#automatic noise removal

[kids-worldfun]

Optimizing Your Workflow with Denoise AI: Say Goodbye to Noise

The Importance of Denoising in Video Optimization When it comes to video production, noise can be a major issue that affects the overall quality of your content. Whether you’re filming in a busy street or a crowded room, unwanted noise can distract viewers and take away from the message you’re trying to convey. This is where denoising technology comes in to save the day. Denoising in video…

[obeymeluv]

Enchanting a Fae - Malleus x Reader

A random Malleus x Reader

Malleus isn't sure why he comes to your dorm so often. His booted feet take him there automatically, he supposes. If Lilia were to ask him, he's just making the rounds on his usual haunts and looking for pieces of forgotten grotesques and gargoyles in need of cleaning. Ramshackle was a prime destination for all things forgotten and dusty, after all.

Perhaps it can also be a home to things muddy and sopping.

A small smile twists the edges of Malleus' lips as he blinks rain from his emerald eyes. It's ironic that he, future King of Briar Valley and fifth most powerful mage in the world, was caught unaware by the weather.

How very human. It's a beautiful experience, to drown in the quiet hush of rain.

He steps lightly but with purpose, long shadow breezing up the walkway to your door. It swells as lightning tap-dances behind him. Thunder rumbles, much like the sound he tries to swallow down as you crack the door open hesitantly, face melting into one of welcome.

Oh, child of man...Malleus feels the warm swirl in his chest tighten as you take his hand and pull him inside. He ducks his head, finally remembering to pull his horns down enough so they don't scrape the frame like they have in the past.. "Fae are supposed to be invited in," he reminds you. "And I told you, you always have a standing invitation." you say with a gentle dismissiveness that both humbles and endears him. You continue to show him that you care not for his title or his princely demands. You treat him like all the others. He does his best to stand on the welcome mat you thrifted, afraid the water will rot the ancient floor and leave you with something else to fix. You scurry back with towels and some spare clothes that smell like human. Not you, but human. Malleus can't stop the angry rumble in his throat as he realizes that smell is probably from your human friends at Heartslabyul. Clothes for other men? Disgusting. You always forget he has another set of vocal chords and he excuses the noise as 'clearing his throat'. "It's all I have," you murmur, unsure now if you should take the offer back. He can tell you're still debating that uncouth noise, the slip of the tongue.

"I accept your generosity." Malleus knows it won't be a perfect fit, but it would do better than your clothes. Not that he didn't like the idea of adorning himself in your scent. Turning away from you a little, Malleus removes the purple striped belt at his waist and undoes the many gold buttons on his curious coat. You can't tell what the black shirt is underneath but it sticks to him and you find yourself trying to tear your eyes away and commit him to memory all at once.

Not in the creepy way! Just in the 'I've never seen Malleus in just gloves, a shirt, pants, and boots before' kind of way. He's none the wiser, realizing he has a real problem on his hands. The gloves he chose are water resistant but they've somehow gone flush against his slick skin and feel more like a seal than a savior. His draconian nails cannot save him, blunted and useless in the leather. Should he use his teeth? What if he hooked them on the edge of a horn and just shimmied it off? You can practically read his mind and grab his hand before he can raise it near his head. "Don't do that! You'll ruin them!" you give a huffy laugh at his simple, boyish logic and it takes every ounce of control from all his decades of walking upright to keep his tail from smashing a hole in your floor.

He watches you drape the loaner clothes around your neck like some sort of scarf as you motion for his hand.

Your hands are almost cartoonishly small in his as they trace the stitching and try to feel for any buttons or ridges. Small, but so considerate and so warm. Dragons run warm from the fire and magic in their blood but he cannot explain why your touch is absolutely radiating and searing him in the most comforting way through the leather. He almost hopes you never figure out how to take them off so you can just fiddle with his hands forever. Malleus relaxes into your touch, basking in the care and attention.

His hopes are dashed when the glove separates slightly from his lax wrist and you free his hand. You pull off the other one. If he had no shame, he'd make a cool request for you to hold them and warm them. "Boots off, then change." you give him a small rag for his hands and point to his feet. Delighted and somewhat surprised to be your willing subject, Malleus obeys and starts to take off his boots.

He braces himself against your wall with one hand, mindful not to put himself through it like he almost did the mine tunnel at Beanfest. One boot off, he wrestles blindly with the other. Malleus is much more interested in how you tend to the pitiful fire in your fireplace. Your back is to him and whatever you're wearing leaves you shapeless but cozy. The embers crackle in the hearth, the light dancing across your face in a way that makes something baser claw at the pit of his stomach.

Shiny thing. Dragons like shiny things. You would be a most gorgeous shiny thing. Always ethereal, no matter what you're wearing or doing. If you would permit him, you would be his most valued treasure.

His heart sings at the thought, almost tying itself in a knot. That low, tingling feeling comes back to him and Malleus wants to croon his Dragon Song. It would fall on deaf ears, so to speak, as you have no dragon blood to appeal to. "Your eyes are doing that thing again." Malleus flinched a little, green fire sparking in his mouth as a warning puff of smoke dissipated between you. He didn't realize you'd come upon him again. The dragon relaxed, turning his head away as he exhaled the building smoke through his nose before it could send him into an undignified coughing fit.

Lilia had been consulting his grandmother on some behaviors as of late and both arrived to the same conclusion: he's experiencing draconian puberty. 'The thing' his eyes do are a sign of said puberty. It is the unfurling of all his emotions, the dilation of his eyes signaling his interest and trying to draw you ever deeper to him. In a way, it is a thrall, but it leaves him at your mercy as much as it should leave you in his.

Somehow, you don't take it as hard. If his world wasn't a sudden explosion of the scent of your skin and soap, the heat of your body, and the curious fondness with which you look at him, he would ponder this injustice further.

But he does not. Right now he can't even find the words for a simple lie, a diversion, as he breathes in the smell of you and tries not to melt. To have you touch him right now would be the worst thing but he's never wanted it more. He wants so badly to sink his fangs into your wrist, your neck, and let you wear the affectionate bruises like a family crest. His family crest.

"You're supposed to be getting changed," you admonish him.

"Mmm, but I can't," Malleus refrains from snuggling into the small towel you're blotting against his face. He closes his eyes and tries to sense the heat of your hand through the fabric as you move carefully around his lashes. "I'm being tended to and it would be rude to interrupt," he teases.

"No point in giving you dry clothes if you're going to get them wet putting them on." you laugh. He swallows thickly as you brush his throat dry. "Now go change," you swat him with the rag. Body towel and clothes in one hand, damp footprints follow Malleus to a spare room.

As he suspected, the clothes were ill-fit for his frame. Spade and Trappola were smaller than he was, being human and all. It was another thing entirely to get the shirt over his head without shredding it on his horns. He's afraid to move his arms too much and hopes he's not offending you by pulling the pants low enough to give his tail room. You've just finished laying his clothes out on dry towels before the fire and he's grateful.

It is a dying fire. You have a small supply of kindling and old papers to feed it but he doesn't think it will be enough. "I would like to repay your generosity with a gift. May I?" "You know you don't have to get me anything," you wave him off. He's not sure if it's a human trait or a you trait but you don't take easily to gifts.

"But it is practical and will serve us both," he knows he's caught your attention. He can see you trying to figure out what kind of gift that would be. Malleus approaches the fire, kneels down, and breathes it in. Dragons who can breathe fire, like himself, can convert outside sources of heat to their fire on rare occasions. You jump when he spits out a green flame and it roars to life, casting the walls in jeweled light and emitting a heat you didn't know you missed.

"Cozy!" you chirp. It was a gentle kind of heat that would be perfect for snuggling under a blanket. He sits on the other end of the sofa, a respectful cushion between you, and rests his head on a hand as he looks at you.

"And it will last much longer! You needn't fret about it getting out of control, either. It is my fire, and I can control it." he sees the beginning of sleep on you. Malleus grew up with Silver and was all too familiar with the slow descent into a nap. You make a valiant effort, he will give you that. You're in the middle of a soft argument about being rude to company and Malleus laughs despite himself.

He dropped in uninvited. Certainly that's more rude, yes?

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the fae more amused than he has been in a long time as your eyes get heavier. You look stunning in the green glow and he can't help but think you'd look just as ravishing in black.

In a crown. On a throne. In his bed. All of these things have the Dragon Song welling up in him again. The buzzing in his chest closes off his ears; Malleus jumps to alertness as you tug gently on the ends of his dark hair. "You let your hair down. It'll get weird if it dries in a ponytail holder."

It takes some effort, but he untangles it from his hair. "What shall I do about you, Child of Man?" he muses. "I will be forever indebted to your attentiveness."

"Did you find anything cool on your walk? You always show me." your eyes twinkle with the vestiges of consciousness. This is your one final push before succumbing to sleep, he can tell. He did, in fact, find things to show you and had forgotten them until now. When you're drenched, everything just feels heavy and soaked through. Malleus fishes the random items from his coat pocket and settles back down on the couch.

You've seen all manner of things at this point--feathers, polished rocks, twisted roots that looked interesting, pieces of statues, actual gems--and it never gets old. He presents you with a rock carved into the shape of a bear, a chunk of what might have been an old cup, and a ring.

The ring doesn't catch your eye right away. You're too busy playing with the bear. He wiggles his hand so the firelight catches it and you still. Malleus takes the bear from you, flipping your hand over to slide it on your finger. "A gift, my dearest."

"Malleus, I--" you start to protest.

"We fae are no strangers to offerings, both giving and receiving. It would be a disservice to present you with anything less." he speaks over you, his words gentle but commanding. He kisses your hand.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of dating him. It just seemed a little silly--a random no-name person and the fae prince? What kind of cliche was this?

A handsome one that was staring you right in the face.

"If you'd like more, the best I can offer you is a kingdom." he teases, lounging back against the sofa. He said it so casually that it caught you off guard. You're face is almost unbearably hot and Malleus chuckles.

"A whole kingdom?" you finally recover. "I'll take it."

Oh, there it went. Malleus felt the trap snap shut on his heart. This was the lethal moment Lilia warned him. He was helplessly smitten and enchanted. Irreversibly so.

"Truly?" he's before you in a second, one hand around your waist and the other holding the one with the ring. "Now is not the time to jest, Child of Man. I offer you my heart in earnest and the reply must be just as true!" he's staring up at you through his bangs and you swear you see more scales on his forehead.

"W-Well, yeah," you stutter. "I wouldn't mind. Just kind of thought we would do more dates and stuff first," your face was heating up again.

"We shall, as many as you like!" he's scooped you up in one arm, cradling you to his chest. You threw your legs around him so you didn't fall backwards but he doesn't notice, pulling your other hand over his shoulder. "Every day, even! As soon as the weather clears, in fact!" "But it'll be dark out!" you protest. Malleus probably could change the weather if he wanted but that wouldn't stop the ground from squelching and things being nasty. He stopped excitedly rambling about walks and things to do.

"We've walked in the dark before?" he doesn't understand why you don't want to go out this particular time. "And I have seen you to your door, safe and sound every time."

"But we're already here. Together. Inside." you explain slowly. "Maybe we could...cuddle...a little."

Oh yes. Splendid idea! Malleus all but dives for the couch at the suggestion. It is a paltry nest but it's yours. You're still recovering from the recoil, glad he fell back first and didn't squish you.

Did you just hear something rip? You hope he didn't break the couch. You don't get much time to think about it as he pulls you close and tucks you under his chin like he's been rehearsing it with a pillow. He's just the right combination of soft and muscle, of guard and gentle as he figures out where to put his hands. He settles for one supporting his head and the other cradling yours.

It's very awkward because he's mostly off the couch but he can't be bothered. You're slowly drifting to sleep in his arms and he's never felt more joy. He watches with deep interested, practically holding his breath as you sleep. Faes don't need as much sleep as humans but he doesn't think he could sleep if he tried because you've been courted by him!

Malleus is roused by his phone sometime later. The couch is small and cumbersome to him but it's held up. He begrudgingly untangled himself from you to answer it, long arm just reaching it on the table.

"Yes?"

