-familiar coil in your stomach began to make itself known, signaling your impending orgasm.

“Holy shit, p-please! You’re so fucking good, Aaron. M-make me feel so, so good.” Dream Aaron kept the pace, alternating between thrusting his tongue inside your and sucking your aching clit into his mouth, sending you rocketing toward the edge.

“Yeah, you like that baby? Want me to make you feel good?” you groaned at the loss of his mouth on your pussy, but as quickly as it left, he was back at it, devouring your aching cunt like a starved man.

Your orgasm began to build, feeling yourself reaching the peak, when the dam finally gave way, filling you with white-hot pleasure as you moaned his name.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Fuck. 

You slowly opened your eyes to the dimly lit living room, and was faced by the gracious image of your boss. There he stood, suit jacket in hand, tie loosened, the top buttons of his tailored shirt undone.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, hoping that the dull light of the lamp in the room wasn’t calling attention to the fiery blush creeping across your cheeks. Looking at the watch on your wrist, you noted the time. 2:45 AM.

“You were writhing around, and you called my name a few times.”

Were you imagining the knowing glint in his eye? His eyes had always been a point of interest for you, their inescapable depth equal parts comforting and chilling. No, surely he couldn’t know that you were dreaming of his face between your thighs just mere seconds ago.

“Huh. I’m not one to remember dreams too often.”

“Y/n, I am a profiler, and one of my duties is to know when a suspect is lying. Why don’t you tell me the truth?”. He walked toward the side of the couch where you were sitting, his presence both suffocating and bringing you to life.

There was a long pause before you replied, scrambling to think of anything that didn't make you look helpless and desperate.

“I think it was a -um- nightmare? Your tone was utterly unconvincing.

“It didn’t sound like a nightmare to me, Y/n,” the timbre of his voice sent waves of heat between your thighs. “It sounded like you were having a great time. Like we were having a great time.”

You had been caught. Like a deer in headlights, you froze entirely, not wanting to confirm or deny the truth laid before you. Somehow, a small part of your brain chose honesty.

“Yes. You’re right. I’m so sorry. If you need to find another babysitter for Jack I completely understand.” You sat up, hoping to look a little less helpless

“Now that would just make me a hypocrite, Y/n,” his voice was softer now, but just as lustful as you'd dreamt. “You were in my dreams, too. I dream about what lies beneath your clothes, what you’d look like in my bed.”

This couldn’t be real. Surely he was just embarrassing you to make a point. Still, you held out hope that he was being true to his word.

“Oh, God” was the only thing to escape your lips, just above a whisper.

“We can continue, or you can tell me to stop and we’ll never discuss it again. Either way, I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, please. God, yes Mr. Hotchner.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Aaron?” he questioned you, a devilish grin across his lips.

“Please, Aaron”

He was on you in an instant, lips crashing to yours. This was not gentle, nor did you want it to be. This was long-awaited passion. Your arms circled his neck, and his found your waist, picking you up as if you were weightless. He moved his head away from you barely, trying to read your face. All he saw was a hunger for himself, deep in your eyes.

He began to carry you in the direction of his bedroom, the one place in his home you’d never been in. As you entered the hallway, you made sure to be as quiet as you could, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy just a few rooms away.

Aaron tossed you onto his bed, a place you never thought you would actually see. You took him in, his looks, his sound, his smell- clean but still uniquely Hotch. He toyed with the hem of your shirt and brought it up to your navel, gazing deep into your eyes again to gauge your response. You removed the thin garment, exposing your bare breasts, flinging it somewhere near his nightstand. The cool air of his bedroom quickly spread gooseflesh across your skin, nipples puckering in response. 

He removed his own shirt and you pulled him closer to you with a foot behind his knee. You sat up to get a better view of his rolling muscles, a bit padded by age, not that you minded. As you admired his body, you couldn’t help but skate your hands across his skin, up his arms, over his shoulders, down his pecs, toward his abdomen. He had quite a few scars here, and you decided not to ask about their origin.

He leaned in toward you, kissing you again fervently. You responded in kind, aching to be one with him. You sighed into his mouth as your hand found his length, shocked by the size.

“Not just yet, my love. Tell me more about your dreams of me”

You were near naked in front of the man, but you somehow felt a pang of shame again.

He hooked a hand under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You eat my pussy,” you said, craving the real thing over the imagined scenario.

A low groan erupted from his mouth as he knelt down at the edge of the bed, gently pushing you onto your back. He parted your knees, kissing gently up your thighs, teasing you.

His hands snaked into the waistband of your shorts, removing them and your underwear at once. You were completely bare to him, and you decided that this was easily the best moment of your college experience thus far. 

He looked up at you from between your legs, and asked you once more, “Is this really what you want?”

“Yes, please. I need your mouth on me”

That was all the affirmation he needed. Quickly, he dipped his tongue between your labia, relishing in your taste. He hummed in approval as you moaned softly.

“So wet just for me?” He chuckled gently.

“Just for you, only for you, Mr. Hotchner”

He landed a soft smack to the outside of your thigh, just enough to sting.

“Call. Me. Aaron.”, he said, punctuating each word with a strong lick across your clit.

“Only for you, Aaron”

He made quick work of you, eventually inserting one finger, then two, feeling your walls pulse as you were brought closer and closer to the edge. His free hand reached up to your breast, cupping and kneading the flesh, then pinching your nipple. Your hands flew into his hair, eliciting a deep moan from the man ravishing you. Gently pulling, you let out a breathy gasp. 

“Oh, Aaron, I think I’m g-gonna cum”

Aaron sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swiping a circular motion on its surface. You felt yourself hurtling toward oblivion, mind encapsulated by your boss. His fingers curled within you, keeping pace as you rode out your orgasm. 

Once you came down, you stared into his eyes, marveling at the man who was now leaning over your body. His cock was visibly straining against the tight cotton of his slacks, and you gawked at his size. 

“Need you inside me, Aaron. Need all of you so so bad.”

That was all the confirmation that he needed to release his dick. He was quick, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down his strong muscular thighs. You made a mental note to tell him just how hot he was. 

You saw his enormous length, red and weeping at the tip. It must be painfully hard, but all you could think about was how to get him inside you. 

He quickly gathered the evidence of your release with a gentle swipe of his cock through your folds, then aligned himself with your aching cunt. With a gentle thrust and a gorgeous moan, he pushed himself inside you, taking his sweet time to bottom out. You were overcome by a sense of fullness. The small thatch of hair at the base of him rubbed softly at your clit, adding to your euphoria.

He started to fuck into you, ravenous look upon his face. God, this man knew some things. With every thrust into you, he hit the sweet spot inside you, brushing against it with a fervor. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, willing him to destroy you. You would sell your soul to stay in this moment forever, but memories would suffice.

“G-gonna cum, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” 

“Oh fuck, Aaron! I’m on the pill, I don’t care, just please make me cum”

Instead of replying, he opted to press his thumb into your clit, making quick work of your orgasm.

You were surrounded by a white hot pleasure, the best you’d felt in eons. You look over to the man at your side, also coming down from his own orgasm. 

“Has anyone ever told you just how beautiful you are, Aaron?” you say, gazing at him with adoration.

“Only you.” His reply was brief, but he had a gorgeous grin spread on his face. You laughed softly, just happy to be where you were with the man you were sure you loved.

[sinsofsummers]

Hey Girl,

I was wondering Dark! Joel x female reader where he fucks you while he's wearing his gas mask 𓆩♡𓆪 love your fics btw 𓆩♡𓆪

hiiii i'm hoping this little thing was kind of what you were looking for! i found this post that also gives an actual visual of game!joel with the mask on. i'm not sure if i'm great at writing dark!joel yet, but this was definitely good practice :) maybe i'll call this more...depraved!joel than entirely dark!joel for now .. ty for the request! he can do whatever he wants with me

vicious

1.1k | depraved!joel x f!reader

summary: joel fucks you in his gas mask. warnings: literally all smut, 18+, mdni. depraved!joel, gas mask-wearing joel so like...mask kink, free-use vibes (ALL VERY CONSENSUAL), joel gets mean when he's annoyed, semi-public sex, rough p in v, orgasm denial for a moment, fingering, some degradation, hair-pulling, creampie, slight cumplay (i think that's all of them). note: okay this is so filthy. jesus. this is quite literally just porn. no plot. don't even look for one.

There's something so addicting about Joel when he's wearing his mask. Maybe you're sick and perverted for feeling your stomach flip and your thighs squeeze together at the sight of him like that, but you don't care. With his face hidden, you don't have to look at the haunted memories in his eyes when he fucks you. You can just enjoy the way his body fits over yours, taking everything from you and giving you everything he has in return.

You're not saying you have a mask kink or anything, but...Joel looks really good with that thing on.

Sometimes it's not even you that initiates things; on particularly long days, Joel will come back to you, too exhausted even to take the mask off and reveal his tired face to you. On those days, he'll come in with his fists clenched and his pants already tight against his growing bulge.

"Day can't get any fuckin' worse," he might say to no one in particular when he comes home, tossing his pack to the floor. You might be surprised to see him return, or you might have been expecting it, your gut clenching at the sound of his rough voice. "Get over here," he'll growl, and you'll know better than to disobey.

You'll get within a few feet of him and he'll grab your wrists, wrenching you close to him until you can feel your pelvis fit roughly against his hips, his hardening cock eliciting a moan from your lips. "Joel—"

His voice is muffled with the mask on, and you can hardly see the darkness in his eyes when he interrupts you. "No," he snaps, a hand snaking up your side to latch onto the spot between your neck and your shoulder. He squeezes, just hard enough for you to swallow the lump of desire that rises. "None of your dumb whinin'," he retorts. "Don't wanna hear your fuckin' cries. I know you're already desperate for this cock, babydoll."

The pet names he'll use give the impression that he'll be nice, that maybe he'll let you come over his fingers or while he's stuffing you to the brim, but you've known him long enough to know that this isn't the case. Joel gets annoyed on these long days, and when he's annoyed...he can get mean. So you'll let every ounce of resistance ooze from your bones and prepare for being everything he needs.

He'll lift your hands to his gas mask and make you cup it in your palms like you might cup his face, and—the first time he did this was when you realized that he likes this, too. He gets off on seeing you so wide-eyed and needy for him, even with his mask covering his familiar features. It's almost romantic when he makes you hold him like this, but then he'll move his hand to your neck properly and put enough pressure on the sides to pull a squeak from your lips.

He can be as mean as he wants, he can slip his cock into your entrance whether you're overwhelmed with need for him or just beginning to drip with want. Joel Miller's had plenty of bad days. It's about time he uses you to make it a good one.

With bruising hands and punishing thrusts, he'll fuck you against any surface he can find, but he loves taking you like this against the nearest wall, making you notch your ankles around his waist and lock the two of you together as he drags his cock torturously in and out of you.

You'll slip up sometimes, drop a few moments of, "Fuck—Joel, please," into his ear, and he'll stop moving, shove his fingers into your mouth until you shut up. Only when you're reduced to soft whimpering will he continue his movements. But he won't let you come, not until you've apologized—in the form of letting him spill inside you.

"Such a dumb little slut, huh?" he'll grunt as he pulls out of you, reaching down to catch his release as it leaks out of you. He'll roughly push it back inside you with two of his thick fingers and chuckle darkly as he watches your legs nearly give out with sensitivity. A harsh swipe across your puffy clit is the last thing he does before he's done with you.

And that's just on the days that he'll even speak to you.

Some days he'll come in, drop everything, forget his mask is still on, and find you wherever you might be, whether that's on your makeshift bed, or even in an alley where someone might see you. He'll walk up behind you, press his hips against your ass and grind into you before hooking his thumbs in your waistband and practically tearing your pants from your body.

You'll gasp and feel your core pulse with the way that he knows he can do this to you, he knows you'll always let him use you. You'll moan and reach behind you, pawing for his wrist, his thick forearm, something to hold onto when he takes his cock out and rubs it against your slick heat.

He'll swat your hand away and press his own against your spine, pushing you to bed at the waist and present your ass to him in all its glory. If he's feeling particularly gracious, he'll deliver a few smacks that can be mistaken as affectionate when he rubs the sting away.