It's Lilia. "Where are you, young man? We've been trying to reach you!"

He had fifteen missed calls from Sebek, eight from Lilia, and some text messages from Silver.

"Ensnared, I fear." Malleus smiles into the crown of your head. "I'm doomed to languish in absolute bliss. It's a very powerful enchantment, you see."

"Taken the leap, have you, Malleus?" he could hear the smile in Lilia's voice.

"I have, and I've landed in something quite wonderful."

"We fae are supposed to trick and trap, not the other way around! But...at least you're safe. Make it known that I will not tolerate--"

"Any eggs before marriage." Malleus rolled his eyes. He'd only heard that a million times recently.

"If you're not back at Diasomnia in two hours, I'll break that enchantment myself. Understood?"

"And if I object?" Malleus challenged, patting your head as you began to move.

There was a moment of silence. "I shall tell your grandmother."

Malleus hung up.

That might do the trick, he thought, brows raised. His grandmother was from an older generation of fae who were still entrenched in anti-human beliefs. Would she love you because he did? Could you enchant her, too? One look at your sleeping face, so at peace and pressed up against him, had him convinced.

Yes, he was pretty sure you could enchant any fae. It certainly worked on him.

[woozydaydreams]

'Cause You've Been So Out of Touch

paring(s): Huntr/X & Saja Boys x reader

Warning(s): Changes in the movie, Saja Boys made-up lore (that I will be adding onto, [name] is somewhat a part of it), make-up scenes/lore.

Divider Creds: @cafekitsune

prev|

Chapter 1 - Lost Memories

A beeping sound sounded across the [h/c] girl’s room. She lifted her head from her stomach-lying position before shutting off the alarm clock. Ruffling her hair, she slid off her bed and put on her slippers. Then, she turned on the news on her TV and went to brush her teeth.

[name] liked the background noise, finding herself immersed in the world rather than standing in peer silence.

“Reporting in, fans outraged and hurt after the number one ranked group, “Huntr/x” canceled their live performance of their newly released promo, “Golden.” Instead of refunds, they want their performance. Any updated news other than the fact that they’ve canceled has not been revealed, as their manager has been dealing with the refunds and updates. Going to the weather channel, Jin-ho-nim will catch us up.” 

[name] finished her breakfast before shutting off the TV. She then looked at her phone as her parents messaged her, “Before heading out, make sure to lock the door, and be sure to be safe throughout the day, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” [name]’s father wasn’t great at words affectionately; he is better through actions, so [name] knew this was his way of saying “Love You”.

She knew her mother probably forgot, which always allowed her father to remind her. 

Enough about their love story.

[name] still lived with her parents. A couple of times, she did think about getting her type of living situation, but whenever she brought it up, her parents would just encourage her to keep living with them, so she agreed since there were more benefits in doing so anyway.

Finally making her way to the cafe she unlocked the back of the building with her keycard before it automatically locked and got into her apron, they didn’t have a set uniform, they just had to make sure that what you were wearing wouldn’t be unprofessional and wouldn’t cause too much trouble or get in the way with things as they were working.

She tied her hair back and made sure it was secure so that it wouldn’t cause any violations before unlocking the front door and putting some ice and water in her water bottle before getting back to the cash register. 

The door chimed, the quick ring of the bell invaded her eyes, melodic, but also a reminder that she was not going to be able to go home anytime soon.

Five attractive men entered the cafe, but it was almost every day that someone came into the cafe and was attractive, so she just smiled and welcomed them in.

UrmmmBa~

[name] blinked, although her smile hadn’t been removed from her face, she rubbed her ears, wondering what that sound was.

“Welcome to MoonHoney Cafe, how may I assist you?”

“What do you recommend?” The leader of the group spoke up, he had black hair and aside from the fact that the entire group themselves looked like models, he stood out as the others were just looking around, observing around and admiring(?) the cafe.

“Straight black coffee.”

“Great, we’ll take five of those.” He leaned against the counter, his eyes glowed a golden yellow, but she turned away, seeing that some paper cups had fallen. She turned back toward the man, and for now would ignore the cups.

“Awesome, hot or cold?”

“Hot.”

“Do you have a preferred option?”

“No.”

“Dark roast it is. Size?”

“Not too much, but not too little.”

“I’ll do a sixteen ounce for you. For here or to go?”

“For here.”

“$21.64.” He handed her a crumpled-up $50, and she gave back the change

“Name for the order?”

“Jinu.”

“Alright, you can sit anywhere you want while you wait.” 

[name] turned around before putting some coffee grains onto a scale to measure the amount out before letting it be turned into dust in the coffee grinding machine whenever another group of people arrived.

A bunch of tired teens entered.

“Welcome to MoonHoney, what can I get you guys today?”

“Okay, I want a matcha latte with whipped cream and wafers on the side, he wants a marshmallow chocolate caramel mocha with extra foam and almond milk not whole milk with a croissant and she wants a vanilla frap with two pumps of lavender flavor and extra, and I mean extra, oreo chunks on top. All of these should be medium, and also it’s to go.” [name] took down the order before ringing them up.

“So, what’s with the long faces?” [name] poured all the brewed dark roast coffee into fancy ceramic cups before ringing the bell at the front of the desk.

“For… Jinu!” she announced, placing all the coffees on the tray at the front desk before turning back to the teenage group. The group of guys themselves grabbed their coffees and sat a little closer.

“It’s Huntr/X! I begged my mom to buy a ticket last night just for it to cancel so suddenly, like, it was announced canceled five minutes before, too! That’s just cruel, with no notice! We were so excited seeing a group perform live and up close!”

Weirdly enough, the door slightly blew open, letting the bell chime as a paper flew towards the group.

“Free, live performance from the ‘Saja Boys’ singing their new single, 'Soda Pop'?" the group shared a look and shrugged.

“Might as well, what else were we planning to do anyway…”

As the day passed, it was midday, and [name] closed the shop for a bit as her break had started and headed down an alleyway before entering “Doctor Han’s Tonics.”

He sold “tonics,” but they were just grape juice. She got it for a low price, and it was nice talking to him a few times. She. Honestly couldn’t believe that his store hadn’t closed down yet, as last time she checked, no one went there.

Unless they wanted to get scammed.

“Ah, I see, I see… No, actually, I don’t see. Very strange. You have a lot of walls up.”

A perky voice spoke up, “Whoa! He’s so good, right?”

Toning out the conversation, [name] focused in on the girls; they weren’t the best at disguises, but that was another conversation for another time.

“So that’s the girl mom was talking about,” [name] thought in her head, the corner of Rumi’s sleeve lifted, revealing patterns, which she hastily pulled down.

It seemed the group hadn’t noticed her yet.

She listened to how Doctor Han described them.

Zoey, energetic, a people pleaser, and in need of validation and praise, just so she knows she’s not being too much.

Mira, closed off, blunt, short temper, a bit rude at times, but only acting like that towards strangers and not people close to her, maybe afraid of being attached, or likely afraid of abandonment, which tie in together.

Rumi, walls are up, afraid to express secrets in fear of rejection, scared of her true self, and keeps to herself, covering up in more ways than one to both of the girls, despite the close friendship, maybe some type of influence encourages said acts. Fear of the truth, the unknown.

“Just give us the voice juice.” Mira backed up Rumi.

“Hm… I know just the tonics you need.” Just when Doctor Han was about to walk away, [name] stopped him.

[name] coughed in her fist, letting Doctor Han finally notice her, you’d think she was here to rob the place with the way he put on an unimpressed face.

The girls in their chairs tensed up, trying to cover their identities as [name] smiled at Doctor Han.

[name] had gotten lost one day, and mysteriously had went into Doctor Hans shop, he gave her free “tonics” and both her parents were frantic when Doctor Han contactated them (he was surprise a young girl her age wasn’t panicking and remembered her parents number) overall, she got free grape juice, now discounted and he got a picture with a celebrity and CEO. So a win was a win.

“Ajusshi, what’s with the long face? Your favorite kid is here, and you aren't going to greet me?” [name] grinned, but he only sighed and continued going to retrieve Rumi’s “tonics”.

“I’ll get your usual, just stay in the waiting room this time.”

That left her alone with the three girls in the room, a silent, tense atmosphere erupted before [name] popped it, saying some things, “Shame that your voice isn’t doing well, many people were excited for the concert.” 

“Oh- well- yeah, I guess we should introduce ourselves-” Rumi stuttered before nodding at the other girls.

“We are Hunters voices strong, hi we are, Hunter/X” Rumi started their introduction before they all stated their names.

“Right, Celine-ssi’s girls. I hope your voice gets better, oh, and Dr. Han might seem like a quack doctor, and while his “tonics” aren’t the best, his advice is… so, I'd listen to him if I were you guys.” Their eyes widened when [name] mentioned Celine.

Before they could respond, Doctor Han had already returned with the “tonics” for both Rumi and [name]. The girls quickly left while [name] plopped down onto the chair before focusing on the wall.

“You’re still here?”

“Relax, you’d be lonely without me anyway.” Doctor Han could only grumble like the old man he was.

[name] looked at the picture frame, and each one had some famous person/people on it. Some he was actually in, others he glued himself on… someone had to teach him Photoshop one of these days.

Her eyes narrowed down on four boys, all young.

“Ajusshi?” 

“What is it, kid?”

“Who were those boys?”

Doctor Han adjusted his glasses to focus on the picture she was pointing at before letting out a sigh.

“They were once popular, they were your age, when a freak accident happened, and well, they unfortunately passed.”

“Really? How come I haven't heard of them before?”

“Oh, you have.”

“It was the prime time of this shop; celebrities, models, idols, actors, and even up-and-coming people visited this shop.”

“Right…”

“Who raised you to interrupt your elders 🤨”

“Sorry, Ajusshi, continue.”

“As I was saying, this young group of boys had entered this place, they purchased some items, and after I offered for them to be put on this wall. It was one of the real encounters I had with a celebrity. They were around the same age as you, maybe a few years older.” Doctor Han had his hands on his back, gazing at the picture.

“They were sweet boys, I had written journals, I became their therapist, they stated I could 'read' people, and so I tried my best to support them. But one day they changed, in the blink of an eye, they had become famous, too busy to visit my shop, according to some news articles, they kept having arguments and tensions were rising.” Doctor Han shook his head. It seemed that bringing this up was an unpleasant memory.

“One day, their manager was off duty, somehow leading them to drive, who knew that during an argument, they would end up getting into a car accident.”

“It’s ironic, their group was called “Starry NightS, now they are the stars in the night sky.” Doctor Han pursed his lips.

“They were good kids, and before the fame and glory, they were teenage boys who were best friends with each other, with their problems they didn't have time to resolve. If only I had reached out to them… oh, what is this old man blabbering about? I was planning to get rid of my journal entries on them soon anyway; dwelling on old memories isn’t good for my age.”

[name] was interested in the boys; it wasn’t every day that a famous boy group band just went off the radar that quickly, and she swore to whoever that she had seen some individuals so dann familiar, and still she couldn't decipher it.

“I’ll take them, Ajusshi!” [name] sprang up, he only raised his eyebrow before gesturing for her to follow and handing her a little box of journals.

“All these journals were on those boys?”

“No more, no less, are you sure you can carry that yourself?”

“I carry heavy boxes for the cafe, I'll be fine… take care of yourself, Ajusshi.”

“You too, [name].”

[name] set the boxes aside before bowing and saying goodbye to Doctor Han, before heading out and back to the cafe, before a sing melody caught her attention.

She glanced at the figures dancing in the center before glancing at the opposing side, the same girls from before, well, from Huntr/X and the guys from the cafe but not just from the cafe… somewhere more familiar, almost like she just saw them, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

Guys, since they are in Korea, I try to use honorifics and titles, so if any of y'all are experts, please correct me on any of the usage.

Upon much thinking I decided to expand it because I love make shit up and adding to plot.