If he's feeling vicious, he'll forego any type of warning before he's dragging his tip from clit to opening, groaning as he feels you pulse against him. And then he'll push inside you with a cruel thrust, burying himself to the hilt in one go. Broken moans will fall from your throat and he'll reach up with one of two things in mind:

To cover your mouth with his hand and silence your whimpers, or to trap a hand in your hair, wrapping it around his fist and tugging you back towards him, forcing your back to arch and causing his tip to hit that delicious sweet spot inside you.

With nothing but his sharp thrusts, growing harder and faster with every second, Joel makes you fall apart underneath him. Each stroke more punishing than the last, he'll remain silent but for the muffled grunts under the mask that alert you to his pleasure. He'll come inside you with no warning except for the way his hips stutter before he topples over the edge, swiftly reaching down to rub your clit and bring you to ecstasy with him.

"Good girl," he'll murmur quietly, and you'll shiver at the sound of his mask coming off, his chapped lips brushing your ear. "Always such a good girl."

tysm for reading, i love you all!! hope this surprise was fun tonight :)

[pirateprincessblog]

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄

( 𝟎.𝟏 ) 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨:

normal is good. it's safe. it isn't risky. and yet, normal is boring. normal job, normal family, normal relationship. makes you yawn just while reading, doesn't it? escaping it can cost a fortune, even if it is for a short, fun amount of time. when it gets bad, you don't get to regret. you don't get to complain. you don't get to cry. you don't get to go back. you wanted it. now bear the losses of your own decisions. you'll wish for things to get boring again. you'll wish to never feel an ounce of excitement again. you'll wish to be wrapped in your safety bubble, with your safe little family, safe little job, and safe little partner. and it just won't come.

!𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x oc (alice dawson) x jung wooyoung 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hwa, collegestudent!wooyoung, love triangle, dilf trope, eventual smut, angst, fluff 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: yet to come

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of illness, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic violence, MINORS DNI (18+) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this series will be around 10-15 chapters :) please don't hesitate to leave feedback! thank you for reading <33 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

were you ever afraid of thinking about something risky while surrounded by people?

if yes, alice knows exactly how you feel. behind the dusty wooden counter, she hides a book. her eyes abandon the words she has read a dozen times this year already, checking if anyone is giving her weird looks. her thoughts are a loud mess, and she fears that one of those hard-working students might secretly have super hearing powers and is judging her right now. but when she notices no side eyes, her gaze drops on the worn-off pages again. this book set cost her a fortune, and it already looks like it has been through at least two major historical events. heaven forbid that her mother knows how much money she spent on that.

her heart beats faster with each word she reads, fingers excitedly flipping the pages, even though she knows all the plot twists, all the foreshadowing, a few little plot holes that only a small number of people have noticed. she wishes she could read it all for the first time again. the storyline, the characters, the villains, the twists, the tension, the steam. alice's favourite part in all the books. the steamy pages, written by her favourite author, making her sigh and roll in bed late at night as she reread them. sleepless nights spent with her eyes unfocusing and blurring out the words, her thoughts drifting away from the storyline and creating one of her own, using the very same characters. she would sit like that, fantasising, until a sound from the street would bring her back to the original story.

last night was similar, which is why she is barely keeping her eyes open while skimming over the room, checking for odd glares one more time. when she finds none, she continues daydreaming. the villain of the book has captured her heart, no matter the bad things he has done throughout the journey. she might just have a thing for evil, sassy, good-looking men. or she might have a thing for imaginary men with tongue skills.

"ah, your daily dose of porn, i see."

alice looks up, startled. she closes the book, throwing it in the already opened drawer and shuts it with a loud thud, making a few heads turn. the face standing above the counter chuckles, eyes turning into crescent moons as he does so.

"hush!"

"oh, relax. you have like three couples doing no-nos back there in the criminal section. your little mediocre book is nothing compared to them."

the girl furrows her eyebrows. her book wasn't mediocre. it was a masterpiece.

"what did you want?" she asks, annoyed with his teasing this early in the morning.

"i can't come and greet my favourite redhead in town?" the young man asks, his lips still in a teasing smile.

"not if you're going to be loud and disrupt. this is a library, not a bar."

"ha-ha. i forget just how witty my girlfriend is." he rolls his eyes. "luckily, you're pretty to make up for your lack of sense of humour."

"and your humour makes up for your lack of pretty." she tries to poke back, but it just doesn't sound right.

the young man laughs, sincerely, and rests his elbows on the wooden surface.

"you're cute when you try. you'd be even cuter if you were to join me in one of those horror sections. you know, to read. i love me some stephen king. i also love me some puss-"

"shut up, oh my god." alice hushes him, feeling her cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment.

"oh, come on. you haven't been over to my place in days. weeks even, i think."

"wooyoung," she exhales.

"yeah, sorry." the young man suddenly remembers, then scratches his neck from the little uncomfortable situation he has created. "how is your mom?"

"she has lost a lot of hair." alice says, eyes drifting towards the big library windows. "she has also lost a lot of weight. she still refuses to eat. she has already given up on herself."

wooyoung sighs, seeing his girlfriend show different emotions than last week. she has become numb to the whole situation. her mother has been sick for a very long time, and no amount of doctors, medicine, and persuading could convince her mother to start taking care of herself when alice wasn't around. now, alice has given up. she is angry with her mother, and that doesn't allow her to feel sad or bad for her.

"want me to come with you next time you visit her?"

"that would be today."

"yes, sure. of course. just tell me when."

"i finish at two, when rae arrives. i'll wait for you by the car?"

"i'll be there as soon as my classes are over. promise." wooyoung smiles at her.

there's a brief moment of silence, giving space for both of them to think. alice's mind went from fantasising to worrying, and wooyoung hates that he reminded her of the situation and changed her mood.

"baby?" he calls.

she hums, still a little absent.

"you haven't kissed me today."

alice looks at her boyfriend, heart swelling with guilt. her face drops, and wooyoung's eyes widen seeing her saddened expression.

"i'm so sorry," she says, voice almost a whisper.

"oh, no, no! baby, i just- hey, it doesn't matter. i'm sorry, okay? you're going through something tough, and my behaviour isn't quite helping. i'm being a dick."

alice stands up, hands gently cupping her boyfriend's face. her eyes examine his face, taking in his pretty features. she didn't mean what she said earlier, and she knows that he knows too. she smiles softly at him, assuring him that everything is fine and there is no need to apologise.

"i love you." she whispers.

and just like that, wooyoung softens in her hands, lips melting into hers as he finally kisses her for the first time in three days. it has become hard to catch her since she started working, especially since she runs to the hospital whenever she gets a chance. other times, she prefers laying in bed with little to no lighting, doing nothing but laying down and thinking of a way out of what her life has become.

wooyoung wishes he could help her. but what can he do, when they both refuse his help? he now realises where alice's stubbornness comes from. he smiles into the kiss, thinking about her stubborn nature combined with her impatience. she is a little handful, but she is his handful. and he will hold her until his last breath.

༺═━─━────༺༻────━─━═༻

while people tend to hate hospitals, alice likes it. it brings her comfort, knowing that the people around her are in charge of saving lives. she often visited hospitals as a toddler, due to often sickness. she is very prone to colds, and wooyoung has found himself getting mad at her very often because she refuses to wear a jacket when needed.

"but my outfit won't be visible!" she'd complain.

"i don't care. your kidneys are more important than a crop top. and i can't have you with a runny nose again. you know you have a hard time breathing as it is, the cold only makes everything worse."

"you just know it all, don't you?" she'd say, annoyed, while her fingers work the zipper of wooyoung's jacket.

jung wooyoung doesn't have any plans for the future, other than hopefully marrying alice and creating a family with her. he is a college student, yes. but only because his parents forced him to. he doesn't know what he wants in his life. alice is smart. she also doesn't know, so she simply didn't go to college. smart decision. it is crazy expensive, and managing those costs and the costs of healing her mother would be a disaster.

"ms dawson?"

alice stands up, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"dr clark, good day." she greets, smiling weakly.

"it certainly is a good one, ms dawson. your mother is finally showing improvement!"

alice stands still, not believing what she's hearing. wooyoung notices her lack of response, and gently takes her hand in his, hoping to shake her awake.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"she ate everything she was offered today, and she took her medication. and yes, we checked under the bed and in the flower vase, there weren't any hidden pills."

"oh, well... that's great."

the sudden change in her mother's behaviour was suspicious to alice. still, she felt relieved. with a thankful smile and a nod towards the young dr clark, the girl took her usual path to room 257, her hand still held by wooyoung's bigger and warmer one. she pushes the door open, her eyes immediately falling on the bed in the corner of the room. out of four beds, only two were now occupied, meaning that the other two had gotten better and were probably at home with their families. it made alice's heart warm.

it made her heart even warmer when her gaze dropped on the woman in the last bed, her head hidden by what seemed like a beauty magazine. fresh flowers stood beside her bed, accompanied by a framed picture and what seemed like a jewellery box.

"mom?"

the woman drops her magazine in her lap, a smile so wide on her face that it made alice's cheeks hurt. god, she looks so different. it wasn't that long since alice's last visit, was it? the woman in the bed wore makeup, her grey hair braided, and a flower head band placed neatly on her head. her nails were painted a golden brown colour, resembling the autumn leaves that tapped on her window on windy days. she dared to say, her mother looked better than her.

"ally, my darling!" the woman calls, tucking the magazine under her pillow.

alice approaches the bed, sitting in the usual stool that was waiting for her under the elevated nightstand.

"eleanor," wooyoung greets, slightly bowing. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"oh, my, this boyfriend of yours. always a sweet-talker." the woman blushes, waving her hand at the young man. "you are so very lucky, baby, not a lot of boys your age are this sweet. let me tell you, just five minutes ago, amber's son came over, had a fight with her over their house and kicked her out! look, her suitcase is right there!"

"mom, please. can you be any more quiet?"

alice looks over at the other occupied bed, and truly, there stood a suitcase. luckily, the woman was sleeping, so she didn't hear her mother's little gossip party.

"oh, don't worry. the poor woman cried so much that she fell asleep from exhaustion."

silence swallowed the room for a while, eleanor fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. she knew alice had questions. and she dreaded that she had to answer them.

"these aren't the flowers i brought you last time."

"no... no they aren't." she trails, looking anywhere but at her daughter.

"so... whose are they?"

a mumble is heard, and alice raises an eyebrow at her. wooyoung catches a glimpse at the framed picture, but when he fails to recognize the people on it, he shifts his attention back to the woman. she looks at wooyoung, as if searching for a way out of the interrogation that is about to happen. but wooyoung sends her an apologetic smile, and rests his hands on alice's hair, moving it out of her face. he feels like she will need it. there is a reason why her mother is acting so nervous, and when alice is upset, she loves to have her hair played with.

"mom."

"hm? oh. right, the flowers. uh... they're from..."

"mom, cut the bullshit. i'm just curious. so what if a friend brought them over? you have a new crush in town? dr clark not cute anymore?"

"oh, no! dr clark is very cute. and very young. and he is married, sadly for me. no, these are from, uh..."

alice grows impatient, a frown already forming on her face. wooyoung senses her tense state, and gently drops his hand on her shoulder, massaging the knot below her neck. she sighs, and looks at him as a way of saying thank you. silent conversations were common between the two, and it just showed how well they read each other. how much they love each other.

wooyoung presses his lips to her temple, and gently caresses her back as her mother prepares to give an answer.

"so?"

"so what?" eleanor acts dumb, still hoping that alice will give up.

"mom. the flowers. the jewellery. the makeup. the nails. the picture."

the girl finally takes the framed picture. she recognizes her young mother, her bright ginger hair falling in waves on her shoulder, green irises almost invisible because of her big smile and closed eyes. the man, however, she does not recognize.

"from your father."

wooyoung halts his movements. alice sits still, her gaze not leaving the picture.

"what?"

"your father. he came every day since your last visit, and brought me all these flowers, made me the crown, even painted my nails-"

"i didn't know they let drug addicts inside hospitals."

wooyoung gulps, watching eleanor's jaw drop at her daughter's numbness to the new situation they have found themselves in.

"isn't that, like, very unsafe? for both parties?"

"you shut your mouth, right now. your father is a good man."

"he is not my father, and he is certainly not a good man."

the woman's face twists into one of anger, hands turning white as she grips the sheets she's covered with. "he is your god damn father, whether you like it or not."

"he is a scumbag. that's all he is. and, he is the reason you're here. isn't it? have you forgotten?"

"alice..." wooyoung tries, but stops when alice raises her hand as a sign to stop talking.

"didn't he throw you down the fucking stairs and smash your head through the window?"

"that was years ago, alice. you were barely four."

"and yet i remember."

"you're acting as if he killed me."

"he drugged you all the time! and you became an addict, just like him!"

the dark past resurfaces so easily, pulling both women under it's veil and swallowing them with grief. so many tears spilled, so many bruises earned, and so many cuts treated. alice was only three when it all begun, and she still wonders how it all escalated so quickly in a span of just three months. from only name calling and occasional yelling, to full fist and kick fights and screaming for help. only for her mother to go back to him, too afraid and in love to let go. and each morning the same. three months of alice finding herself in crossfire, earning new bruises every other day, and crying all night long.

she loved her mother, and she loved her father a little less every day. strangely enough, there used to be days when the house was as peaceful as it used to be before her father became what he became. she didn't know why, or how. all she knew was that she was grateful. and that whatever pills dad was slipping mom in her drinks and food were, they worked, and alice guarded them in the cupboard with her life. years later, she realized what the pills were. pills, powder, injections, you name them. by the time the monster left the house, the woman was already hooked. she craved more, and more, and didn't have any. who was at fault for that? alice.

alice was the first thing eleanor saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw in the evening. she was there, consistently needing attention, food, love. and eleanor was exhausted. she just wanted her happy pills. and what other way to express your frustration, than to punish a child who just doesn't shut the fuck up?

wooyoung presses a kiss on her head, in hopes of pulling her out of her memories. he knew that she was thinking of old times, of the man from the picture. and he knew that won't do good to her.

"what did he want?" she calmly asks, fidgeting with the frame. she wished for nothing more than to burn the picture, and throw it at the old house, letting it burn the pain away. if only it worked that way.

"why do you think he would want something?"

"mom."

eleanor sighs, in disbelief. or defeat. wooyoung can't tell yet. she looks around the room, trying to find the right words so she wouldn't further hurt her daughter. though the damage was already done, and wooyoung couldn't see how she could further worsen it. until she opened her mouth again.

"he asked for money."

"what?!"

"but look, i-it's just for a new place, so we can all be together again!"

"what?!?!"

alice stands up, head in her hands and legs carrying her hurriedly around the room. wooyoung plops down on the nearby empty bed, feeling his heart swelling at the sight of his loving girlfriend lose control over her emotions. but he knows better than to interfere. he just needs to let her do what she needs to do.

"alice, please. i just want a family. a proper family."

"well you sure as fuck aren't getting that from him! how much?"

"what?"

"how fucking much?!"

"all of it! god, just stop screaming at me!"

now the other woman was the one holding her head, while the younger one shot her head up wide-eyed.

"all... of it?"

"yes, yes! all of it! he wants to create a better future for us and you're acting like a fucking lunatic for no re-"

"you- you bitch."

a gasp escapes the young man's mouth, and he looks over to the woman in bed for her reaction. she grits her teeth, trying to keep her composure. wooyoung notices how red her eyes have become, and how glossy they look. she is trying her best not to let her tears spill, but the more she looks at alice, the less control she has. she watches as her daughter grabs the picture and smashes it on the floor. when alice grabs her shoulders and starts shaking her, screaming in her face, she loses it. big drops roll down her cheeks and neck, ruining the makeup she had so carefully put on.

wooyoung hated that he couldn't help. the best way of helping was to stay back and do nothing. no matter what he said, it would only light up the fire in one of them, if not both. so wooyoung settled for glancing over at the stranger in the other bed, giving her a nod as a sign that everything is okay and that she doesn't need to worry. he doesn't know if it managed to calm the woman or not, because he gets pulled into the mess by eleanor. she grabs his wrist, pulling him closer as if asking for help.

"wooyoung can't help you right now! let go of him!"

"wooyoung, please- please! i only wanted to make it better for us-" she hiccups through sobs, desperately clawing at wooyoung's hand.

alice yanks his hand out of hers, and when a loud slap echoes through the room, wooyoung decides it is time to finally step in. alice might get mad, hell, she might even slap him too, but he doesn't care.

"alice." he sternly says, grabbing her shoulders.

"no, we're not doing this! wooyoung, i am breaking my back every day, i am working overtime, running here making sure she eats and stops acting like a child, only for her to give away all my hard work for empty promises?! to who?! a man who doesn't even recognize me anymore?!"

she is furious. she sees red. no amount of comforting from wooyoung's side will make her calm down.

"take me home."

"are you sure-"

before wooyoung can finish, he can only catch a glimpse of her dark red locks bouncing as she rushes out of the door, slamming it shut after.

"wooyoung, please talk to her."

the man sighs, torn between the two women. he hates this. letting people down. but more than that, he hates letting his girlfriend down.

"i'm sorry, eleanor. there's nothing i can do."

he gently picks up the picture from the floor, careful with the cracked glass, and places it on the nightstand. he glances at the older woman one last time, before sighing and following his girlfriend's path.

[beware-the-jabberwock-my-son]

"But Palestinians elected Hamas!"

False. Let's take an analytical look at the reality of the situation and the statistics behind the most recent Palestinian election.

First of all, the most recent parliamentary (and legislative) election in Palestine took place in January of 2006, just over 18 years ago.

At that time, the estimated population of Palestine was about 3,761,904 (reported as of July 2005). Interestingly enough, at this time, just over half of the population of Palestine (52.3%) was under the age of 18. Those numbers alone suggest that Palestinians as a whole could not have voted for Hamas, since the majority of the population was underage.

But of course, there's even more to this story. Of the population that was eligible to vote, only 1,341,671 were registered to vote and only 1,042,424 votes were cast. Of the cast votes, only 990,873 were labeled as "valid" votes. That comes out to approximately 26.3% of the population of Palestine in 2006 having cast valid votes.

However, the plot thickens even further. In 2006, Hamas was under a party called "Change and Reform", which won the election by a slim margin with a majority of 440,409 votes compared to the runner up with 410,554 votes. Doing the math, this means that in the most recent election in 2006, Hamas, under the Change and Reform party, won the election with a vote from approximately 11.7% of the total population of Palestine.

And if those numbers aren't already enough, let's compare that to the current population, seeing as the 2006 election was so long ago. Making the bold assumption that every single person who voted for Hamas in 2006 is still alive, and compared to the current Palestinian population of about 5.4 million people, that comes out to be approximately 8% of the current population having voted for Hamas.

Yes, you heard me right,

Only 8% of the current population of Palestine voted for Hamas

Now I know I hardly have any followers and the chances of this post getting any attention are slim to none, but these numbers are so important. When we talk about Hamas, October 7th, and the ongoing, centuries old Israeli-Palestinian conflict, we have to consider the analytical data behind all this. Those of us supporting Palestine have never said we're in support of Hamas, in fact many of us understand the detrimental impacts Hamas has had on the Palestinian political system.

All we're asking is for you to have even an ounce of compassion and understanding for the fact that tens of thousands of innocent civilians are being killed at the hands of the Israeli military. This is a genocide. Israel is an apartheid state. There's no debating that.

Sources:

https://theloop.ecpr.eu/palestinian-elections-hang-in-the-balance/

https://www.electionguide.org/elections/id/1433/

https://english.wafa.ps/Pages/Details/104279#:~:text=RAMALLAH%2C%20November%2019%2C%202006%2C,of%2018%20years%20in%202006.

https://www.worldometers.info/world-population/state-of-palestine-population/#google_vignette

(please lmk if I've made any errors with links or misinformed sources or if I've made a miscalculation or stated an untrue fact)

[jeffsfavoriteknife]

Jeff x Jealous! Male reader

Includes: Jealousy(obviously), gay shit, public sex, use of the word malewife

You glared at him from the corner of your eye as he sat with what he called his friend, jealousy eating you alive. Everytime you saw them together it ate at you, you knew he had told you that they were just good friends but you felt he was lying to you, Jeff was known for lying and it just seemed so cut and dry that he was into the guy. You stood up from the coffee table you sat at suddenly, slightly startling the guy next to Jeff as you walked off, not wanting to see him for a while, he was fucking with you, taunting you, and yet you did nothing except walk away.

You felt a hand on your shoulder tightly grip you and turn you around to none other than Jeff. “Mind tellin me what the fuck your problem is?” You glared at him before pulling away ‘you know what my fuckin problem is’ he angrily huffs, clearly fed up with your shit as he shoves you against the wall “i already told you im not fuckin with that guy, even if i was whats it any of your damn business?” This caused you to hesitate on answering, leading him to catch on “no fucking shit..” he griped your jaw and forced you to look up at him, his cold yet dangerous eyes staring back

“you could have just said somethin, i will admit your pretty fucking cute and look quite breedable” you clutched the bottom of your shirt tight ‘the fuck is that supposed to mean??? I cant be bred you fuckin idiot’ he gets closer to you, clearly towering over you as he smirks “nah i definitely could, youd make a cute malewife, i know damn well you got skirts and knee high socks in your place, ive seen you wear them once or twice” face bright red with embarrassment you rolled your eyes ‘of fucking course youd be the one to watch people through their houses’ he pulled you to him, letting out a dark chuckle “i can tell that your not pissed about it tho” he eyed your pants as you yanked your shirt down more to cover yourself “let me help” he didnt give you time to respond before yanking your pants down along with your boxers ‘JEFF! we are in public! Someone is gonna say something, are you insane???’ “Absolutely” he didnt hesitate to turn you around and position you so you were basically offering yourself to him ‘wait wait wait! I havent,,done this before’ his eyes glinted at this as he gripped onto your thighs, yanking his own pants down “you have no idea how fucking cute that is to me, ill be the first AND last one to ruin you” he pressed himself into you, your tightness causing him a bit of trouble but nothing a good old slam wont fix.

This made you cry out in both pain in pleasure, one one side the burn was excruciating, on the other hand he was rubbing right against your prostate causing your cock to throb. He picked you up by your thighs and pounded into you mercilessly, wanting to hear every ounce of noise your mouth could make for him, he wanted to RUIN you. You cried out, mumbling his name along with incoherent sentences but he loved every moment of it, you crying out his name making him go even harder. Your back rubbing against the wall was no doubt going to leave marks but you were hooked on his cock and couldnt bother to ask him to stop, you were basically drooling while the man you swooned over for so long wrecked you. You tightened your grip on him as you came, the entire time you did he was watching your cock twitch with every spurt, yeah, he wasnt gonna let you go. He dug his nails into your thighs, leaving marks in its wake as he bit into your shoulder, drawing blood and pumping you full of him, overfilling you to where some was spilling out, you rolled your eyes in the back of your head in pure bliss

(Yeah its short but its 3 am and since im a slut for jeff im allowed to write short lil stories that is just sex w hardly any plot teehee)

-🖤🔪

[olderthannetfic]

It's been fascinating watching my fandom's antis see the end result of their harassment and hatred. I've seen how, over the course of the past two years, everyone's begun archive-locking their fics and often stopped allowing comments entirely. Recently, after a ton of harassment for the high crime of being Jewish, a major author in our tiny fandom took one commenter's advice and just deleted all their fanfic, leaving a note up on their profile saying they weren't fandom's punching bag. Cue massive whining from antis who harass people just as badly but didn't harass this one person, wondering why someone would do something so awful to them. There's not an ounce of self-awareness. The fact that posting fic for this fandom always involves enduring someone else's screeching has never crossed their minds as a factor for why people are leaving fandom, abandoning works or not posting anymore. They just keep playing the victim, even when a quick search around fandom shows they've chewed out authors for deviating from canon, not telling them enough of the plot's answers right away, shipping bad things, not shipping things, shipping the correct thing but not getting to it fast enough, etc.

I keep waiting for the self-awareness to kick in, for a moment to happen where it hits them that they're the only common factor in all of this. I sit back hoping they'll snap out of this before this tiny fandom dies out entirely. Because I love this fandom, I want us to be able to have fic for it and explore it creatively, but I'm not going to turn to authors and go, "Yeah, you owe it to us to put up with this bullshit!" when the reality is that authors don't owe you anything. I miss the fics. I don't miss them enough to try to convince anyone to stay on this sinking ship.