Also, can we talk about the fact that there is still so much left unanswered from the movie? Hopefully, they will come out with a sequel, and if not, here you go answering some unanswered questions with fake news.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁TAGLIST ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. @doggyteam2028 @jammycheese @p1nkpaperstars @whimsiecatcat @call-me-nyxx @ffcfffr @hornehlittleweeblet2 @momentomoribitch @pinkiria-ghost @ny0000mw00m @minkyungseokie @inojinieeee

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁UNSURE IF WANTED TO GET TAGGED ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. @kashasenpai @gremlinartstudio @yin-yun @adorabluesposts

I think that should be all the people who wanted to get tagged, and hopefully, I tagged all the right people.

[teaxtease]

₊˚.༄ K. HONGJOONG — on deck

synopsis: the captain of the ship cannot stand sharing.

warnings: 1.1k words, pirate AU, porn with a little plot, penetrative sex, afab reader, unprotected, rough, edging, one (1) pussy slap, very light choking and crying, biting, slight exhibitionism (?), cursing and dirty talk, hongjoong is whipped but a lil mean, yeosang mention, “baby” and “joong” used as pet names. not proofread.

you cover your mouth to no avail, the sensation of his skin on yours too much to bear. the bed shakes under your bodies, the wood of the ship’s floors creaking with the force pressed down on it. but hongjoong is laser focused, one of your legs pressed back and the other raised over his shoulder.

“slow down—“ you protest half-heartedly, but the man between your legs doesn’t abide by your request, a droplet of sweat dripping down his sharp jaw and landing on your stomach.

his eyes follow its trail down your navel hungrily, his calloused hand coming down to press on your lower abdomen, “feel me right here, baby? hm? talk to me, fuck, wanna hear you.”

“yeah,” you repeat desperately, legs threatening to kick with the new sensation, “cap’n, i’m gonna cum.”

the name makes his head fuzzy, not used to hearing his title anywhere but on deck, “uh-uh, not yet.”

his thrusts slow down, and he watches with a lopsided grin as your eyes snap open and land on him. you gulp down a complaint, knowing better than to talk back now, “but i apologized, i just… wanted your attention.”

he leans down, gold chains grazing your skin with the new angle. he nudges his nose against your jawline, nipping softly at the skin there, “i know. this is a reminder.”

you arch into him, your chest bumping against his. “joong, i didn’t mean to…” you’re cut off by a moan when he snakes a hand down to play with your clit, his thick rings grazing your skin deliciously, “i didn’t mean to, i promise.”

“no?” he asks, unconvinced by your words, “didn’t mean to flirt with our navigator? didn’t mean to? that’s funny.”

his toxic streak of jealousy shines through his questioning and you give into it, “cause you were ignoring me.”

you feel the sting of a light slap against your cunt and your body shudders at the conflicting pain, your eyes rolling back at the warm feeling.

“so your solution is to brush up against another crew member?” he quips almost amusedly, enjoying the build up of your noises before pulling his hand away from your arousal and tapping his fingers on your bottom lip.

you open up automatically, answering with a muffled groan around his digits. he looks at you, lovestruck but unwilling to relent, “should’ve used your words and told me you were feeling neglected. i would’ve made time for you, baby. i always do.”

you wrap your tongue around his middle and ring fingers, sucking them into your mouth as if your life depended on it. in that moment, it felt like it did, your chest would surely cave in if he edged you again. every time you thought he’d finally forgiven you, he’d slow down or stop, stilling inside you as you clenched around him with exasperation.

but when he finally catches the tears welling up in your eyes, he feels himself twitch, a barely audible moan tumbling from his glistening lips, “fuck, are you gonna cry?”

the humiliation makes tears prick at your eyes, and he removes his hand from your mouth to wrap around your throat and pull you in for a sloppy kiss. the exchange is all spit and teeth, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he doesn’t know how to do anything but that. you move your hips against his and he allows you to, biting down softly on your bottom lip to egg you on.

he’s dazed when you pull apart, his eyebrows knitting together as he watches hot tears spill down your cheeks. he’s licks them up faster than you can even register what he’s doing, the saltiness of the fluid making his eyes screw shut. “are you sorry?” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you’re so attentive to him that you think you hear a whine.

“it won’t happen again,” you assure him, your arms wrapping around his neck and heels pushing against his backside to push him into you, “joong, please. they probably all heard us by now, they know who we belong to, please.”

hot sparks of desire thrum in his chest as you indirectly call yourself his and him yours. he presses softly against the sides of your neck, “yeah? is that what you wanted? other people to hear this?”

in your fogged mind, you barely capture his words, nodding enthusiastically to anything he says, “please, i just want you.”

he pulls you even closer, roughly tugging your legs to press himself into you at a new angle. he hears the commotion on the deck above and can’t bring himself to care in the slightest when you breathlessly moan his name.

“i want you too. love having you like this,” he rambles as he builds up his thrusts again, “so fuckin’ wet for me. you’re dripping all over yourself.”

you throw your head back against the cushions as his pelvis brushes against your clit with every pointed thrust. he continues, “where do you want me, baby?”

“inside,” you plead, fighting against the urge to close your legs at the overpowering force of your impending climax, “i need it.”

hongjoong thinks he feels drool collect at the corner of his mouth, not questioning your answer as he begins to draw tight circles around your pulsing clit.

your grip on his forearms tightens as stars rise in your vision, finishing with a silent plea of his name. watching you tips him over the edge, his gaze focusing on your face as he follows your instruction to finish inside you.

you both reach your highs with heaving chests and restless hips, meeting each other’s desperate thrusts halfway. when you start complaining, he pulls out, dropping his forehead on your stomach to regain his strength.

a few moments pass before you hear a hesitant knock on the door and a deep voice, “uh, seonghwa says we’re ready to set sail on your command.”

you immediately recognize the voice as yeosang’s, the navigator you’d batted your eyelashes at to get a rise out of hongjoong. the latter looks up at you with an amused grin at the coincidence, his voice hushed against your skin, “you gonna answer or not?”

hongjoong’s petty question makes your heart stutter. he knew the younger man was addressing him, but he wanted you to answer for him and confirm that it was you under him in the captain’s room.

you gulp down your embarrassment, trying to ignore the open mouthed kisses the captain was leaving just under your belly button, “he’ll be right out, yeosang, thank… you.”

“no rush. yeah, we can, uh, we can wait. yeah,” you hear from the other side of the door, the baritone of your friend’s voice wavering slightly.

you feel a slight nibble just over the bone of your hip, a satisfied smile on hongjoong’s face as he straightens up. he watches you clench around nothing, his eyes following the mix of your fluids traveling down your bottom, “you heard him. let’s keep him waiting just a little longer.”

2/8 posted, 6 to go… what AUs do you wanna see? ^^

[valentinedagger]

when i was a child, once it had become obvious that spanking was considered gauche and extreme among their early-2000s drum-circle-attending hippie friends, my parents moved to a new default punishment: standing in the corner.

it was very simple. when told, i was to stand facing the corner, not moving, until i was told i could stop. in retrospect, the standard seemed to be to leave me until i had entirely stopped crying, then to start counting down some short, arbitrary block of time (maybe 5, 10 minutes) once i was silent and still. at the time, i didn't know this; the corner was a limbo state, it was a place i was suspended indefinitely til my parents considered me appropriate to deal with once again.

i wasn't to fidget, to sit down, make noises, sing or talk to myself. theoretically, i was supposed to "reflect on what i did wrong," although that never happened. i was, what, five? six?

frequently, i would get a cold, nauseating sensation that crept its way up my back. i would feel stiff and tense, the muscles in my neck and shoulders growing rigid, goosebumps prickling. i would feel as though i was being watched. i would sneak a peak over my shoulder at those times; when i saw i was alone, i would shift and stand on one foot for a bit, then the other, in order to take the weight off the other and ease some of my aches. sometimes i would start whispering to an imaginary friend, or lean against the wall. anything i knew i was not allowed to do, that i could immediately stop when i heard one of my parents approaching.

one specific time, i got that sensation. the creeping dread, the deep bonesickness of feeling watched. i snuck a peek over my shoulder.

my father had crept into my room, and was watching me silently.

"face the corner," he said.

i did.

almost as an afterthought, he told me i had earned myself more time.

the horror this evokes in me can't be described; it's a sheer, yawning precipice of paranoia, buttressed by the casual, uncaring authority of a parent-god, the architect of the childhood panopticon so utterly foreign, so removed from your world, that they not only do not, but cannot comprehend the pain and fear they're inflicting on you. my feet hurt. my legs hurt. my back ached. i was itchy and damp, utterly helpless, bound by rules i didn't understand and at the mercy of beings whose feelings and responses were utterly unpredictable and incomprehensible.

my father wanted to go play a video game.

i write a lot of horror that i don't think most people would automatically classify as "horror." most of it is an attempt to capture this feeling: the shaky, racing terror of survival without knowing the rules, the stakes, even the consequences. the understanding that anything could be a wrong move, that self-preservation can be punished. or it can be rewarded. or it can go entirely ignored. i want to capture that nauseating, paranoid dread and bottle it. every room is an escape room, the win conditions are up to the gamemaster, and he will change them. he always changes them.

maybe he's watching. maybe he went to the bathroom. maybe he forgot about you. you could always try looking over your shoulder to see.

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt.9

Word Count: 22.4k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, mentions of rape, murder, extortion, threats, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, Xavier appears, tw vomiting, flashbacks of blood and gore, nausea, kidnapping

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey, @webmvie, @housesortinghat, @fading-twinkle, @shoruio, @gojos1ut, @solomonlover, @cheesenjam, @elegantnightblaze, @mavphorias, @babylavendersblog, @burntoutfrogacademic, @sinstae, @certainduckanchor, @ladyackermanisdead, @sh4nn, @milkandstarlight, @lilyadora, @depressedwhore,

AN: Hi all! This is of course on A03! I love this story so much! Each chapter is so fun to write!! The tension, the devastation. Its SO delicious!! So sorry for the late upload, I had a BUNCH of exams last week and a wedding to attend on the weekend so I couldn't just down and write. If I have u tagged here and u want to be removed from future tag lists just shoot me a dm! Enjoy my lovelies ! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

“Eat,” he said firmly, the command in his voice clear and sharp. “I won’t repeat myself.” You froze, your breath catching in your throat. “If you kill our baby,” Sylus continued, his voice low and deliberate, “I kill him. Pretty fair, wouldn't you agree?”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.10

The towering glass building of the Hunter's Association stood like a beacon in the heart of the city, its sleek, modern architecture gleaming under the afternoon sun. The mirrored panels reflected the sprawling cityscape, a place Xavier once found familiar, even comforting. But now, as he trudged through the automatic doors, the cool blast of air conditioning hitting his face, it all felt foreign. His world had changed. The familiar sound of boots tapping on the pristine marble floors, the usual buzz of hunters and staff moving through the building, and the distant ring of telephones seemed like nothing more than a haze of noise.

His reflection caught in the glass of the lobby—he barely recognized the man staring back at him. His once well-kept appearance was gone, replaced by a man disheveled and weary. His clothes, wrinkled and stained from days on the road, clung awkwardly to his body, the fabric of his jacket creased and dusty. His hair, normally brushed neatly, now hung in messy, unkempt strands over his forehead, and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights and relentless mental strain.

He moved like a ghost through the lobby, ignoring the passing glances from the other hunters and staff who clearly noticed his haggard appearance. They didn’t stop him, though. They knew who he was—Xavier, one of the best hunters in the Hunters Association. An integral part of UNICORNS. He had earned his place here, had earned his own office on the upper floors. But despite his reputation, today he felt like a shell of the man he used to be.

His boots made a heavy thud with each step as he headed directly for the elevator. The metallic doors slid open with a soft chime, and he stepped inside, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him as the doors shut, sealing him away from the noise of the lobby. The elevator began its slow ascent, the soft hum of the machinery doing little to quiet his thoughts. His hand slipped into his jacket pocket, his fingers curling around the small, inconspicuous sim card. It was a simple object, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to him, it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

This is it, he thought. This is what might finally give me the answers I need. The answers I’m terrified to find.