I miss the pre-revival era when there weren't antis in my fandom. We were having such a good time. None of this was going on back then, and while we had less fic total, we also had so little freaking out by others that it was easy to make fandom friends, chat in the comments with each other, etc. Now it's all fucked and I don't know if it's possible to unfuck it.

--

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Malice's Stain (Imprisoning War)

I set out to write one thing, stumbled onto something I had written weeks ago, and was inspired, so have some post-war PLOT for y'all! >:D I feel like this can be read even if you have no idea what's going on, but whatevs, read as you please. <3

X

The smell of autumn was in the air.

Crickets chirped, a symphony of oncoming coolness and stillness, a song of farewell to the warm, moist summer nights filled with twinkling fireflies that replaced the stars. The sky sparkled, gracing the land with a preview of the splendors a cold winter night sky could provide. Flames burned quietly from torches, casting shadows taller than the castle’s turrets.

Link stared blankly out at the courtyard from the balcony.

He knew this feeling. Or lack of it, really. It took every ounce of energy to just breathe. Here he stood, permanently planted in this spot, not tolerating moving but not wanting to stay still. His mind was filled with cotton, half-thoughts trying to formulate sentences and failing to even convey anything beyond a dull ache, a shadow of what should have been an emotion.

This was becoming a problem, but he was far beyond the point of caring at the moment.

There were a million stressors on his mind, yet none truly seemed to stress him out. It was just another thing to be done, another item to obtain, another person to look out for. Day in and out, watch the children, watch the military’s progress in training new recruits, watch the Sheikah scientists continue to come up with new creations and make new breakthroughs.

Smile, say a few words, rinse, repeat. Go to bed, never fall asleep, get up, do it again.

He gave up even trying to go to bed tonight. He’d tolerated his son’s presence today. Tolerated it. What sort of father tolerates his children?

Link felt a twinge of something pull at his chest. His lips trembled. He leaned heavily on the balcony railing, sagging as if the weight of all the stars in the sky were bearing down on him.

There was a low rumble, a voice that practically growled as it chuckled. “So this is the fate of the Hero of Hyrule, then. You’re just as pathetic as I figured you to be.”

Link stiffened a moment at the voice, at the way his body physically reacted and wanted to scream and claw at the man. But no. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t be real. He’d sealed Ganondorf away years ago. Besides, last night Link had seen the Gerudo general he’d murdered when he was sixteen; he’d figured, after a week without sleep, he’d probably start seeing things. He’d gotten close to this level of exhaustion during the war, and he remembered he and Hemisi had nearly lost their minds.

It didn’t make it any more tolerable, though.

Link didn’t dignify the hallucination with a response.

“I’m grateful you didn’t marry my daughter,” Ganondorf continued, pacing the length of the balcony behind Link like a predator stalking its prey. “You would have ruined her.”

It stung, for a moment. Then Link almost laughed. “The only one who ruined her was you.”

“Imagine if I had won,” Ganondorf continued, either oblivious to his words or ignoring him. Could a hallucination ignore its creator? “Imagine the different state of things.”

“Hyrule would have burned,” Link snapped, glaring at him.

“Would it?” Ganondorf questioned. “Is it not burning slowly now, withering away as its nobles poison it from the inside out?”

“Zelda is working to fix that,” Link argued.

“Ah, yes. Zelda.” Ganondorf spat out the name like it was a curse. “How Nayru ever favored such a dim-witted child is beyond me.”

Link reached for a weapon before remembering he wasn’t armed. “You are the only fool I had the displeasure of knowing. Thinking you could control everything and in the end all you did was destroy it. Tell me, when you first came up with the plan to steal the Triforce, was murdering your entire family part of it or just a side quest for fun? You stood tall and proud like some king but you were nothing more than a clown, lapping at power like the pathetic boar that you were!”

“And yet here you stand,” Ganondorf hissed, motioning towards him. “The man with all the power in the world, and you are completely helpless.”

The fight drained out of Link, and he felt his face grow cold and pale. Rage filled him and exited just as quickly as he had no rebuttal.

Pathetic.

…He wasn’t wrong. Link was pathetic. He was weak and he knew it.

Years ago, he’d tried to end it in an act of desperation and fear, wanting to escape his imprisonment and avoid becoming a monster that he thought he was turning into.

Had he succeeded in avoiding such a fate? Was he not a monster?

He supposed he wasn’t. He was no Ganondorf. But… he was pathetic. Despite all his attempts to be otherwise, here he stood, arguing with thin air and unable to win.

“You were supposed to be the pride of the Sheikah,” he heard beside him, and he turned to see Lady Impa looking at him disappointedly. “Yet all you do is wallow in self-pity. Our duty is to the royal family, and you can’t even do that.”

“You’re no Hero,” Ganondorf sneered. “Heroes are powerful.”

“Heroes are selfless,” Impa added, walking up to stand beside the ghostly Gerudo man.

“How could anyone love such a wretch?” Ganondorf finally said.

“I don’t need your love or approval,” Link spat, though the fire had mostly drained out of him. It was less of a rebuke and more of a plea, a petition to himself to believe it.

He was over this conversation. He turned sharply, growing dizzy, staring down at the ground so, so far below.

Softer footsteps came next, lighter feet than the thundering steps of the monster he’d faced years ago but not as purposefully quiet as his chief. He caught sight of red hair in his periphery, and he saw Hemisi watching him, bubble ponytail over her shoulder, amber eyes reflecting the firelight.

Link bit back an exhausted sigh, squeezing his eyes shut. He should’ve known she’d inevitably appear in this insanity. He really should try to get some sleep. Would Zelda appear next? Or would his mind turn images of his own children against him?

Honestly, he probably deserved that more than anything.

“You look like shit,” Hemisi commented, an echo of her remark when they’d seen each other for the first time since Sonia’s baby shower. He recalled the incident fondly and forlornly, an event that probably should have never happened. But that had been years ago.

He wasn’t sure it was worth indulging this hallucination as well, and had very little energy to do so, but if he ignored it things would probably just get more out of control. “I haven’t slept in a week.”

“Why?”

Hell if he knew. He’d tried. He used to sleep too much. Now, suddenly, his body decided he just shouldn’t sleep at all. He’d had sleepless nights before, but never for such a long stretch. He felt like he was about to burst out of his own skin. He wasn’t entirely sure why any of this was happening.

“What’s wrong, Link?”

Her voice was so gentle. It made him want to scream.

But what was wrong? He had episodes where he felt down or unmotivated, but he hadn’t felt this insane since Sonia’s birth. His daughter was eight years old now!

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

Hemisi snorted. “I’d say so. You haven’t slept in a week.”

He supposed that was a silly remark to make, given the circumstances. But he really couldn’t fathom what was causing this.

Link smelled lavender all of a sudden, and he turned, noticing that Hemisi had vanished, and only saw a silhouette in the entrance to the balcony. The curls that haloed their head, as well as the mildly heavier build from childbearing gave away the person’s identity, her lavender soap carried in the chilly breeze.

“Zelda?” he asked hesitantly, wondering if this was somehow a more vivid hallucination or if the queen really was there.

The silhouette stepped out of the castle entirely and into the open air, and the torches cast their light on her. Zelda watched him, hands rising to hug her bare arms as she shivered a little.

She was responding to the environment. She had to be real.

“Link,” she said softly, green eyes roaming the area. “Who were you talking to?”

Great. The queen overhearing her husband steadily losing his sanity was the last thing he needed right now. He felt irritation sting, pulsing angrily behind his eyes with his ever-growing headache.

“Myself,” he answered truthfully. “Long night. Do you need something, Your Majesty?”

Zelda hesitated, noting, “Are you not cold? It’s getting chilly out here.”

Link glanced down at his attire. He was still wearing his summer clothes, the bright red tunic laced with golden embroidery overlayed by the dark forest green cloth that draped over his left shoulder and across his chest, cinched at the waist with a brown decorative belt made of leather and beads. There was no need to wear trousers in the summer for nobles in formalwear, something Link had never really enjoyed, but he’d adopted the dress as he was expected, wearing sandals with it. At least the tunic went to his knees. Nevertheless, Zelda was right – he was underdressed for the weather, but… he’d chosen to wear his summer attire as it had been warmer in the day and he’d wanted the nighttime cold to slap some semblance of clarity into his foggy mind.

The hallucinations did not seem to be indicating that it was working. The way he only just noticed he was shivering didn’t help, either.

Deflecting, he jutted his chin towards her briefly, his earrings jingling in the breeze with the movement. “And you?”

She was, after all, in her own warmer weather clothes, a sleeveless ocean blue knee-length simple dress overlapped with a milky white overdress that crossed over her chest, shoulder to opposite hip, before encircling her legs, more in the back than the front. She had a thicker belt with cloth bearing the symbol of the Triforce resting over the area the overdress left exposed. Her curly brown hair was pulled out of her face, though styled in its usual half-up/half-down manner, so at least her neck was likely somewhat warm. He could vaguely make out goosebumps over her light skin, despite her hands covering her upper arms and the bright blue skin paint that decorated her from upper arms to wrists.

“I’m freezing,” she admitted. “Come inside, Link.”

Did she actually need something? It was strange for her to seek him out this late. They certainly weren’t on as bad terms as they used to be at the start of their rocky marriage, but given her actions over Sonia’s training, Link had distanced himself and their son from her. He hadn’t wanted Orik dragged into her scheming like his sister had been. It had left their relationship… cool, to say the least.

Sighing, he complied. There was nothing left to do at this point, and he didn’t have the energy to argue further. His eye roamed the balcony, scanning for any more hallucinations, but his mind seemed to be having some mercy on him; the demon king, Link’s chief, and his former love were all gone.

His fingers stopped stinging from the cold as he followed the queen indoors, though the air was still fairly chilly. Zelda didn’t speak, instead wrapping an arm around him and guiding him along. He glanced at her, almost wanting to ask what this was about, but not caring enough to do so. With the minor alarm of haunting images of his past disappearing, he’d grown numb to the world once more.

Goddess, he just wanted to sleep.

The couple eventually wound up at the door leading to Zelda’s chambers. Link glanced at her again, wondering if she wanted what he thought she did. They hadn’t been physically intimate in years—early in their marriage it had been a push between the two, Zelda needing an heir and Link needing a release from everything, but as they had matured and had two children and steadily avoided each other, neither really wanted to instigate anything all that often.

So why did she want it now?

Zelda opened the door, guiding Link inside, and then sighed, releasing him and heading towards the roaring fire. Link looked around, feeling out of place, and honestly just wanted to leave. He watched the queen a moment longer, watched as she took off her belt and outer dress before grabbing a robe and bundling herself up.

“Come to bed,” she said. It wasn’t quite an order—he was very familiar with what those sounded like—but it still seemed firmer than a request.

Link sighed again. Debated the matter for a moment, growing annoyed at being stuck here, but quickly acquiesced, giving up on the matter. The bed was unbelievably soft and warm, yet simultaneously too hard and cold, his back hurting, hair on his body rising in anxiety, muscles aching, mind still unable to focus.

He… wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this awful. Had he felt this bad during the war, perhaps?

Maybe the night before Hemisi and I fought Ganondorf, he mused. But back then, he and Hemisi, despite how nervous they’d been, had also had each other. There had been a little comfort in that, in the promise of a future after everything, in the hope that the world wouldn’t end the next day as Ganondorf held Zelda and the capital hostage.

He was far over the bitterness of how everything had unraveled between him and the new chief of the Gerudo, but his heart still hurt thinking about the war, about a time when he knew what hope felt like. And he wanted to smack himself for it. His children brought him hope and joy.

Well. They had. Until whatever the hell this funk was had started poisoning him.

He had episodes like these, but they’d never been this awful. Nor this agonizing. He’d be exhausted, paralyzed, but it would last maybe a day or two, a brief spell before Lady Impa would track him down and help him, or his children would find a way to fetch him (he still was too scared to let them know where his room was, terrified of what he’d do if they startled him awake—his reactions weren’t as severe as they’d been, but he still worried).

Zelda slowly got in bed as well, watching him a moment. She no longer hid her expression, worry clear on her face, and it made Link feel like he was under scrutiny.

She was trying to be nice. That’s what this was. Perhaps she did need something, but not now. But he knew she could be kind as well, and that seemed to be her only motivation. He knew that. So why did he feel like a caged animal?

Link waited. Time passed. The fire died. Zelda fell asleep. He was still wide awake.

A whisper behind him made him turn sharply, though he tried to be quiet for his wife’s sake. He caught sight of a silhouette, and alarm made his eyes widen as he slinked out of bed, looking desperately for a weapon.

The person vanished.

Link wanted to scream. He couldn’t stay in here. If these hallucinations got worse, he could hurt Zelda. So he made his way back outside, hoping the cold would slap some sense into him.

He never made it to the balcony, though. Something else caught his eye. It sparkled in the night, like an ember from a torch, but it was darker.

The crispness of the early spring air froze over as if winter had come anew, and Link felt like the wind itself punched the air right out of his lungs. It was unnatural, like he was being squeezed, like something was crawling inside his skin and tearing him apart. His head pounded, and the world darkened, surrounded in purplish burgundy energy, like blood and poison mixing together in a sickening magic that could only be produced by someone who had let evil stain them to their very soul.

Ganondorf disappeared as he screamed, encased in the dark essence, and Link clutched Hemisi more firmly. She was still limp in his arms, having taken the brunt of the lightning attack he’d sent their way, able to redirect it before it could kill all three of them.

When the vicious tornado of malice dispersed from the center of the dark storm, a massive beast stood before them, and Link felt as if his heart stopped. It roared ferociously, and he rose to its threatening call, drawing his blade once more, surprised to see it glowing bright blue. Behind him, Zelda cast a spell of some sort, and Link could see the borders of the dark storm held in place by a golden light, the same barrier she’d used to protect herself in the castle.

The real fight had begun.

Link felt his blood freeze.

No. No.

It was a single spark, and he’d been hallucinating. Nothing was wrong. Ganondorf had been dead for years now, soul split viciously into four to prevent the demon he’d sold himself to, the demon he’d become, from ever returning. The cycle was broken. It was over.

Paranoia overrode reason in his mind. There was no way everything they’d done, everything he’d sacrificed, had been in vain.

Link moved quickly, foggy head gone, filled instead with frantic thoughts, one overlaying the other, choking him as he hyperventilated, barely able to make it to the stairs as his vision started to blur, as his fingers tingled and grew numb. He pulled a torch off the wall, nearly falling down the next flight, and tried to slow himself down, tried to tell himself this was just another hallucination.

“Is it, though, boy?”

Link whirled, seeing nothing, but that voice had been clear, as if he—

He shook his head. You just saw him on the balcony. It’s not real. You know that.

Yes, yes. Yes. It… it wasn’t real. None of this was real.

Yet there it was again. A dark spark, a piece of that awful, hellish storm that had eaten away at Ganondorf’s flesh, that had tried to consume all of them. The reveal of the true evil, the physical manifestation of how far the former Gerudo king had fallen, the…

The day Hemisi’s father had died. The day the man Link had viewed as a father had…

Link bit his tongue. Focus! You haven’t viewed him as a father since he captured you during the war!

It was beyond infuriating that such thoughts still lingered, but he blamed it on being sleep deprived. He had to think!

Link took a steadying breath, and he continued descending into the depths.

Hyrule Castle was a large and formidable fortress. It had been rebuilt and fortified after the damage from the war, after that final fight when Ganondorf had taken the capital. During the reconstruction, they’d created an inner sanctum in the lower levels, accessible only by the most trusted Sheikah and the royal family themselves.

Zelda had been trying for years to learn how to access the Sacred Realm so they could properly hide and protect the Triforce. Link knew little of her research, but he did know it existed. He was no sage, and his magic was practical, not fantastical. He had no way of knowing how to access such a world, and had left such sacred matters to her. In the meantime, though, it was heavily guarded in a vault near the Temple of Time, returned to its holy resting place from which it had been stolen years prior. But the inner sanctum…

Ganondorf’s soul had been split into four pieces. Three had disappeared into the sky, vanishing beyond anything they could find, no matter how many scouts they’d sent, no matter how the Sheikah had torn Hyrule apart to find it. Zelda had theorized they’d moved into a different realm entirely, as the Triforce could of course do such a thing. But one piece…

One piece had remained.

The Master Sword, a sacred blade constructed by the goddess, refined by her divine Hero, was specifically designed to seal away evil. And it held a piece of what Link had killed that day.

After what felt like an eternity, the king consort finally reached his destination. Two Sheikah flanked the entrance, noticing his approach, and knelt. He passed through the door without delay, walking through a room with false entrances to misguide anyone who might get this far.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

Link jumped, startled, turning to see Hemisi watching him.

Goddesses, not now, he grumbled, returning his attention to the doors.

“Link, you really do look awful,” Hemisi noted. “You need to sleep.”

“I know,” he snapped, still trying to focus on finding the right door. He knew which one it was, dammit, he just couldn’t think straight!

He heard a young man’s voice next, still somewhat tenor in youth, almost unfamiliar as it had been so long, but it made him freeze up.

“Stop trying to convince him, Hemisi, he’s too stubborn,” Merovar, Hemisi’s long dead brother, grumbled from Link’s other side. The hero turned, looking at the teenager, but despite how alive Merovar looked, all Link could see was the broken body on the battlefield, the bleeding stab wound, all he could hear was Hemisi screaming—

Link squeezed his eyes closed, putting his hands over his face, pushing on his temples, begging Hylia for help.

He heard a whisper, the same one from the queen’s bedroom, so, so distant but somehow so much more visceral than either hallucination. It was deep, rumbling, but too far away to be discernible. The Gerudo royal twins grew silent, disappearing from the room, and Link thanked the goddesses over and over as he finally found the door he needed, rushing to it and opening it.

The air froze, stealing Link’s breath away. His left arm lowered, torch nearly falling out of his numb grip.

The inner sanctum was a large, stone room, four corners posted with guardians affixed in place, large heads swiveling constantly to seek out threats. Their usually blue and amber lighting was flashing purplish red as they all focused on the center of the room, though there was no true target to fire at yet.

Yet.

Malice swam in the air, peeling off the Master Sword like smoke from a flame. The blade sat on an altar in the center, surrounded by a light blue barrier of Sheikah technology and magic, the eye of his people still glowing brightly to ensure the seal.

“Link.”

The torch dropped entirely, and Link scrambled back towards the door, terrified, breath coming out in rasps. No, no, NO!

The fear at hearing Ganondorf’s whisper faded though, morphing into rage. That monster would not return, would never return, and he would die before he let him hurt his children, his queen, or his kingdom!

The seal was still holding, but he wasn’t sure if it would continue to do so. He had to find a way to figure out why the sword wasn’t enough, why that piece of Ganondorf’s soul was seeping out like blood from a wound. Had the sword weakened?

He needed Ze—

“Link!”

Gasping, Link turned sharply, finally losing his balance entirely in his exhausted state. Zelda leapt forward to try and catch him, hands scrabbling for his tunic to help ease him to the ground. He reached for her desperately, gripping her shoulders, breathless, speechless—

He refused to be helpless. He refused.

“The seal,” he rasped. “We have to repair the seal!”

Zelda’s expression grew frantic as she looked up, examining every inch of the room. Link couldn’t fathom why she didn’t just look at the sword itself, but—

The world spun and then grew unnervingly, disturbingly still. Link held his breath until his vision grew hazy around the edges. The queen’s green eyes examined everything at least five times before she slowly looked back at her husband. When Link saw the concern, the anxiety, but a lack of overwhelming dread, he slowly glanced around the room as well.

The sword was dormant. The guardians were swiveling their heads as usual, a reassuring scrape of metal, blue eyes passive.

Had… had it all been…?

“I’d been having strange dreams,” Zelda said quietly, kneeling down to be at eye level with him. “A strange, impending dread. I thought… perhaps one of the nobles were going to try something. But… Link, I think my dreams are about you.”

Link swallowed, but he could only scrape the back of his throat, dry as it was. “M-me…? You… you think I’m the threat?”

The queen slowly moved her hands from his tunic to his face. “No, Link. No. I… I think you need to rest.”

You’re becoming a threat.

But he… he could’ve sworn—!

What if you’d broken the seal in your panic?

Oh, goddess. Oh, goddess.

He heard footsteps behind the queen, and Impa came into view. The look on her face mirrored the nervous energy she’d had as she’d taken care of him all those years ago, when he’d tried to take his life.

“I—I swear, I—” Link tried to argue, but found his voice failing him, and suddenly, just like that, he was helpless again.

Weak. Pathetic. The words spat in his mind through Ganondorf’s own voice, and he whirled to look at the sword once more.

Nothing.

“Link,” Impa called gently, hand warm on his tense, shivering back. “Come on. We’ll get you something to drink to help you sleep.”

Was he… really…?

Link shivered, curling in on himself, feeling more humiliated and useless than he had in a very long time. The two women flanked him, gently holding him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out brokenly.

“It’s okay,” Impa assured gently, oh so gently, that same soft tone she’d used so many years ago.

“We’re going to help you,” Zelda affirmed, her own tone softer than he was used to.

Slowly, Link let them help him stand. He took one last look at the room, at how peaceful it was, and felt like he was going to be sick.

Why did something still feel wrong? Was it just him?

The three made their way back up the countless stairs. The queen let out a small sigh – despite the worry she had for her husband, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat reassured that there wasn’t something else going on. She’d never had visions that pertained to Link, though, and it was frankly a little terrifying that he’d gotten this bad. The chief of the Sheikah watched her boy worriedly, wondering if he’d been on the brink of something far worse, remembering how bad he’d gotten when he was eighteen, terrified that he could’ve almost broken the seal himself without even realizing it. The king consort felt miserable and petrified in his own right, wondering if he should even be allowed anywhere, ignoring how his cheek stung over his old scar he’d gotten from Ganondorf.

But it didn’t matter what the three thought. Plans were in motion. A former ruler sat in the dungeons, awaiting his triumphant return. And farther in the depths than the former King of Hyrule, the inner sanctum remained spotless.

Except for one little spark.

[shiorihyugawrites]

The Legendary Black Cat

Selena de la Rosa, known across Marley as the Legendary Black Cat, is the world's deadliest assassin—a master of agility, precision, and deception. When Marley turns against her, she is shipped to Paradis as a living weapon, chained and drugged, with her survival all but assured to be short-lived. But Selena is no ordinary prisoner.

Bound by no one, loyal to none, Selena plots her next move, determined to seize her freedom by any means necessary. Yet, her plans are complicated by the Scouts who captured her, particularly Captain Levi Ackerman—the so-called Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Selena is intrigued by his strength and reputation, but her pride refuses to acknowledge him as her equal.

Caught between Levi’s unrelenting gaze, Selena plays a dangerous game of manipulation. She’s biding her time, but when the moment comes, will her calculated escape bring her freedom—or will her path collide violently with Levi’s unwavering resolve?

The Black Cat has always landed on her feet, but for the first time, she might meet her match. (Levi x OC)

Chapter Four

The forest was silent except for the faint rustling of leaves and the heavy breathing of the scouts. Selena’s mocking laughter had faded into the night, leaving the group frozen in stunned disbelief. The scene before them was surreal—Captain Levi, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, stood disheveled, his uniform in tatters, blood dripping from shallow cuts across his arms and chest. His gray eyes burned with a fury that seemed to darken the entire forest.

No one spoke at first. They couldn’t. It was as though the very laws of reality had been upended. Levi didn’t lose. Levi didn’t get caught off guard. And Levi definitely didn’t get kissed by the enemy.

Finally, Jean broke the silence, his voice cracking with incredulity. “She… she kissed him.”

“What the hell was that!?” Connie added, his jaw practically on the floor. “Did she actually kiss him?”

“She kissed Captain Levi,” Sasha whispered, her eyes wide. “And then kicked his ass!”

Armin blinked rapidly, his analytical mind struggling to process what he had just witnessed. “I… I don’t even know what to say. That was… she was toying with him.”

Eren clenched his fists, his face twisted in frustration. “That wasn’t just toying! She humiliated him! Captain Levi doesn’t lose—how could she do that?”

Mikasa’s expression was harder to read, but her dark eyes flicked to Levi’s face. He was standing perfectly still, his hands clenched tightly around his remaining blade. The way his shoulders rose and fell with each breath betrayed just how furious he was.