The memory of the last few weeks gnawed at him. Even having escaped the N109 Zone the memories had been a blur of desperation, exhaustion, and haunting questions. Where are you? What happened to you? And why had Skye tried to kill him? The silence, the emptiness he felt without you, was unbearable. But what gnawed at him more than anything was the creeping dread in the back of his mind—the fear that he was already too late.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached his floor, snapping him from his thoughts. The doors slid open, revealing the long, pristine hallway of the upper offices. Xavier wasted no time, his legs moving mechanically as he headed straight for his office. The lights overhead flickered ever so slightly, casting long, sharp shadows across the floor as he walked, his pace quickening with every step.

But before he could reach the safety of his office, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Xavier?”

He froze mid-step, his body tensing involuntarily. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He could already picture her—bright-eyed, curious, and always full of questions.

Sure enough, when he turned, there she was—Tara. Her short brown hair, usually neatly styled, bounced slightly as she hurried toward him, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and concern. She was one of the few coworkers who always made a point of checking in on him, though at times, her bubbly personality felt overwhelming. Today was no exception.

“Xavier!” she called again, picking up her pace. “Oh my God, where have you been? We haven’t seen you in forever! You just disappeared, and everyone’s been asking about you, wondering if you were okay. I thought you might have left like—”

He raised a hand, cutting her off before she could finish. His voice was strained, and though he tried to keep it steady, there was an unmistakable edge of exhaustion in it. “Tara, I’m sorry. I really am. But I need to get to my office. I can’t explain anything right now.”

Tara’s face fell slightly, her eyes scanning his face, her brow furrowing as she took in his disheveled appearance. It was clear she wanted to press further, but something in his tone, or maybe the haunted look in his eyes, stopped her. She shifted awkwardly on her feet, biting her lower lip as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, filled with genuine concern. “I mean…you don’t look so good.”

Xavier forced a small, tight-lipped smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just…I just need some time.”

Before she could say anything more, he nodded to her and brushed past, his heart racing as he made his way down the hall. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when he was this close.

Finally, he reached the door to his office, his sanctuary. His hand trembled slightly as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The familiar scent of ink and printed paper greeted him, a scent that used to bring comfort but now felt cold, distant. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him off from the world outside.

For a moment, he just stood there, leaning back against the door, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. The weight of the last few weeks, of everything he’d been through, came crashing down on him all at once. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as he tried to steady himself. Focus, Xavier. Focus.

His eyes scanned the room—his desk, cluttered with papers and old case files, the soft leather chair in the corner, and the wide windows that let in far too much light. He needed darkness, quiet, space to think. Without hesitation, he moved toward the windows and drew the blinds shut, plunging the room into a muted, shadowy haze. The soft hum of the city outside was muffled now, replaced by the stillness of the office. He flicked off the overhead lights, leaving only the dim glow of his computer screen.

It was just him and the SIM card now.

He dropped into the chair behind his desk, his body sinking into the worn leather as he pulled the small chip from his pocket. It sat there on the desk in front of him, almost mocking him with its simplicity. How could something so small hold the answers to everything? How could it carry the weight of his hope and fear all at once?

His fingers trembled slightly as he picked it up, turning it over in his hand, his thumb brushing against the smooth surface. This is it, he reminded himself. This is how I find out what happened to her.

Xavier inserted the sim card into the slot on his computer, the holographic screen flickering to life above his head as the files began to load. His heart pounded in his chest, each second feeling like an eternity as he waited for the data to appear.

The room seemed to shrink around him, the air growing heavy as his eyes locked onto the screen. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the edge of the desk.

Please. Please let this tell me something. Let it lead me to her.

The files loaded slowly, the progress bar inching forward at an agonizingly slow pace. Each second felt like an eternity, the air in the room growing heavier as Xavier leaned closer to the screen, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers drummed impatiently against the edge of the desk, a nervous rhythm that barely kept his panic at bay. This has to work. This has to show me something—anything.

But when the files finally opened, the first thing he noticed was the dull red warning message flashing on the screen: FILE CORRUPTED.

Xavier froze.

He blinked, staring at the message as though it might change if he looked at it long enough. Then, with a shaky breath, he clicked on the first file, hoping against hope that the system had made a mistake. But the message was clear: Corrupted. Unreadable.

His stomach twisted as a wave of cold dread washed over him. No… No, this can’t be right. Not now. Not after everything.

He clicked on another file. Corrupted.

Then another. Corrupted.

And another. Corrupted.

His fingers moved faster, more frantically now, clicking through the list, trying to find anything that wasn’t destroyed. But the same message greeted him every time. The red text burned into his eyes, taunting him with every click. He felt like the ground was being pulled out from under him, the desperation clawing at his chest, making it harder to breathe.

How? His mind raced, scrambling for an explanation. How could this have happened?

His thoughts spiraled. Was the sim card programmed to destroy its contents once removed? The possibility made his blood run cold. He had been so careful, so sure that this card would give him the answers he needed. And now it was slipping through his fingers.

Xavier's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles white as he pounded the desk in frustration. "No..." His voice was a harsh whisper, barely able to contain the anger bubbling up inside him. His vision blurred for a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on him in a wave of helplessness.

This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when I’m so close.

He could feel his pulse racing, his heart pounding in his chest, faster and faster as the panic settled deeper into his bones. His mouth was dry, and his breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as he tried to hold himself together. The room felt smaller, darker, like the walls were closing in around him. The light from the computer screen flickered against his face, casting shadows under his eyes, deepening the lines of exhaustion and frustration etched into his skin.

I can’t lose this. I can’t lose her.

The thoughts came unbidden, swirling in his mind like a storm. He had been so sure this card would lead him to you—that it would show him where you were, what had happened. He had imagined this moment so many times, but now, all that hope was unraveling, torn apart by a series of corrupted files. And it felt like his last chance was slipping away right in front of him.

No. No, I won’t let this happen.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, clicking open every file he could find, his breath catching in his throat each time the same corrupted message popped up. With each failed attempt, the panic inside him grew, his heart hammering wildly as frustration gave way to desperation.

His mind raced, grasping for a solution. There had to be something he could do—something to fix this. He wasn’t about to give up, not now, not when you were still out there, waiting for him to find you. His eyes darted to the screen, scanning for anything that could help, his mind reeling, searching for an answer through the haze of fear clouding his thoughts.

And then, a flicker of hope.

He remembered the program. A faint memory, tucked away in the back of his mind—a file recovery tool buried somewhere deep within his system. It wasn’t something he used often, but it was there. His heart skipped a beat, the sliver of hope cutting through the rising panic. Yes. That’s it.

Without hesitating, he pulled up the program, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed in the command to search for the corrupted files. The familiar blue loading screen appeared, and for a moment, Xavier felt the breath he had been holding slowly release. But it wasn’t over yet. He still had to wait. The program would take time to scan the files, to see if it could recover anything usable.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and each tick of the clock felt like another weight pressing down on his chest. He sat back in his chair, staring at the spinning loading icon on the screen, willing it to move faster, to show him something—anything that could give him the answers he so desperately needed.

His leg bounced under the desk, a nervous habit he hadn’t been able to shake for days now. The anxiety clawed at him, making it impossible to sit still. His mind was racing again, fear and hope warring inside him, a toxic mix that made his stomach churn.

What if this didn’t work? What if the files were too damaged to recover? What if—what if he never found out what happened to you?

Stop it. Don’t think like that. He gritted his teeth, trying to shove the doubts out of his mind. He couldn’t afford to lose hope now. He had come too far, and he couldn’t let himself break. Not yet.

The program beeped softly, breaking the silence of the room. Xavier leaned forward, his heart thudding against his ribs as the first of the recovered files appeared on the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, his pulse racing in anticipation.

Please...let this work.

He clicked on the file, holding his breath as it opened, the screen flickering before finally stabilizing. His eyes scanned the first few lines of data, and for the first time in hours, a glimmer of hope sparked in his chest.

There it was. Not everything—far from it—but there was something. Something he could use.

His breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto the details flashing across the screen. The tension in his body didn’t ease, but the panic that had threatened to overtake him was starting to ebb, replaced by a grim determination.

The first recovered file blinked to life on Xavier’s screen, and for a moment, his heart slowed its frantic pace. This is it, he thought, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the video as the grainy footage loaded. The room was cloaked in shadow, his breath the only sound breaking the silence. His hands hovered over the keyboard, fingers still trembling slightly, half out of exhaustion and half from anticipation.

But as the video began to play, the tension in his body didn’t ease—it only deepened.

The screen flickered with the image of a familiar dimly lit, grimy basement. The walls were old, stained with mold and years of neglect. The camera was positioned at an angle, casting shadows that made the space look even more claustrophobic. But that wasn’t what made Xavier’s stomach twist. It wasn’t you in the video. His breath caught in his throat as the scene unfolded, confusion clouding his mind.

A girl—blonde, young, and panicked—was being dragged into the room by a shoddy-looking man. Her limbs flailed wildly, her voice sharp with terror and rage.

"Fuck you, Reese! Let go!" she screamed, her voice raw, the words tearing through the oppressive silence of the basement.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, his pulse quickening as he watched the man—Reese, apparently—roughly shove her onto a dingy, stained bed in the corner. The blonde girl gasped as she hit the mattress, her breaths coming in panicked bursts, her chest heaving. Her face contorted in fury and fear as she glared at the man who stood a few feet away, shaking like a leaf, as though he was caught between shame and desperation.

Reese, the man responsible for dragging this girl down here, opened his mouth but struggled to speak. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice cracking with guilt and fear. His hands trembled as he backed away from the bed, eyes wide, like he didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation either.

Xavier’s mind raced, his thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing. He had heard the name Reese before. It had come up when he questioned the shoe clerks in the N109 Zone. He knew that you had been with Reese at some point—that much was clear. But this...this wasn’t you.

Who the hell was this girl? Why was she in the same basement?

Xavier clicked on the fast-forward button, his hand shaky as he tried to piece together what he was watching. The blonde girl, still hyperventilating, curled into herself on the bed, her hands gripping the fabric of her clothes as if she could disappear into the mattress. The fear on her face was palpable, and Xavier felt a sickening knot form in his stomach as he imagined what was going through her mind in those moments.

What's happening? His mind spun with questions, but there were no answers—not yet. He fast-forwarded again, his anxiety growing with each passing second. Days seemed to pass, the lighting in the basement changing subtly as time wore on. The girl’s resistance dulled, her movements slower, her body slumping as though she had lost the will to fight back.

And then they came back.

Xavier's breath hitched as Reese appeared once more, but this time he wasn’t alone. His heart dropped as he recognized the second figure—her. The cold, sharp-eyed woman with dark hair tied into a strict bun, dressed in business casual attire. Xavier had seen her before. He remembered her face clearly, down in that same basement when he had been searching for you, when she had tricked him and escaped before answering more of his questions. She was a predator in a sleek package, her eyes devoid of warmth or sympathy.

A traitor to her own gender.

The blonde girl jolted when she saw them, her fear reigniting, her voice cracking as she screamed. “No! Please! Leave me alone!” She scrambled to the head of the bed, pressing herself into the wall as if she could sink through it and escape.

The dark-haired woman didn’t flinch. Her voice was smooth, cold, clinical. “We’ll see if she’s a match, Reese. If she’s not…” She trailed off, inspecting her nails as though the girl’s fate was of no consequence to her. “…you can give her to Damien for...y’know.”

Xavier’s blood ran cold at her words. Damien? The name made his stomach churn with anger and disgust. His grip tightened on the edge of the desk, his knuckles white as he leaned in closer to the screen, his mind now spinning with dread. This was more than just a kidnapping—more than just a rescue mission. There was something deeper, something more sinister lurking beneath the surface of all this.

Reese mumbled something under his breath, barely audible over the girl’s terrified sobs. His hands shook as he backed away from the bed again, leaving the girl in the cold, uncaring grip of the woman with the dark hair. She stepped forward, cold and methodical, holding out a syringe as though it was just another day at the office.

The blonde girl screamed as they took a blood sample, the needle piercing her skin. Her eyes were wide, wild, filled with the horror of not understanding what was happening to her but knowing that it was something dark, something she couldn’t escape. Xavier’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding as he watched the scene unfold. The helplessness in the girl’s eyes echoed the same helplessness he felt now—watching, unable to intervene, unable to stop what was happening.

The video blurred again as Xavier fast-forwarded, skipping through more days, more moments of isolation and fear. The blonde girl’s spirit, once fiery and defiant, began to erode. By the time the dark-haired woman returned with Reese days later, her demeanor had changed entirely. She wasn’t fighting anymore. Instead, she lay curled on the bed, tears streaming down her face, silent sobs shaking her body.

The cold woman sighed, almost bored. “You’re useless to me. But hey, you’re a woman,” she said, her voice dripping with casual cruelty. “Maybe you can seduce Damien for your freedom.” The words hung in the air like poison, and the blonde girl let out a wretched scream, her body convulsing with panic as Reese grabbed her again, dragging her off the bed and toward the stairs.

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. What the hell is this? His mind was racing, the implications of what he was seeing burning through him like wildfire. This wasn’t just about you. This wasn’t just a random guy that you had gone with. This was part of something bigger, something darker than he had ever imagined.

And yet, even as the video ended—cutting off abruptly as Reese pulled the screaming girl up the stairs—one thought dominated his mind.

Where were you?

His hands shook as he closed the corrupted file, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. His mind spun with questions, but no answers came. Who was this girl? Was she still alive? Had Reese given her to Damien like they suggested? A dark chill crawled up Xavier’s spine. His thoughts twisted and darkened as he remembered the basement when he had first been there—when he had been searching for you.

Reese had been dead when I searched that basement.

A sudden, horrifying thought pierced through him like a dagger.

Did Reese let this 'Damien' hurt you?

His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything went still. The room, the air, the soft hum of the computer—it all faded into the background. A single thought rang in his mind, louder than anything else. Was Damien involved with what happened to you?

Xavier swallowed hard, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as the tension mounted inside him. His eyes darted back to the screen, scanning the list of recovered files with a sense of rising urgency. He had to find your video. He had to know what happened to you. His breath came quicker, more shallow as he clicked on the next file, praying that this time—this time—it would show him the truth.

Xavier’s hands moved frantically across the keyboard, clicking through file after file. Each video that played on the screen sent another wave of nausea crashing through him. Each one showed a different girl—each of them dragged into that same dingy basement by Reese. Their screams echoed in his ears, the fear in their eyes burning into his memory, but none of them were you.

His stomach churned violently as the helplessness clawed at his insides. He could barely keep his breathing steady, each breath shallow and strained. The flickering images on the screen felt like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. He was so close, yet so far. With every corrupted file, every unfamiliar face, the weight of dread settled deeper into his bones. Where are you? His mind screamed, hands gripping the edges of his desk until his knuckles turned white.

He clicked on another file. Another girl. Not you.

His jaw clenched as he forced himself to click through the next video. Still not you.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart thudding in his chest like a war drum, each beat harder than the last. The urge to smash everything on his desk was almost unbearable, but he kept moving, his desperation growing with every passing second. Each wrong file felt like a stab to his gut. The girls all looked terrified—some bruised, some screaming, others had already given up—but it wasn’t you. His vision blurred for a moment, frustration and fear clouding his thoughts.

Then, he clicked the last file.

For a split second, he hesitated. His heart was in his throat, the weight of all his hopes and fears balancing on this one moment. Please. Please be her. The screen flickered, and then—your features came into view.

Xavier exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

It’s you.

The relief was so intense it nearly knocked the wind out of him. He felt his entire body sag forward, his muscles trembling as he sat frozen in his chair, staring at the screen. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like forever, but there you were, in the same filthy basement he’d seen in the other videos. But something was wrong. So very, very wrong.

You looked… worse for wear. Even through the grainy footage, it was clear you hadn’t been eating well—your face was more gaunt than he remembered, your cheeks hollow, and your body seemed frail, weaker than it ever should have been. Your hair, once well-kept, now hung in matted strands, clinging to your face as though it hadn’t been washed in days. Your eyes wide with shock. His heart broke at the sight, a heaviness settling into his chest that made it hard to breathe.

He could barely hold it together as he watched you struggle. There you were, the person he’d been so desperate to find, trapped in that godforsaken basement. His eyes stung, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He wanted to be there, to protect you, but he was stuck watching, helpless on the other side of a screen.

The camera trembled slightly as two figures came into view—Reese, and another man Xavier didn’t recognize. The stranger was larger, more menacing, and as they manhandled you, dragging you toward the wall, Xavier felt the white-hot surge of anger flare through him.

He watched as the man pushed you roughly against the cold stone wall, your body slumping on impact. You struggled, arms flailing as you tried to fight back, your voice strained and frantic. The unfamiliar man approached you, his face twisted with a sickening grin, and before Xavier could even process it, the man’s hands were all over you, feeling you up.

“Get off her!” Xavier hissed under his breath, his fingers tightening so hard around the arms of his chair that he thought the metal might snap. His body tensed, every muscle coiled with the instinct to protect you, to tear the man away from you. But he was powerless—stuck watching, his heart pounding in his ears, every second feeling like a lifetime.

Your voice cut through the chaos. “I'm bleeding! I’m on my period!” you screamed, desperation thick in your voice.

Xavier froze, eyes wide as the stranger’s hands recoiled. The man grimaced, backing off like a coward, muttering something inaudible as he stepped away from you. Xavier felt a surge of relief—so intense that he almost thought it was over. But then his stomach turned, realizing just how close you had come to something worse.

The relief didn’t last long. He watched, his breath shallow, as he dragged you over to a dingy showerhead in the corner of the room. The rusted metal clung to the grimy tile, the smell of mildew practically radiating through the screen. You were shoved under the cold spray, and when the icy water hit your body, you didn’t scream. You didn’t cry out. You trembled, your whole frame shaking violently as the freezing water soaked through your clothes, your hair plastering to your skull.

Xavier’s chest tightened painfully. You were silent, but your body was wracked with shivers, your shoulders shaking as the water poured down over you. Why aren’t you fighting? he thought, his heart breaking with every second that passed. Why aren’t you screaming?

He could see it, the exhaustion that had settled into you, the hopelessness. The strength you usually had was slipping away, replaced by the toll of captivity and cruelty. His fists clenched, the rage boiling under his skin as he watched the stranger turn off the water and leave you there—helpless, wet, and shivering on the cold basement floor.

Xavier’s breath hitched, his throat closing up as he watched you desperately try to catch your breath, your body trembling uncontrollably. Then, slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, your head lolling forward as your body went limp. You collapsed—passed out from sheer exhaustion, from the cold, from everything they had done to you.

A single tear slid down Xavier’s cheek, though he didn’t realize it was there at first. The wet warmth caught him by surprise, and he wiped it away quickly, frustration twisting inside him like a knife. He couldn’t stop watching—he couldn’t turn away. Even though every second felt like it was cutting deeper into him, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen. He needed to know what had happened. He needed to know everything.

The screen flickered slightly as the footage continued. Reese appeared again, but this time he was alone. His hands were full—clothes and pads, probably for you. Xavier’s teeth ground together, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he watched Reese step cautiously toward the bed. Your body still lay there, unconscious, cold, vulnerable.

Reese didn’t move for a long moment, just standing there, staring at your unmoving form. He seemed torn—his face twisted with guilt, fear, maybe even shame. His eyes flickered to your face, and Xavier’s pulse quickened. The tension in his body coiled tighter, a knot of rage and anxiety constricting his chest.

Then, slowly, Reese stepped closer to you. His hand extended, trembling as he reached toward your face, his fingers hovering just above your cheek. No. Don’t touch her. Xavier’s mind screamed the words, his hands gripping the sides of his chair so hard that his nails dug into the leather, leaving deep grooves. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his muscles straining as though he might actually break through the screen and stop him.

But then Reese hesitated. His hand hovered for a moment longer before he pulled back, taking a deep, shaky breath. Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest, his relief palpable—but it did nothing to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him.

Reese placed the clothes on the bed across from you, his eyes still fixed on your face, but he didn’t touch you. He stepped away, leaving you there, still unconscious, still shivering slightly. Xavier’s breath came out in a ragged sigh, his body trembling with the overwhelming flood of emotions that he could barely keep in check.

But this wasn’t over. He knew it wasn’t over.

Xavier leaned forward, wiping another tear from his cheek as he narrowed his eyes at the screen. He had to keep going. He had to see what happened next. He had to know. He had to find out everything.

Xavier watched as the video played on, his entire body locked in place, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. He could barely breathe as the image flickered and your figure stirred, your body shifting slowly on the cold, hard ground. The way you moved, every inch of your body screaming exhaustion, made his heart sink. You looked like a shell of yourself, like every ounce of strength had been drained from you, leaving only a frail, weakened version of the person he once knew.

He watched as you struggled to sit up, your soaked nightgown clinging to your body like a lead weight, dragging you down. Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself up, your hair soaked, wet strands sticking to your face, your breaths shallow and labored. His fingers tightened on the edges of the desk, his heart aching at the sight of you. Every movement looked painful—every breath an effort.

Come on… please… just get up, he thought, willing you to find the strength to keep moving, to fight back against the hell you were trapped in.

Slowly, you managed to rise to your feet, your knees wobbling slightly as you reached for the clothes Reese had left behind. You dressed in silence, your movements sluggish, like you were on the verge of collapse. The sight of you changing, of slipping into the dry clothes, should have brought Xavier some relief, but it didn’t. If anything, it made his stomach churn with dread. He could see it in your face—the numbness, the exhaustion, the sheer hopelessness that seemed to radiate from your every gesture.

You don’t deserve this. None of this, Xavier thought, his throat tightening as a lump of guilt settled deep in his chest.

Then, something shifted. You glanced up toward the stairs, your expression tense, wary, like you were planning something. For a moment, a flicker of hope sparked in Xavier’s chest as he watched you move toward the steps, your eyes focused on the large hatch at the top. Were you trying to escape? He leaned forward in his seat, his breath held as you reached the hatch leaning against it, your breath ragged

Come on. You can do this. Try and open it baby.

But then, you froze. Your head jerked up, eyes wide, and without warning, you bolted back down the stairs, your feet nearly slipping on the slick floor as you dove under the bed, hiding like a frightened animal. Xavier’s heart stuttered, his breath catching in his throat.

What’s wrong? Why are you hiding?

His pulse pounded in his ears as the camera trembled slightly, picking up the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching the basement. Heavy, deliberate footsteps—multiple sets, moving in sync. His heart sank deeper into his stomach, his gut twisting with dread as three figures came into view: Reese, the cold-eyed woman with dark hair—the same woman who had haunted his thoughts since that first encounter—and another man, unfamiliar, likely one of their henchmen.

The air felt suffocating as the henchman crouched down beside the bed, his meaty hand reaching under and grabbing you roughly by the arm. Xavier’s stomach lurched as he watched you struggle, but it was no use. The man yanked you out from under the bed, your body hitting the floor with a dull thud as he dragged you to your feet.

“No, no, no…” Xavier whispered under his breath, his chest tightening as he watched helplessly from behind the screen. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair, his knuckles white with tension. His skin crawled with anxiety, his mind screaming for you to fight, to resist, to do anything to stop this from happening.

The woman stepped forward, her face a mask of cold indifference as she looked down at you, her eyes sharp and calculating. Dialogue is exchanged that he cant quite hear but he manages to make out a few sentences.

“We don’t know for sure if you’re a match yet,” the woman said, almost thoughtfully. “But you're a woman, so that's already one criteria met. And it’s just a matter of time before we find out the second.”

Xavier’s jaw clenched. A match? For what? What kind of sick, twisted operation was this? His mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of the nightmare unfolding in front of him. She had mentioned you were a match back in the basement. Was this what she was referring to? He felt the bile rise in his throat as the woman produced a syringe from her coat pocket, her movements mechanical, practiced. She didn’t care about you. You were nothing but a commodity to her—just another body, another possible match.

He leaned closer to the screen, his breath coming faster, harder. “No! Don’t give in!” he screamed in his mind, wishing with every fiber of his being that you could hear him. Fight! Stab her with it!