Levi’s gaze dropped to the ground for a moment as he slowly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His movements were deliberate, restrained, as though he was using every ounce of his self-control to keep from exploding. The spot where Selena’s lips had pressed against his burned in his mind—not because of the kiss itself, but because of what it represented. He had underestimated her, and she had caught him slipping. That was unforgivable.

“Tch,” Levi muttered under his breath, his voice low and sharp. “Damn stray cat.”

Hange, who had been silent until now, suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh my god, Levi! She kissed you! That’s a first. How does it feel to be the target of such… bold affection?”

Levi shot her a glare that could’ve killed on sight. “Shut up, Hange,” he snapped, his voice icy. “Now’s not the time.”

“Oh, come on,” Hange said, grinning from ear to ear. “She kissed you and kicked your ass. You’ve got to admit, she’s… impressive.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Say another word, and I’ll kick your ass.”

Hange raised her hands in mock surrender, though her grin didn’t falter. “Fine, fine. But admit it—you respect her now, don’t you?”

Levi didn’t answer immediately. He hated to admit it, but she was right. Selena de la Rosa wasn’t just another opponent. She was the real deal. Her speed, precision, and flexibility had pushed him in ways few others ever had. She had read his movements, countered his attacks, and exploited his momentary lapse in focus with surgical precision. And that damn kiss…

“She’s skilled,” Levi said finally, his tone begrudging. “More skilled than I expected.”

“More skilled than any of us expected,” Erwin added, stepping forward. His blue eyes were calm, but there was a hint of something deeper in his gaze—concern, perhaps, or curiosity. “This wasn’t just a display of skill. It was psychological warfare. She wanted us to see that even our best isn’t invincible.”

Mikasa’s jaw tightened at the implication. “She humiliated all of us. What does she gain from that?”

“Control,” Armin said softly, his sharp mind piecing it together. “She’s establishing dominance. She wants us to know that she’s not afraid of us, and that she’s not to be underestimated.”

“Well, it worked,” Jean muttered, crossing his arms. “Because now I’m scared as hell.”

Eren scowled, his fists shaking. “We can’t just let her get away with this. We have to find her!”

Levi’s sharp gaze snapped to Eren, silencing him instantly. “Think before you act, Jaeger. She’s in control right now, not us. If you rush in like an idiot, she’ll cut you down before you even know what hit you.”

Eren bit back his retort, though his frustration was palpable. “Then what do we do?”

“We regroup,” Erwin said firmly. “Selena has the upper hand, but we can’t afford to let her out of our sight. She’s still in this forest. We’ll track her, but we do it carefully.”

Hange’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she adjusted her glasses. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I can’t wait to see what she does next.”

“She’s not a game,” Levi snapped. “She’s a threat. Don’t forget that.”

Hange shrugged, though her grin remained. “A threat, sure. But you can’t deny she’s fascinating. You don’t run into people like her every day.”

“Good,” Levi muttered darkly. “Once is more than enough.”

As the group moved to reorganize themselves, the younger scouts couldn’t stop murmuring among themselves.

“She kissed him,” Connie repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, his tone both incredulous and amused. “I still can’t get over it. She actually kissed Captain Levi.”

“Why would she do that?” Sasha asked, her brow furrowed. “It’s so… random.”

“It wasn’t random,” Armin said, his voice thoughtful. “It was deliberate. She knew it would throw him off.”

“Throw him off?” Jean scoffed. “It nearly killed him! Did you see his face? He looked like his soul left his body.”

Mikasa’s eyes flicked toward Levi, who was walking ahead of them in silence. “It worked. She escaped.”

“Not for long,” Eren growled. “We’ll find her.”

“She’s not just going to wait around,” Armin warned. “She’s always thinking ahead. We need to be smart about this.”

As the group continued, the tension in the air grew thicker. None of them had ever seen Levi pushed like that before, and it left them all with a lingering unease. If Selena could challenge Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, what hope did the rest of them have?

Levi stayed at the front of the group, his expression unreadable but his mind racing. Selena’s words and actions replayed in his head, her mocking grin and poison-green eyes burned into his memory. He had made the mistake of underestimating her, and she had capitalized on it with ruthless efficiency. The kiss… that was just the cherry on top. It wasn’t about affection; it was about control. And Levi hated losing control.

But even as anger simmered beneath his calm exterior, there was a part of him—however grudgingly—that respected her. Selena de la Rosa wasn’t just a killer. She was a tactician, a manipulator, and a force to be reckoned with. She had proven herself worthy of her reputation as Marley’s deadliest assassin.

Still, Levi wasn’t about to let her win. She had played her hand, but he wasn’t out of the game yet. The Black Cat might have landed on her feet this time, but the hunt was far from over.

“Tch,” Levi muttered under his breath. “Your move, Black Cat.”

…

Later on the group gathered around a makeshift table in the forest clearing, the night’s chill settling over them as they attempted to regroup and analyze the enigma that was Selena de la Rosa. Despite their injuries, no one could ignore the pressing need to understand their opponent. Levi stood at the head of the group, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression as grim as ever.

The scouts looked worse for wear. Eren’s uniform was scuffed, Mikasa’s blades were chipped, and Jean had a darkening bruise on his jaw. But all of them were united in their shock and frustration.

“She’s fast,” Armin began, his voice cautious. “Faster than anyone we’ve ever faced. Even you, Captain.”

Levi didn’t deny it. His gray eyes narrowed as he replayed the battle in his head. “She’s more than just fast,” he said. “She’s precise. Every movement, every strike—it’s calculated. She doesn’t waste energy.”

“What about that technique she used?” Mikasa asked, her dark eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and frustration. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The room fell silent as they recalled the moment Selena unleashed her barrage of cuts. Even now, the memory sent shivers down their spines.

“It was insane,” Jean muttered, shaking his head. “She cut you—what? Eighty times in ten seconds?”

“Close,” Levi said, his voice cold. “It was exactly a hundred.”

Connie let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “How do you even do that? I mean, I’ve heard of speed, but that’s just—”

“Inhuman,” Sasha finished for him, her face pale.

Levi’s jaw tightened as he thought about the way Selena had moved during that attack. The fluidity, the accuracy—it was unlike anything he’d ever encountered. “It wasn’t random,” he said. “She wasn’t just swinging wildly. She zigzagged her blades while striking, alternating between her left and right in perfect rhythm. It’s why she was able to land five cuts per second, with each blade in such a short amount of time.”

Mikasa frowned. “That level of skill… it would take years to master something like that.”

“Or a lifetime,” Levi said quietly, his voice edged with a grudging respect. “She’s been trained for this since she was a child. That technique isn’t just something she learned—it’s something she perfected.”

Armin’s brow furrowed in thought. “But it requires extreme precision. If she were even a fraction of a second off, she’d lose the rhythm and leave herself open.”

“Exactly,” Levi said, his gray eyes glinting. “It’s not invincible. It’s fast and overwhelming, but it’s not flawless.”

“But it might as well be,” Eren grumbled, his fists clenching. “You barely deflected it, Captain. The rest of us wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Jean nodded grimly. “Yeah, I hate to admit it, but if she’d used that on us, we’d all be dead.”

Connie rubbed the back of his neck, his face pale. “Okay, so she’s fast, flexible, has killer aim, and apparently has a technique that’s impossible to block. Great. What the hell are we supposed to do about that?”

Levi’s sharp gaze swept over the group, silencing their murmurs. “She’s fast, but she’s not strong,” he said. “That’s her weakness.”

Armin tilted his head. “You mean physical strength?”

Levi nodded. “Her strikes lack power. She relies on speed and agility to overwhelm her opponents. But if you can slow her down, force her into a situation where she can’t use her agility, she’s vulnerable.”

“Slow her down?” Jean scoffed. “How do you slow down someone who moves like that?”

“By outthinking her,” Levi said bluntly. “She’s clever, but she’s not invincible. Everything she does is calculated. If we force her into a position where her calculations don’t work, she’ll falter.”

Armin nodded slowly, his sharp mind already working through the possibilities. “That’s why she relies on high ground and mobility. If we can take those away from her, we might stand a chance.”

“But she’s so unpredictable,” Mikasa pointed out. “Her fighting style is unlike anything we’ve seen. She’s flexible, almost inhumanly so. How do we prepare for that?”

Levi’s gaze hardened. “By being better.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words sinking in. Despite his seething anger over Selena’s escape, Levi couldn’t deny the grudging respect he had for her skills. She was the real deal—Marley’s greatest assassin. And now, she was their problem.

“What about her motives?” Hange asked, breaking the silence. “She spared everyone. Even you, Captain. If she’s so dangerous, why hold back?”

Levi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his mind wandered back to what the Marleyans had said about her refusal to titanize Eldian children. “She has a code,” he said finally. “She doesn’t kill children.”

“But we’re not children,” Eren said, his tone bitter. “We’re soldiers.”

“She sees you as children,” Levi said, his tone sharp. “Don’t let that fool you into thinking she’s soft. She spared you because she wanted to, not because she had to.”

Erwin, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his tone measured and commanding. “Selena de la Rosa is unlike anyone we’ve faced before. Her skills, her tactics, her personality—they’re all designed to make her the perfect killer. But even she has weaknesses. Our job is to exploit them.”

“And what if she exploits ours first?” Sasha asked quietly.

Levi’s gaze flicked to her, his expression unyielding. “Then we don’t give her the chance.”

The group fell into silence again, the weight of their task pressing heavily on their shoulders. Selena was a force of nature, a predator unlike any they had encountered before. But Levi wasn’t about to let her win.

…

Perched high in the canopy of the forest, Selena sat on a sturdy branch, her body concealed by the shadows and foliage. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting a silvery glow on her caramel skin. She dabbed water onto a shallow cut on her arm with a strip of fabric she’d torn from her makeshift dress. Her movements were calm, methodical. Next to her, a cluster of crushed berries sat in a small leaf bowl she had fashioned. She dipped her fingers into the dark juice and smeared it over her wound, wincing slightly at the sting.

“Good as new,” she murmured under her breath, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “That Capitán… he really does live up to the stories.”

Selena’s thoughts lingered on Levi Ackerman. The way he moved, the precision of his strikes, the sheer intensity of his presence—it was intoxicating. She admired strength, skill, and control, and Levi had all of those in spades. But admiration didn’t mean submission. She wouldn’t let him, or any of these scouts, capture her. No one would control her again.

“They’re all the same,” she muttered, her green eyes glinting with anger. “Orders, agendas, betrayal. I’ve seen it before. Marley wanted a weapon, and when they couldn’t control me, they tried to discard me.” Her jaw tightened as a flicker of bitterness crossed her face. “Never again.”

Selena cast a glance down at the forest floor, her sharp eyes scanning for movement. She knew Levi and his squad were already searching for her. She could almost feel him out there, stalking her like a predator, just as she had done to countless others. But the difference was clear: she was the Black Cat. And tonight, this forest was her domain.

Selena had spent the better part of the last hour preparing for this hunt. Using nothing but her surroundings and her quick wits, she had crafted an array of simple but effective traps. Thin vines twisted into tripwires, heavy branches rigged to snap under pressure, and clusters of dried leaves strategically placed to crackle loudly when disturbed. Each trap was designed not to harm, but to disorient and reveal the scouts’ positions.

She crouched next to one of her tripwires, ensuring it was taut. The plan was simple: force them to reveal themselves and lead them on a wild chase. She didn’t need to fight all of them again—not yet. All she needed was to stay one step ahead.

As she tightened the final vine, she paused and tilted her head, listening. The faint sound of footsteps reached her ears—quiet but not quiet enough. A small, satisfied smile crept across her lips.

“Time to play,” she whispered, darting silently back into the trees.

Levi led the group through the dense forest, his expression as sharp as the blades in his hands. The others followed closely, their weapons drawn and their eyes scanning every shadow. The tension was palpable, and no one dared to speak too loudly.

“She’s somewhere in here,” Levi said quietly, his voice cold and focused. “Stay alert. She’s fast, but she’s not invisible.”

Mikasa moved alongside him, her dark eyes flicking to the treetops. “She’s so skilled, she won’t make this easy.”