But you didn’t.

You just…obeyed.

Your arm trembled as you extended it toward the woman, too weak, too exhausted to fight back. Your eyes were dull, drained of the fire he knew you once had. Xavier felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest as he watched you give in, letting them take the blood sample without resistance. He wanted to scream, to throw something, to punch through the screen. This isn’t you. You were always so strong. So fierce. What did they do to you?

But he knew the truth. He could see it in your body language, in the slump of your shoulders. You had been beaten down, worn away by days of captivity. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not from here. His helplessness gnawed at him, threatening to overwhelm him.

After taking the sample, the woman glanced at the henchman and hands it to him. He leaves and the woman stayed behind, her eyes never leaving you. “Now we wait,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you’re lucky, you won’t be a match. But if you are… well, we’ll be in touch.”

She exchanges a few words with Reese before making her way up the stairs, heels clacking as she walks back up.

But Reese didn’t follow. He lingered behind, his eyes avoiding yours. And then you snapped. You start yelling about how you had trusted him.

"I trusted you!" you shouted, your voice growing louder, the raw emotion burning through your exhaustion. "I told you everything—I told you about my escape, I thought you were trying to help me!"

Your words were heavy with betrayal, each syllable cutting through the silence like a knife. Xavier’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. He remembered your voice on the phone—the trust in your words when you mentioned Reese. You had believed in him. You had gone with him because you thought he would protect you.

I should have told you not to go. I should have warned you. Guilt flooded through Xavier, choking him. I thought you’d be okay. I thought I’d find you in time.

Reese flinched under your words, his hands shaking at his sides. He couldn’t even meet your eyes as you continued to hurl your accusations at him. He looked every bit the coward, standing there, unable to face the truth of what he’d done to you. He babbles some excuses about how he had to do what he did. But you weren't having it. How he thought you would be dumped like the others. How he didn't know about the organ trafficking.

Xavier scoffed. A coward and a liar this guy was.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seemingly all he can mutter after all that.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone in the cold, empty room.

Xavier’s chest heaved with labored breaths as he watched you slide down the wall, your body shaking with silent sobs. His heart ached, the guilt and anger mixing into a storm of emotions that he couldn’t contain. He wanted to reach through the screen, to hold you, to tell you he was coming.

I’m so sorry. I’ll make this right. I swear.

The video continued, the next few days slipping by in a blur of monotony. Reese came and went, bringing you food, but he said nothing. He was silent, avoiding your gaze, avoiding confrontation. And you—you barely moved. You spent most of your time sleeping, your body too exhausted, too worn down to fight anymore. Xavier’s stomach churned as he realized how deeply this place had broken you.

But then… something changed.

His eyes widened as a familiar figure appeared on the screen. The same man who had groped you when you had first arrived in the basement, his expression dark, predatory. Xavier’s blood ran cold as the man descended the stairs, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form.

No…no…not again.

You stirred, your body tensing the moment you saw him. The tension in the air was palpable. Xavier could feel it in his bones, the dread creeping up his spine as the man stalked toward you. His lips moved, saying something to you, but the audio was too muffled to make out the words. Whatever he said, it made your body stiffen with fear as he grabbed your arm.

Then, without warning, the man lunged forward, grabbing you tighter and slamming you into the mattress.

Xavier’s vision blurred with red. His heart pounded in his ears as rage surged through him like a wildfire. He gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white, his teeth grinding together as he watched you fight like hell. You kicked, you scratched, you screamed—but it wasn’t enough. The man was too strong. He pinned you down, his hands tearing at your clothes, ripping your sweatpants off with vicious intent.

“No...” Xavier hissed, slamming his fist into the desk. He couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t watch you be violated like this. His eyes squeezed shut, but he couldn’t stop himself from listening, every sound making his blood boil, the anger roaring in his mind like an unstoppable storm.

He could hear the man struggling—his heavy breathing, the sound of fabric tearing, your muffled cries. Every second felt like an eternity. Xavier’s entire body trembled with fury, his mind screaming at him to do something, but he was powerless.

And then he heard it.

Your voice, soft, almost a whisper. He couldn’t make out what you said, but the words were enough to anger the man on top of you He seems like he's about to hit you, and then—

"Is that anyway to talk to a lady?"

The man was frozen, is facing twisting in shock before he was suddenly flung off of you, his body slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch. His screams filled the air, a sound so satisfying that it almost drowned out the confusion that followed.

Xavier’s eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat. What the hell just happened?

And then he saw him.

A tall man, dressed in dark clothes, his face somewhat shadowed by the dim lighting of the basement. His presence was commanding, intimidating—and immediately recognizable. The white grayish hair, terrifying demeanor, crimson blood colored eye.

Skye.

Xavier’s heart lurched. What the hell was he doing there?

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat as the figure of Skye moved toward you, his tall, dark silhouette looming in the dim light of the basement. His walk was calm, casual, as though he hadn’t just flung a man across the room like a ragdoll. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he stopped in front of you, his lips twitching upward in a half-smile.

But what shook Xavier to his core wasn’t just Skye’s appearance. It was your reaction.

You scrambled to pull your clothes back on, the shock evident on your face, but there was something else in your expression that made Xavier’s stomach twist. You didn’t look confused. You didn’t look like you had just been saved by a stranger. There was familiarity there—recognition. And then you spoke, your voice shaky but not surprised.

“What took you so long?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Xavier’s heart skipped a beat. What?

Skye chuckled softly, his voice low and almost teasing. “Is this the thanks I get, kitten?” He glanced back at the man crumpled against the wall, a smug grin playing on his lips.

"I save you, and all you’ve got is attitude?" Skye raises an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips widening as if he’s enjoying this far too much. “You’re getting harder to please.”

Xavier’s mind reeled, his thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing, what he was hearing. You knew him? The question burned in his chest, but before he could fully process it, another sound drew his attention.

There was a loud thud as Reese came tumbling down the stairs, his body rolling helplessly until he landed face-first on the cold stone floor. Behind him, two figures with bird-like masks giggled, nudging each other proudly.

"We got him, boss," one of them chirped, his voice muffled behind the mask. "Tried to run, but he fell flat on his face." He punctuates his words with another casual kick to Reese's side. "Much like he did just now."

Reese groaned, struggling to push himself up, but when he finally lifted his head, his eyes went wide with terror. He looked past the masked figures, past you, and his gaze landed on Skye. His entire body trembled, and Xavier could see the exact moment the fear set in, the moment Reese understood who he was facing.

“Sylus…” Reese breathed, his voice trembling as he tried to scoot backward, his limbs shaking. “You…you ran away from Sylus?”

The name sent a bolt of electricity through Xavier’s body, freezing him in place. His entire world seemed to tilt on its axis, the ground falling away beneath him. Sylus. The name echoed in his mind, a name he had heard whispered in fear, a name spoken with the kind of reverence reserved for monsters and myths. The ruler of the N109 Zone. The feared leader of Onychinus.

And now, that man—the man who had offered him a ride, the same man who had tried to kill him and stage it as a car crash—was standing right there, in the same room as you. Sylus.

The reality of it hit him like a punch to the gut. This is Sylus?

His breath quickened, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts at once. Sylus—he’s been the one all along. The man with the charm, the mystery. The one who played me for a fool and tried to end my life. He remembered their conversation in the car, the way Sylus had studied him, like he was nothing more than a pawn in some twisted game. And now, here he was, standing over you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

The audio cuts out briefly, some words being exchanged between you and Sylus before it comes back in clearly. A black crow had materialized on his shoulder, and Reese seemed confused that the crows name was Mephisto. Sylus snapped at him, seemingly annoyed he was attempting to talk to you.

Sylus’s dark eyes flicked back toward you, his expression softening in a way that made Xavier’s stomach churn. He watched as Sylus crouched down in front of you, his tall frame looming over you but his movements gentle, controlled. You seemed to be spiraling. There was something possessive in the way he moved, the way he reached out to you.

“Shh, kitten,” Sylus murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “It’s alright. I found you.”

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest, his throat tight. Kitten? The term dripped with intimacy, with ownership. He watched in horror as you didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. You just stared at Sylus, your eyes wide with a mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else Xavier couldn’t quite place. Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t try to push him away. You didn’t run. You just trembled there, your body torn between exhaustion and emotion.

Sylus leaned in closer, his dark gaze locking onto yours. “You’re mine again,” he whispered, his voice a possessive growl that made the hairs on Xavier’s neck stand on end. “Don’t cry. Not now. Not in front of them.”

Xavier’s breath hitched, his body trembling with a combination of fear and fury. Yours? The word echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of dread that came with it. Sylus just called you his. And you…you weren’t fighting it. You weren’t pulling away. Xavier’s mind spun with confusion, with disbelief. He could barely make sense of what was happening.

Xavier’s hands gripped the sides of his chair, his knuckles turning white with the strain. No…no, this can’t be happening. The tenderness in Sylus’s voice, the way he looked at you like you were the center of his universe—it made Xavier’s stomach twist with anger. You were his. How dare this man—this monster—claim you?

But then, something else drew his attention.

A blood-curdling scream filled the basement, shattering the stillness. Xavier’s eyes snapped to the figures on the other side of the room. Reese and the henchman were writhing in agony, Reese's body contorted with pain as he was slammed into the wall, their screams echoing through the small, claustrophobic space. But Sylus… Sylus didn’t even look at them. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move. His attention stayed fixed on you, his hand gently wiping the tears from your cheeks as though nothing else in the world mattered.

“Don’t look at them,” Sylus murmured softly, his voice soothing yet firm. His fingers brushed over your face, gently cradling your chin and turning your gaze back to him. “Look at me.”

Xavier felt like he couldn’t breathe, his heart racing as his mind struggled to process everything. Sylus was ignoring the carnage behind him, the screams of the men he was torturing, and was focused entirely on you. It was as if you were the only thing that mattered to him, as if the world outside of you didn’t exist.

His eyes stayed locked on the screen, unable to look away as Sylus reached out, his hand moving gently to your face. “Look at me,” he whispered, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy. “Your tears, your pain, your misery…it all belongs to me.”

"I’m the only one, who gets to see you cry."

Xavier’s pulse pounded in his ears, his skin crawling as he watched Sylus’s possessive, gentle touch. The man was a predator, but the way he handled you, the way he spoke to you, was so calm, so assured, like you were his most valuable possession. And what frightened Xavier the most was that you weren’t fighting him. You were letting him soothe you. You were letting him touch you.

Before Xavier could even begin to process the horror of what he was seeing, another voice broke through the tension.

“Please, make him stop! Ask him to stop!”

Xavier’s gaze snapped to Reese, his blood boiling. The coward was begging for his life, his body curled up against the wall, his eyes wide with terror. But it was your face that made Xavier’s heart ache. Your expression had hardened, your fear melting away into cold resolve. You stared at Reese, your lips curling into a sneer. The audio cuts out briefly before it comes back again.

“Go to hell, Reese,” you spat, your voice sharp and final.

A sickening crack followed, and before Xavier even had time to register what was happening, Sylus calmly stood up. He reached into his coat, pulling out a sleek black pistol. With smooth, practiced movements, he aimed the weapon at Reese without even blinking.

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat, his entire body tensing.

BANG.

Reese’s head snapped back as the bullet tore through his skull, his brain matter splattering against the wall in a gruesome display. His body slumped to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling around him in a thick, dark puddle.

Sylus lowered the pistol, his expression calm, almost serene, as though he had merely swatted a fly. He turned back to you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked at your shocked face. His smile—so tender, so full of affection—made Xavier’s stomach churn with revulsion.

“I sent him to hell, just like you said, sweetie,"

Xavier’s mind raced, his heart hammering in his chest as he sat frozen, unable to pull his eyes from the screen. What the hell am I watching? His hands gripped the armrests of his chair so tightly that his fingers ached, but the pain barely registered. His world was narrowing down to this single moment, the horrifying spectacle unfolding in front of him.

His eyes darted to Sylus, who now stood with calm, calculated precision, his face devoid of any emotion as he turned his gaze to the henchman still writhing on the ground. The man’s body was twisted in agony, his limbs jerking uncontrollably as he gasped for breath, his face contorted with raw terror. He’s going to die. Sylus is going to kill him, too.

Xavier’s pulse quickened, a sick feeling swirling in his gut as he watched the tendrils of the familiar ominous red mist around Sylus begin to thicken, swirling with a low, almost inhuman hum that reverberated through the air. The mist was like a living entity, moving with a purpose, snaking toward the henchman with eerie fluidity, wrapping itself around him like a serpent tightening its hold.

The man’s breath hitched, his chest heaving with frantic, desperate gasps, but it was no use. The mist coiled tighter, its grip unyielding as it crushed the air from his lungs. His mouth opened wide, as if to scream, but no sound escaped. His eyes bulged with fear, veins popping in his neck as the mist squeezed relentlessly, cutting off any hope of escape.

Xavier’s throat tightened, his own breath becoming shallow as he watched the man’s body convulse violently, limbs thrashing against the floor in a sickening dance of death. The panic in the man’s eyes was unmistakable, the sheer terror that gripped him as he realized his life was slipping away. The mist was alive, feeding off his fear, tightening like a noose around his entire body.

Sylus stood over him, his hand raised slightly as if controlling the mist with nothing more than a thought. His expression remained cold, detached, but there was something else there—a faint flicker of satisfaction in his dark eyes. He was enjoying this.

Xavier’s stomach churned, the bile rising in his throat as Sylus’s power became terrifyingly real before his eyes. This wasn’t just some mob boss. This was a monster.

The man’s body twitched one final time, his limbs spasming as the mist constricted further, wrapping around his torso like a vice. His ribs began to bend, then snap, the bones splintering under the intense pressure. A gurgling sound escaped the man’s throat as his body gave way, his chest caving in, bones cracking like brittle twigs underfoot.

Holy shit... Xavier could barely comprehend what he was seeing. The sound of bone snapping echoed through the room, filling his mind with a sickening chorus of destruction. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. His eyes were glued to the horror as Sylus squeezed his hand into a fist, the motion simple, deliberate��final.

With a sickening, wet crack, the man’s entire body exploded outward. His ribcage folded under the immense force, collapsing in on itself like a house of cards, his spine snapping in two as the red mist continued to crush him.

The impact sent a sickening splatter of blood and tissue across the tiles, a dark, violent stain painting the cold grey walls in streaks of red. His bones crunched under the force, his skull cracking against the hard surface as his remains dripped to the floor in a grotesque heap. The sound echoed in the stillness, the dripping blood the only sign of life left in the room.

The mist slowly receded, dissolving into the air like it had never been there at all.

Xavier’s chest heaved, his breath shallow, ragged, as he sat in stunned silence. His mind couldn’t process what he had just witnessed. The sheer brutality of it, the casual way in which Sylus had destroyed a man’s life with nothing more than a thought—it was too much. Too surreal.

Sylus didn’t even flinch. He turned back toward you, his face softening once more, his cold detachment melting away as he reached out to touch your shoulder, as though nothing horrific had just occurred. As though the world hadn’t just shattered in violence around him.

Xavier swallowed hard, his throat dry, his body shaking with a mix of adrenaline and shock. What the hell is happening here? His mind was spinning, trying to reconcile the image of Sylus—this monster in human skin—with the man who was now gazing at you with such tenderness.

Sylus gently tilted your chin upward, his fingers brushing your skin with a strange sort of intimacy. "Sorry," Sylus says smoothly, his tone as casual as if he had just finished a routine task. His gaze slides back to you, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "I didn't want them breathing the same air as you any longer."

Xavier’s heart clenched as he saw the tears in your eyes, the way your body trembled. You looked utterly broken, shaken by the violence, but you didn’t pull away from Sylus. You didn’t fight. You let him touch you. You let him soothe you. And that—that was what terrified Xavier the most.

But you didn't really have a choice but to let him did you? Who would refuse a guy that just made a man explode his guts all over the walls?

Xavier sat there, his mind numb and his body frozen in place. The images on the screen had burned themselves into his brain—Sylus’s cold efficiency, the detached way he had slaughtered these men without a second thought, and the possessive way he touched your trembling body. It was like none of it mattered to him. He had done what he came for, and nothing more.

One of the masked men cheered as if he had just witnessed a cool party trick, his voice muffled and gleeful behind the bird-shaped mask. Xavier's stomach turned as he watched Sylus remain calm, entirely unfazed by the grotesque carnage he had just caused. Sylus didn’t even spare the scene another glance. His attention was entirely on you, your trembling body settling in his arms as he picked you up, your form curling inward slightly as if to shield yourself from the reality of what had just happened.

Xavier’s heart ached as he watched you struggle weakly, a part of you resisting, but ultimately…relenting. Giving up. The way you allowed yourself to be held by him—the man responsible for everything—sent a deep wave of anger and helplessness through Xavier’s veins. He wanted to scream at the screen, to break through it and take you back from this monster, but he was powerless.

Sylus paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, looking down at your small, shaking form cradled in his arms, then briefly glanced up at the camera. His crimson eyes glinted, and then—he winked. A cold, confident wink that sent a shiver down Xavier’s spine. It was as if Sylus knew exactly who was watching, as if this entire grotesque performance had been for his benefit. He didn’t care about the bloody mess he had left behind. He had what he came for.

The crow perched on Sylus’s shoulder cawed once, flapping its wings as Sylus calmly ascended the stairs with you in his arms, disappearing into the dim shadows above. Xavier watched in stunned silence, his breath shallow, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He fast-forwarded through the footage, his mind racing, but the camera cut out soon after, leaving only an empty, black screen.

Xavier leaned back in his chair, the tension in his body finally releasing as his head hit the backrest, but the relief never came. His head was spinning, everything suddenly crashing into him all at once. Sylus. The truth hung heavy in the air around him, suffocating. Sylus had been the one behind your disappearance. He was the reason you had abruptly vanished from Xavier’s life. He was the monster pulling the strings.

His heart raced as the pieces fell into place, each one sharper than the last. Sylus had tried to kill him, not for the Hunter's Association’s secrets, but because he had been looking for you. And Sylus knew that. He had known that all along. But then… why had he kept him alive? Why toy with him like this?

“I've realized you're much more useful to me alive than dead." Sylus had said to him. The words now echoed in Xavier’s mind like a sick joke.

Useful? Useful for what?

Xavier sat there in stunned silence, his hands resting uselessly on the desk. The weight of it all settled into him, the anger rising and brimming in his chest until it became almost unbearable. His breathing quickened as rage burned through him. Of course, it had to be Sylus. The feared leader of Onychinus, the untouchable ruler of the N109 Zone. Of course, it had to be him. The man who had made practically everyone tremble with fear—the man who had just casually slaughtered people as if they were nothing—he had taken you.

And he was the one who had tried to take Xavier’s life, too.

Xavier clenched his fists, the tension in his body building to a fever pitch. His mind raced, the realization settling deep in his gut, heavy and sickening. Fuck.

He felt…hopeless. What could he do against Sylus? How could he fight someone like that—a man with an army, with power beyond anything Xavier could even fathom? The weight of it all crushed him. The anger simmered, bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to consume him.

Then, a sound broke the silence. His phone buzzed on the desk, the vibration snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the screen.

An unknown number.

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat, a strange, icy dread settling over him as he picked up the phone. His eyes scanned the message.

"I figure by now you've realized what's really going on. Listen closely. I will not repeat myself. Try any tricks or tell anyone, she dies."

Xavier’s chest tightened, panic creeping into his every nerve. His fingers trembled slightly as he held the phone, the reality of the situation finally crashing down in full. This was Sylus. It had to be.

She dies.

The words hit him like a sledgehammer, sending a jolt of terror straight through his core. Sylus had her. Sylus was watching. He had been watching all along.

Xavier’s heart raced, his mind scrambling for what to do. He needed to respond, but the fear clawed at him, suffocating. His hands shook as he typed out the only thing he could think of, his fingers moving almost instinctively across the screen.

"It's you, isn't it? Sylus."

The message was simple, direct. But as he stared down at the words, his stomach twisted into knots. He knew who Sylus was now, but what was he going to do about it? What could he do?

Xavier’s fingers hovered over the screen as he read the response. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last.

"You're smarter than you look."

The insult was almost expected, but Xavier barely registered it. His mind was too focused on what Sylus had just revealed—on the horrifying reality he was now facing.

His eyes narrowed as he typed out his reply, his fingers moving with more defiance than his trembling heart felt.

"Well, I'm not stupid. Why would you save her just to kill her? You're lying."

His pulse raced as he hit send, the words blurring slightly as he stared at the screen, waiting.

The silence on the other end stretched out, suffocating. Every second felt like an eternity, the tension building in the room like a storm about to break. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Maybe I’m pushing him too far.

Xavier’s throat tightened as his mind scrambled for what he’d do next. Had he made a mistake? Sylus wasn’t just some thug. He was the ruler of the N109 Zone, the man who had tried to kill him. The man who now had you in his clutches.

Then, the phone buzzed again, and Xavier’s stomach dropped.

"Do you want to find out?"

The blood drained from Xavier’s face as he read the message. His body stiffened, a cold, creeping dread settling deep into his bones. The casual threat lingered in the air, icy and terrifying. He could almost hear Sylus’s voice behind the words, dripping with dangerous amusement.

Do you want to find out?

Xavier’s blood ran cold. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of the question sinking into him like a lead weight. What did Sylus mean? The threat was clear, but Xavier felt trapped, stuck between the impossible.

He wouldn’t kill you… not after going through so much trouble to find you. That’s what Xavier wanted to believe, but the sinking feeling in his stomach told him otherwise. Sylus was unpredictable. A man who could kill with a flick of his hand, a man who saw people as tools, as possessions.

What if Sylus wasn’t bluffing?

Xavier’s thoughts raced, his mind a chaotic swirl of panic and rage. He didn’t know what to do, and for the first time in his life, he felt utterly powerless. Sylus had control—over him, over you. Every choice was a trap.

His fingers hovered over the phone, frozen as he stared at the message. Do you want to find out?

No. He didn’t.

Xavier's fingers hovered over the screen as he read Sylus’s latest message before typing once more.

"Okay fine. Enough with the games. What do you want from me?" His chest tightened, each heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

"Good to know we're on the same page."

The casual, almost mocking tone twisted Xavier's gut, but it was the rest of the message that made his blood run cold.

"You're going to tell your captain that you saw and talked to your… partner. That she is fine and just felt trapped with work, so she fled to another country. After that, get rid of the SIM card. I will know if you don't. Don't test me."

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest. The SIM card—the one that had shown him the horrific reality of what had happened to you, the one that contained evidence of something far larger and darker than he’d realized—had to be destroyed. Sylus knew everything. Every move Xavier made, every desperate attempt to unravel the truth, Sylus was watching. Controlling him like a puppet.

His hands trembled as he furiously typed back, the words coming fast, his desperation bleeding into every stroke of the keys.

"I can't. There's an organ trafficking ring going on right under our noses, and they might be stealing women from Linkon as well. I can lie to the captain, but don't you at least care about the people who took her in the first place?"

He hit send, his pulse quickening as the message went through. This was it. His last-ditch effort. If he could just get Sylus to care—if he could find some sliver of humanity in the man, some reason for him to want justice, to see that the people responsible for trafficking you were taken down—maybe, just maybe, he could find a way out of this.

But the silence that followed was suffocating.

Xavier’s heart raced in the quiet seconds that ticked by, every moment dragging out into an unbearable eternity. His breath hitched as he stared at the phone, waiting—hoping—for a response. Come on… care about this. Do something.

Finally, after what felt like an agonizing stretch of time, his phone buzzed.

"I’m taking care of them. Just do what I ask and she lives. Simple, yes?"

Xavier’s stomach churned as he read the words, the cold reality settling over him like a blanket of ice. Of course. Sylus wasn’t concerned about the trafficking. He wasn’t concerned about justice, or the victims, or anything that Xavier cared about. He was focused on one thing—control. He was always ten steps ahead, always moving the pieces on the board to his own advantage.