“She’s not just skilled,” Levi replied, his tone edged with irritation. “She’s resourceful. If you underestimate her, you’ll regret it.”

Jean huffed under his breath, glancing around nervously. “I already regret it. This whole forest feels like a trap.”

“Because it is a trap,” Armin said, his voice tight with unease. “Think about it—if she’s as smart as we’ve seen, she knows we’re coming. She’s probably been preparing.”

“Great,” Connie muttered. “So we’re walking straight into her little death maze. Fantastic.”

Eren scowled, his fists clenched. “We can’t let her outsmart us again. We just have to—”

A sudden SNAP cut him off, the sound loud and jarring. The group froze as a heavy branch swung down from above, narrowly missing Eren and slamming into the ground with a thud. A flock of birds scattered into the sky, their startled cries echoing through the trees.

“What the hell was that?!” Sasha yelped, jumping back.

“A trap,” Levi said flatly, his eyes scanning the area. “She’s marking our position.”

Another SNAP echoed from a few yards away, followed by the loud rustling of leaves. Then another. Selena’s traps were activating in sequence, their loud noises reverberating through the forest.

“She’s leading us somewhere,” Erwin said, his tone grim. “Or away from her.”

“She’s watching us,” Hange added, adjusting her glasses with a glint of excitement in her eyes. “She probably knows exactly where we are right now.”

Levi’s jaw tightened as he turned his gaze upward, scanning the treetops. He could feel her presence, like a shadow just out of reach. “She’s close,” he muttered. “But not for long.”

From her perch high above, Selena watched the scene unfold with a sly grin. The Scouts moved cautiously through the forest, their formation tight, their weapons ready. She had to admit, they were more disciplined than she had expected—especially Levi. He moved like a panther, his sharp gaze cutting through the darkness, his movements deliberate and controlled.

But discipline wasn’t enough. Selena had the advantage here. She had survived in places worse than this forest, and she had been studying its layout and had used it to her advantage. As the scouts triggered another of her traps—a tripwire that sent a shower of twigs crashing to the ground—Selena quietly retreated in the opposite direction, her movements as silent as a whisper.

“They’re good,” she murmured to herself, her poison-green eyes glinting with amusement. “But not good enough.”

Still, her heart raced with exhilaration. The thrill of the hunt was intoxicating, and she couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed the challenge. Levi, in particular, was fascinating. His precision, his intensity, the way he never seemed to lose focus—it was almost enough to make her pause. Almost.

Selena smirked, her mind already forming her next move. The scouts thought they were hunting her, but she was the one in control. And as long as she stayed one step ahead, she intended to keep it that way.

“Catch me if you can, Capitán,” she whispered, disappearing deeper into the forest.

The stolen ODM blades gleamed faintly under the moonlight, their edges sharp but noticeably dulled from heavy use. Selena paused briefly to inspect them, running her fingers along their surfaces. They would suffice for now, but she knew they wouldn’t last long—especially if she faced Levi again.

“That Capitán doesn’t play fair,” she muttered to herself, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “But then again, neither do I.”

Her mind raced with possibilities. She needed an edge. Fighting Levi with worn blades wouldn’t be enough, but Selena was nothing if not resourceful. She’d observed the peculiar technology the Scouts used—ODM gear. It fascinated her how they zipped through the trees with unnatural speed and grace. But like all tools, it had its weaknesses, and Selena intended to exploit them.

She crouched in the shadows of the canopy, her poison-green eyes flicking toward the distant rustling of the scouts. They were moving cautiously now, but she knew it wouldn’t last. Soon, they’d tire of tripping over her traps and switch tactics. And when they did, she would be waiting.

Levi’s sharp voice cut through the forest. “Switch to ODM gear. Now.”

“But Captain—” Eren began, only to be silenced by Levi’s glare.

“We’re wasting time stumbling through her traps,” Levi said curtly. “She’s counting on us to stay grounded. If we stay low, we’ll never catch her.”

Erwin nodded in agreement. “She’s fast, but she can’t outmaneuver all of us in the air. Use the gear and stay sharp. She’ll be expecting this.”

The scouts exchanged uneasy glances before activating their ODM gear, the faint hiss of compressed gas breaking the quiet. With a series of clicks and whirs, they launched themselves into the air, the trees blurring around them as they began zipping in Selena’s direction.

“Finally,” Selena murmured from her hiding place. She watched their movements with predatory precision, her grin widening. “Just like I thought.”

As the scouts zipped through the trees, their confidence grew. The open air felt safer than the forest floor, where Selena’s traps had plagued them. Eren, fueled by frustration, moved ahead of the group, his blades drawn.

“She’s close,” he said, his eyes scanning the shadows. “I can feel it.”

“Stay in formation,” Mikasa warned, following closely behind him. “She could ambush us.”

Jean was close behind, muttering under his breath. “Yeah, and knowing her, she probably—”

SNAP!

Jean’s words were cut off as he slammed into a web of vines stretched between two trees. His body twisted awkwardly as the cords tangled around him, cutting off his momentum.

“What the hell?!” Jean shouted, struggling against the vines.

One by one, the scouts collided with the web. Connie and Sasha yelped as they became ensnared, their gear failing to slice through the vines quickly enough. Mikasa managed to halt herself just short of the trap, her sharp reflexes saving her from getting caught, but Armin wasn’t so lucky. He dangled helplessly, his blades slipping from his grasp in his panic.

“Cut yourselves free!” Erwin commanded from behind, his voice calm but firm.

Selena didn’t give them the chance.

As soon as the web ensnared the majority of the scouts, Selena struck. She crouched on a high branch, her chest rising and falling as she drew in a deep breath. Then she let it out—a piercing, ear-splitting scream that tore through the forest like a banshee’s wail.

The sound was so loud, so unnerving, that several of the scouts instinctively flinched. Connie yelped, Sasha dropped her blades in surprise, and even Mikasa’s grip faltered for a fraction of a second. The vines amplified the chaos, shaking violently as the ensnared scouts struggled to recover their bearings.

Selena wasted no time. She swooped down from her perch with the grace of her namesake, her stolen blades glinting in the moonlight. With a series of swift, precise strikes, she severed the cords connecting the scouts’ swords to their ODM gear. The weapons clattered uselessly to the ground, leaving the Scouts vulnerable and disarmed.

Her movements were so fast, so fluid, that the scouts didn’t fully register what had happened until she was already gone. By the time they looked up, Selena was standing a few yards away, two newly stolen blades in her hands and eight extras strapped across her back.

Levi had been the only one to react quickly enough. The moment he heard Selena’s scream, he had cut himself free from the vines and landed on the forest floor, his blades ready. He turned just in time to see her disarming the others with surgical precision, her movements a blur.

“Damn it,” Levi hissed under his breath, his gray eyes narrowing. He darted forward, his boots barely making a sound against the dirt. He reached Selena just as she turned to leave, his blade slashing toward her throat with lethal intent.

But Selena was ready. She twisted her body in a way that defied logic, narrowly dodging the blade as she pivoted to face him. Her poison-green eyes gleamed with excitement as she grinned.

“Capitán,” she purred, her voice dripping with mockery. “You’re faster than the rest, I’ll give you that.”

Levi didn’t respond. His expression was cold, his gaze unrelenting as he lunged at her again, his strikes fast and precise. Selena deflected each one with practiced ease, her grin never faltering.

“Round two,” she said softly, her voice almost playful. She adjusted her grip on her stolen blades, her stance fluid and confident. “Let’s see if you can keep up this time.”

The tension in the air was electric as Levi and Selena squared off, the forest around them silent save for the faint rustle of leaves. The other scouts, still tangled in the vines, could only watch in stunned silence as Levi and Selena prepared to clash once more.

The Black Cat was ready to fight, and this time, she had no intention of holding back.

They clashed again, their blades ringing out with deafening precision. The scouts, tangled in vines or watching from the sidelines, could only gape in stunned disbelief at the sheer speed and chaos of their battle. Selena’s movements were mesmerizing—each strike, twist, and pivot executed with an almost inhuman grace. And Levi, sharp and relentless, countered her attacks with a ferocity that left no room for error.

But even as the two fought, Selena’s voice rang out, teasing and flirtatious, slicing through the tension like one of her stolen blades. “Ah, Capitán,” she purred, deflecting one of Levi’s strikes with a deft twist of her wrist. “You’re even more handsome when you’re angry.”

Levi didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, his gray eyes burning with frustration. He lunged again, aiming for her midsection, but Selena dodged with a spin, her short coiled curls catching the moonlight as she laughed.

“Careful,” she said with a smirk. “You might actually hurt me.”

Watching from the sidelines, Eren clenched his fists. “She’s toying with him,” he growled, his frustration evident. “We have to help.”

Armin, still tangled in the remains of Selena’s vine trap, hesitated. “But how? She’s too fast. If we charge in recklessly, we’ll just get in Captain Levi’s way.”

Mikasa, her eyes locked on Selena’s every movement, gripped her remaining blade tightly. “We have to try.”

Commander Erwin, his leg still smarting from the traps, made the decision for them. “Help Levi. Now. We can’t let her get away again.”

The scouts exchanged uneasy glances. Selena had defeated all of them with ease before, leaving their pride and confidence in tatters. Jean muttered under his breath, “This is insane. She’s going to lay us all out again.”

“She might,” Hange said with a grim smile, adjusting her glasses as she freed herself from the last of the vines. “But we can’t let that stop us. If we don’t help Levi, she’ll outmaneuver all of us. Now get moving!”

Spurred into action, the scouts armed themselves with whatever blades they had left. Mikasa led the charge, her dark eyes blazing with determination. “We’ll go together,” she said, her voice steady. “She can’t block all of us at once.”

Selena caught the flicker of movement from the corner of her eye and turned slightly, her smirk widening as the scouts launched their attack. Levi lunged for her again, but she sidestepped him gracefully, her focus shifting to the approaching group.

Her stance shifted subtly, her feet repositioning on the forest floor with an elegance that didn’t escape Levi’s sharp gaze. His eyes narrowed as realization dawned. She’s going to use another one of those techniques.

The scouts charged in a coordinated assault, their blades flashing in the moonlight. Mikasa reached Selena first, her sword arcing toward Selena’s shoulder. But just as it was about to connect, Selena’s body twisted with a fluidity that defied reason. She pivoted sharply, avoiding the strike entirely, and began to move—the Waltz Of The Flowers.

It was unlike anything the scouts had ever seen. Selena spun, her blades flashing in perfect rhythm as she danced through their ranks. Each pivot brought another strike—clean, precise, and devastating. Within seconds, the forest became her stage, and the scouts were her unwilling partners.

Eren lunged at her from the left, but she ducked low, her blade grazing his side before she twisted and struck Jean’s sword from his hand. Mikasa swung again, but Selena danced away, pivoting into a spin that brought her blade across Connie’s chest, leaving a shallow but painful cut.

Sasha cried out as Selena’s blade grazed her shoulder, and Armin barely had time to raise his blade before it was knocked from his grasp. Each movement was calculated, each strike delivered with pinpoint accuracy.

Erwin and Hange attempted to flank her, but Selena’s focus shifted seamlessly. She struck Erwin first, her blade carving a deep gash in his shoulder that sent him staggering back. Hange’s attack was met with a graceful spin, and Selena’s blade left a sharp cut along her leg.

In less than thirty seconds, it was over.

The scouts lay scattered across the forest floor, groaning in pain and disbelief. None of them were dead—Selena had held back—but their pride and confidence were thoroughly shattered. Selena stood in the center of the chaos, her posture relaxed, her breathing steady. She had barely broken a sweat.

Levi, however, was far from finished.

He clenched his teeth in frustration as he charged at Selena again, his blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. He had sustained a cut to his arm during her technique, but he didn’t let it slow him down. His focus was razor-sharp, his movements unrelenting.

Selena’s grin widened as she parried his strikes, her green eyes gleaming with exhilaration. “You’re persistent,” she said, her voice almost playful. “But persistence isn’t enough.”

Levi didn’t answer. He pressed forward, his strikes coming faster and harder. Selena matched him step for step, her agility and flexibility allowing her to dodge and counter with unnerving ease. But Levi had learned from their first encounter. He could see the faint patterns in her movements, the way her body shifted before each strike.

When she adjusted her stance again, her feet pivoting sharply, Levi recognized the motion instantly. She’s setting up for that cutting technique again.

Selena’s movements became a blur as she prepared to unleash her devastating attack—the 100 Cuts of Pain. Levi braced himself, his gray eyes locked on hers. This time, he was ready.

The sound of blades slicing through the air filled the forest as Selena executed her technique, but Levi moved with precision and instinct. He dodged and deflected, managing to avoid most of the strikes. By the time Selena’s attack ended, he had only sustained about ten shallow cuts—but it was enough to anger him further.

Before Selena could recover, Levi surged forward. He grabbed her by the neck with one hand, his other gripping his blade as he forced her to the ground. Selena’s eyes widened slightly, but her smirk didn’t falter.

“Well,” she said softly, her voice tinged with amusement. “Looks like the Capitán finally got his hands on me.”

Levi’s grip tightened, his gray eyes burning with a mixture of frustration and determination. “You’re not getting away this time.”

Selena’s grin widened, her poison-green eyes gleaming with defiance even as she lay pinned beneath him. “We’ll see about that.”

Levi's knee pressed firmly into Selena’s stomach as his iron grip pinned her neck to the ground, while his other hand gripped her wrists together. His cold gray eyes burned with frustration and determination, while Selena’s poison-green ones sparkled with mischief and amusement. Despite being at a clear disadvantage, Selena still had the audacity to grin up at him, her lips curling into a sultry smirk.

“You know,” she purred, her voice low and teasing, “You’re turning me on, Capitán. Your hand around my neck, the way you’re manhandling me—it’s kind of hot.”

The silence in the forest was deafening. Every scout, from Erwin to Sasha, froze where they sat nursing their wounds. Sasha let out a small squeak of disbelief. Jean’s jaw dropped. Connie audibly muttered, “What the hell is wrong with her?” Eren stared, his fists trembling in frustration, while Mikasa’s expression darkened. Even Hange, usually unflappable, blinked in astonishment as she adjusted her glasses.

Levi, however, was seething. His lips curled into a snarl as he glared down at her. “Shut your shitty mouth,” he growled, his voice cold and venomous.

Selena only laughed, undeterred. “Why so serious, Capitán? You don’t like a little foreplay?”

Before Levi could respond, Selena suddenly arched her back and swung her right leg up with breathtaking flexibility, hooking it over his shoulder. With a sharp push from the back of her knee, she propelled herself upward, using the leverage to almost roll out from under him.

Levi reacted instantly, his hand snapping out to grab her leg and slam her back into the dirt. His grip tightened as he wrestled her into submission, holding both of her wrists in one hand. His other hand clamped down firmly on her thigh, immobilizing her right leg before she could try another stunt.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Levi hissed through gritted teeth.

Selena raised a single eyebrow, her smirk undeterred. 

She shifted again, this time using her free left leg to hook around the right side of Levi’s neck. With an impressive burst of strength, she tried to lift herself off the ground, twisting her body in an almost serpentine motion. The maneuver nearly worked—her flexibility and agility were unmatched—but Levi’s grip on her thigh tightened at the last second, slamming her back down.

“Enough,” Levi snapped, flipping her onto her stomach and pinning her wrists behind her back. He placed a knee on her lower back, his other hand pressing firmly on her thigh to keep her from wriggling free. For a moment, it seemed like she was finally subdued.

But Selena wasn’t done. She arched her back in a deliberate, calculated motion, pressing her hips upward and causing her butt to push against Levi’s crotch. The sudden, awkward contact made Levi falter for just a fraction of a second, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Damn it,” Levi hissed under his breath, his frustration mounting.

Selena seized the opportunity, twisting her body with remarkable speed and turning onto her back. Levi tried to regain control, pinning her arms above her head, but Selena wrapped her legs around his neck, squeezing tightly as she forced him back and tried to choke him. The two were locked in a tense hold, each struggling to overpower the other. Their movements were so intense, so precise, that the surrounding scouts could do nothing but watch in stunned silence.

The tension built as the stalemate dragged on. Both of them were breathing heavily, their eyes locked in a battle of wills. But Levi’s superior physical strength began to prevail, his grip tightening and his movements growing more deliberate as he pried Selena’s legs around his neck with his free hand. But Selena had one last trick up her sleeve.

Her sharp eyes observed Levi’s expression, noting every flicker of emotion that crossed his face. One thing she had learned about him in their short time together was that Levi Ackerman was meticulous, precise,—especially about cleanliness. And he also seemed to care very much for his comrades.

A wicked idea formed in her mind.

She hocked back her saliva loudly, making it clear what she was about to do. “You know, Capitán,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery, “you don’t want to keep me pinned like this. I might get… messy.”

Levi’s eyes widened slightly, a look of pure disgust flashing across his face. “You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled.

Selena smirked, repeating the motion dramatically as if preparing to spit right in his face. Levi instinctively pulled his head back, his grip on her wrists faltering for just a moment. It was all Selena needed.

With lightning speed, she twisted her arm free and reached for one of the spare blades strapped to her back and flung it into the dark forest. Levi’s grip returned immediately, slamming her back into the dirt, but Selena’s plan was already in motion.

“What the hell did you just—” Levi began, but his words were cut off by the sound of snapping branches above them.

Selena had thrown the blade with accuracy, striking a tree she had noticed earlier—a massive oak with an old, heavy branch that hung precariously over the scouts. The blade embedded itself in the branch’s weak point, sending it crashing downward with alarming speed.

Levi’s eyes widened as he heard the sharp crack of wood splitting, his head snapping toward the sound. The branch was tumbling straight toward the injured scouts below.

“Shit,” Levi hissed, releasing Selena without a second thought. His ODM gear activated with a hiss as he launched himself toward the falling branch.

Erwin and Mikasa shouted warnings, but it was too late for most of them to react. Sasha, Armin, and Hange were directly in the branch’s path, their faces pale as they struggled to move in time. Levi reached them just as the branch was about to hit, slicing it into pieces with two precise swings of his blade. The shattered wood thudded harmlessly to the ground, scattering debris but leaving everyone unharmed.

“Move faster next time,” Levi growled, his tone icy as he glared at the shaken group.

But Selena was gone.

The moment Levi let go of her, she had bolted into the shadows, darting through the trees with the grace and speed of her namesake. She reached the riverbank in seconds, her heart pounding with exhilaration. Without hesitation, she dove into the water, her body disappearing beneath the dark surface.

By the time the scouts regrouped and reached the river, there was no sign of her. The water was too dark, the current too swift, and their injuries too severe to pursue her further.

Eren slammed his fist into the ground, his face twisted with rage. “Damn it! She got away again!”

“Of course she did,” Jean muttered, his tone bitter. “She always does.”

Levi stood at the riverbank, his fists clenched tightly. His cuts stung, his pride burned, and his frustration was palpable. He couldn’t believe it. For the second time, Selena de la Rosa had slipped through his fingers.His gray eyes scanned the dark surface of the water as though willing her to reappear, but he knew she was gone. The Black Cat had slipped through his grasp once again, and the fury bubbling inside him was palpable.

Behind him, the scouts staggered into the clearing, their movements sluggish and pained. Mikasa’s uniform was torn, blood dripping from a shallow cut on her arm. Armin limped slightly, his face pale and his eyes wide with lingering fear. Sasha and Connie leaned on each other for support, both sporting fresh bruises and cuts. Even Erwin and Hange, usually composed, bore the marks of Selena’s devastating technique.

Levi turned slowly to face them, his expression thunderous. The scouts froze under his gaze, the sheer intensity of his anger hitting them like a physical force. No one dared to speak. The only sound was the faint rustling of leaves and the uneven breaths of the injured.

“That sneaky little bitch,” Levi growled, his voice low and dangerous. The words dripped with venom, each syllable a razor-sharp blade. “She got away again.”

Jean, standing slightly to the side, muttered under his breath, “Of course she did. She’s like a ghost.”

Levi’s glare snapped to Jean, silencing him instantly. “She’s not a ghost,” he said, his tone ice-cold. “She’s flesh and blood. And the next time I see her, I’ll skin her alive.”

Mikasa adjusted her grip on her remaining blade, her dark eyes flicking to Levi. “We can go after her,” she said, her voice steady despite her injuries. “We can still catch her if we—”

“No,” Levi cut her off sharply. His gaze swept over the group, taking in their battered forms. “Look at yourselves. You’re all injured, tired, and half-useless right now. She knows it. She’ll have more traps set, waiting for us to stumble into them.”

Eren’s fists clenched, his frustration boiling over. “So what are we supposed to do? Just let her go? After everything she’s done?”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, and Eren immediately regretted speaking. “She’s not getting away,” Levi said, his voice deceptively calm. “But if we rush in like idiots, we’ll all end up dead. She’s smart, faster than any of you, and probably has traps waiting for us all over this forest. Use your damn heads.”

Eren bit his lip, glancing at Armin for support. Armin, however, remained silent, his expression thoughtful but grim.

Erwin stepped forward, leaning slightly on his uninjured leg. His voice was calm, but the weight of their failure was evident in his tone. “Levi’s right. We’re in no condition to continue pursuing her tonight. Our priority is regrouping and tending to our injuries.”

“But Commander,” Hange protested, wincing as she adjusted the torn fabric over her wounded shoulder. “If we let her get too far, we might lose her completely.”

“We won’t lose her,” Levi interjected, his voice like steel. “She’s not running away. She’s playing a game, and she’ll keep playing until she thinks she’s won.”

Sasha, her voice shaky, piped up from where she sat nursing a bruised rib. “She’s not… normal. The way she fights, the way she moves… It’s like she’s not even human.”

“She’s human,” Levi snapped, his gray eyes flashing. “She bleeds, just like the rest of us. And I’ll make her bleed again.”

Jean glanced at Connie nervously before speaking. “Captain, she almost killed some of us tonight. I mean, if that branch had fallen a second earlier, Hange Armin and Sasha would’ve—”

“Don’t remind me,” Levi said curtly, his voice cold but simmering with anger. His gaze briefly flicked to Hange, Armin and Sasha, all of whom avoided his eyes. The realization that he had been forced to let Selena go to save his squad gnawed at him like a festering wound. She had played him, and he hated her for it.

Levi turned back toward the river, his jaw tightening. He could still see her in his mind’s eye—those poison-green eyes, that infuriating smirk, the way she moved like a shadow through the trees. She had embarrassed him, humiliated him in front of his squad, and nearly killed his comrades. But more than that, she had forced him to make a choice: his team or his pride.

Levi Ackerman didn’t lose. Not to Titans, not to enemies, and certainly not to some cocky assassin with a flair for theatrics. The next time he crossed paths with Selena de la Rosa, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. He would end her.

“She’s made her move,” Levi said quietly, his voice cold and resolute. “But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Erwin nodded, his expression grim. “We’ll regroup and strategize. This isn’t a defeat—it’s a delay.”

Hange adjusted her glasses, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the tension. “She’s good. But Levi’s better. I’d bet my glasses on it.”

Levi said nothing, his gaze fixed on the dark forest beyond the river. The anger rolling off him was almost tangible, a quiet storm waiting to unleash its fury. His squad could feel it, the weight of his resolve bearing down on them like a physical force.

“Rest up,” Levi ordered, his tone sharp and unyielding. “We’ll find her. And when we do…” His voice trailed off, but the threat hung heavy in the air.

The younger Scouts exchanged uneasy glances. Eren looked ready to burst with frustration, while Mikasa’s eyes glinted with determination. Jean muttered something under his breath about “crazy assassins,” and Connie leaned against Sasha, his face pale but resolute.

“Do you think we’ll stand a chance next time?” Sasha asked quietly, her voice laced with doubt.

Mikasa’s grip on her blade tightened. “We’ll have to.”

Armin shook his head slowly, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll need to be smarter. She’s not just fast—she’s strategic. She reads us like a book.”

“And we’ll be ready,” Levi said flatly, his words cutting through the murmurs. “Because the next time I see that filthy stray cat, I’ll make sure she doesn’t escape. Not again.”

The night deepened, the forest shrouded in an oppressive silence. Somewhere beyond the river, Selena de la Rosa was out there, no doubt smirking to herself. But Levi didn’t care. His anger, his determination—it would fuel him for the battles ahead. The hunt wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.

~

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