A wave of frustration, helplessness, and rage swept over Xavier, but what choice did he have? You were still in Sylus’s hands. He could keep pushing, keep trying to fight, but Sylus had made one thing clear—don’t test me.

Xavier's hands hovered over the phone, his mind racing. He felt trapped. Every move felt wrong, but there was no way out, not with you hanging in the balance. His throat tightened as he typed his next message, his heart pounding with the bitter taste of defeat.

"Fine. I'll do what you ask."

He hit send, the words feeling like poison as they left his fingertips.

Xavier's fingers tightened around his phone, his knuckles white as he stared at Sylus’s last message:

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

It was a simple sentence, but it carried the weight of finality that made Xavier's stomach twist. He typed furiously, his heart racing as he asked the one question that had been gnawing at him since this nightmare began.

"If I do this, does that mean you'll let her go?"

He hit send, the cold sweat on his neck making him shiver as he waited for a response. His mind raced, clinging to the faint hope that maybe—maybe—Sylus had a plan that involved letting you go. Maybe there was a way out of this, a way to get you back. Alive.

The phone buzzed in his hand.

"You get knowledge that she's still breathing. Should suffice."

Xavier’s stomach dropped, his body going cold as he read the message. His heart hammered in his chest, rage bubbling up inside him, burning hotter with each passing second. That was it. That was all Sylus was offering—the knowledge that you were alive. Not freedom. Not safety. Just…existence. Sylus had no intention of letting you go. Not now. Not ever.

But why? What was his game? Why keep you? Why was he so obsessed?

Xavier’s mind flashed back to the surveillance footage. To the way Sylus had looked at you. That strange tenderness in his eyes, the possessiveness in his voice when he called you "mine". It hadn’t been cold or detached like the way he dealt with others. It was intimate. Like you were something he cherished, something that belonged to him.

Did this monster…love you?

The thought made Xavier sick to his core. No. Someone like Sylus wasn’t capable of love. He was a killer, a manipulator, a tyrant. People like him didn’t love—they controlled, they possessed. But then… why kidnap you? What was it about you that had caught his attention, his obsession? You couldn’t possibly mean that much to him. Could you?

Xavier’s fists clenched in anger. The thought of Sylus loving you—touching you—made his blood boil. The idea of you, his love, being held by that monster sent a dark wave of rage crashing over him. He couldn't stop the thought from festering in his mind, couldn't shake the image of Sylus holding you close, controlling you with that calm, possessive demeanor.

"Don't think you'll have her for long. I'll find her. And you. You won't like it when I do."

The words appeared on the screen before Xavier even realized he had typed them, each letter a promise of vengeance, of justice. He hit send, the anger burning in his chest like a fire he couldn't contain.

For a moment, there was silence. Then his phone buzzed again.

"I'd love to see you try. Although, you may be a tad bit too late when you arrive. I've already claimed her in more ways than one."

Xavier froze. His entire world tilted as the implications of Sylus’s words sank into his mind like a dagger. Claimed her? In more ways than one? His body stiffened, the air around him suddenly feeling thick, suffocating.

Had this monster…forced himself on you?

His breath caught in his throat, fury surging through him like a wildfire. No. No, he couldn't have. The thought of Sylus putting his hands on you, of violating you in any way, made Xavier feel like he was about to explode. His heart pounded in his chest, rage clouding his vision.

He couldn’t stop his fingers from moving, the words fueled by a deep, primal fury.

"You fucking bastard. I'll kill you."

The message was blunt, raw, and filled with a hatred so deep that it practically burned through the screen. Xavier’s body trembled, his pulse roaring in his ears as he waited, barely able to breathe.

Sylus’s response came quickly, sharp and dismissive, as if this were nothing more than a game to him.

"We'll be in touch. I'll be watching. Ciao."

Xavier's hand shook as he stared at the words. Sylus had won, for now. He had all the control, all the power. He had you. And as much as Xavier wanted to tear the phone apart, to destroy everything in his path, there was nothing he could do. Not yet.

The fight wasn’t over, but it had just gotten infinitely more personal.

And Xavier knew he wouldn’t rest until Sylus was dead.

Xavier stared at his phone in disbelief, his heart racing as he watched messages with Sylus disappeared. What the hell? He hadn’t deleted them. He frantically swiped at the screen, refreshing, trying to bring them back, but there was nothing. Just an empty thread where Sylus’s taunting words had been only moments before. Gone.

His chest tightened, a cold wave of dread sweeping over him. Could Sylus really manipulate his phone? Could he get into his messages, erase things at will? The thought made Xavier’s blood run cold. Sylus wasn’t just some twisted mob boss; he had control over everything—his world, his technology, even his mind. He was everywhere, watching every move Xavier made. It felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

His hand trembled as he stared at the blank screen. Sylus had just stripped him of the only connection he had left. No evidence. No trail.

Xavier swallowed hard and clicked on your profile picture, seeking something—anything—to ground him. Your smiling face filled the screen, staring back at him with that familiar warmth, and for a moment, his heart clenched so painfully that it felt like he couldn’t breathe. You. He could see you so clearly in his mind—your laugh, the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, the way you had looked at him with concern that last night, like you always knew when something was wrong.

He clicked on the last message he had sent you, his heart aching with a bitter sense of nostalgia.

"Meet me outside my door, it’s urgent."

You had rushed over that night, your knock echoing in his memory—quick and frantic, just like you. He could still see you standing in his doorway, breathless, your brow furrowed with worry, the anxious look on your face as you took in his tense expression.

You’d been worried about him—worried about what was going on. He hadn’t meant to scare you, but in a way, your worry had been endearing. You looked so cute when you were worried about him.

He remembered how his heart had skipped a beat when he saw you there, how he’d calmed you down with a soft smile, suggesting the two of you go grab food together. He had something to tell you. Something important.

That night—the last night he saw you—had been etched into his mind ever since. The kiss. The confession. The memory replayed over and over in his head, a cruel reminder of what he had lost. The way his heart had raced when he finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt. The words had tumbled out of him—nervous, but genuine. He remembered the way you’d looked at him, eyes wide with surprise, and for a moment, he thought he’d blown it.

But then…you kissed him.

God, that kiss. Xavier’s breath caught in his throat as the memory washed over him. The softness of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his. The way his heart had nearly burst from his chest when you leaned into him, your fingers brushing against his skin as if testing the waters. He remembered how everything else had faded away in that moment. There had been no Hunter’s Association, no missions, no danger. Just you and him, wrapped up in each other, the world melting into the background.

That kiss had been everything he’d hoped for and more. It had been sweet, tentative at first, but quickly deepened into something more, something real. He could still feel the way his fingers had tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as the heat between you grew. He had wanted to lose himself in you, to never let go. It felt right. More right than anything had in years.

But then…he had pulled away. He had stopped himself. Why? Why hadn’t he just asked you to come home with him? Why hadn’t he let the night go further? He had been scared. Scared of pushing too far, too fast. Scared of ruining what you had just started.

And now you were gone.

Xavier’s chest ached as the regret hit him like a tidal wave. If he had just asked you to stay, if he had let you come home with him that night, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe you wouldn’t have been taken. Maybe Sylus wouldn’t have you now.

His heart clenched painfully as he stared at your smiling profile picture, the weight of his regret suffocating him. He wished he could turn back time, take back that night, change everything. He had been too cautious, too afraid to push things forward. And now… now he was paying the price.

With a shaky hand, Xavier typed a message into the empty thread.

"I am coming, my love. When you read this, we will be together again."

The words blurred on the screen, and he stared at them for a long moment before pressing send. He didn’t know if you’d ever see it. Didn’t know if you’d even get a chance to read it. But it didn’t matter.

He was coming for you.

No matter what it took, he would find you. Sylus or no Sylus, he wasn’t going to stop until he had you back in his arms. Safe.

Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts, his heart leaping in his chest.

“Xavier? I heard you were back. Is now a good time?” Captain Jenna’s voice came from the other side of the door, calm but commanding as always. Xavier felt a rush of dread wash over him. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to face anyone right now, to lie to Jenna’s face after everything he had just uncovered. But he had no choice.

His gaze dropped back to his phone, to the message he had just sent you, your smiling contact photo staring back at him like a distant memory of a life that felt so far away now. He had to lie. Sylus was watching. Everything depended on him playing his part.

With a deep breath, Xavier shut off the phone, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he tried to steady himself. The weight of it all—the anger, the regret, the fear—pressed down on him, but he couldn’t let it show. He had to wear the mask. For now.

He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. His voice was steady, controlled, even as the storm raged inside him.

"Yes…come in."

The door creaked open, and Xavier sat up straighter, forcing a calm expression as Captain Jenna stepped into the room. His heart still ached, the images of you still burned into his mind, but he would do what he had to.

For you.

You lay on the cold bathroom floor, your body still trembling from the aftermath of your vomiting. The cool tile pressed against your cheek, grounding you in reality, even though you desperately wanted to drift away from it. You felt weak, drained, as though the life had been wrung out of you by your own body’s betrayal. The soft hum of the overhead light buzzed, the only sound breaking through the thick silence that surrounded you. The nausea still churned in your stomach, but now it felt different—this wasn’t from sickness. This was from the weight of the truth sitting heavy in your chest, pressing down harder with every shallow breath you took.

You stared at the boxes of pregnancy tests that sat between you and the bathroom entrance, their neat, pristine packaging somehow mocking you. They were simple—just cardboard and plastic—but they felt like they had the power to tear your world apart. They loomed in the small space like a ticking bomb, waiting for you to take the next step. You knew what Sylus wanted. He wanted confirmation. He had planted the seed—literally—and now he was waiting, watching for the inevitable proof.

His words echoed in your mind, even though he was no longer in the room. "Take your time. I'll be in the room." The gentle kiss he had placed on your forehead before leaving left an imprint, a brand you couldn’t shake off. The way he had looked at you, with that dark, possessive patience, still sent chills down your spine. You hated it. Hated him.

The soft sound of his shoes getting farther and farther away had felt like a death sentence.

Now, you were alone. Alone with the tests and your growing fear.

You curled up tighter on the floor, wrapping your arms around your legs as if that could somehow shield you from what was coming. This can’t be real. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you tried to blink them away. You had to think. You had to focus, but all you could feel was the overwhelming weight of dread pressing down on you.

Your gaze kept drifting back to the boxes. What were your options?

The thought crossed your mind—maybe you could slam your head against the sink or the floor until everything went black. Maybe that would buy you some time. Maybe you could avoid facing this nightmare for just a little longer. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t kill you. You’d wake up with a concussion, maybe worse, and Sylus would simply chain you to the bed, his control tightening even further.

No. There was no escaping this.

Your chest tightened, and the panic began to rise again, bubbling up inside you until it was choking you. The silence in the room grew heavier, like the air itself was thickening, pressing down on your lungs. You could barely breathe.

You sat up slowly, every movement feeling like you were dragging yourself through quicksand. It’s fine. It’s just stress. You’re not pregnant. You’re just sick. That’s it. The nausea, the dizziness, the aches—they’re from being here. From the constant tension. It’s Sylus messing with your mind.

You weren’t pregnant. You couldn’t be.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept in. The signs had been there for days now, maybe even weeks. The constant exhaustion, the strange tenderness in your body, the way your stomach felt uneasy after every meal. Even the smallest things—like how your clothes had started to feel just a little bit tighter, or how your body seemed heavier, more sluggish. No. No.

You swallowed hard, staring at the boxes again. Despite the lavish bathroom being huge, the room felt too small, the walls too close. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as you reached for one of the boxes, your hands trembling.

Fine. You’d take the test, and then you’d laugh. You’d prove Sylus wrong. You could already imagine the smug look on his face melting away when you showed him the negative result. He was toying with you. This was just another one of his cruel games, right?

Your fingers fumbled with the box, your hands shaking so badly that you almost dropped it. The cheap cardboard tore under your grip, and you finally managed to pull the pregnancy test free. The plastic felt cold and foreign in your hand, like you didn’t even know what to do with it.

How did you end up here? How did this become your reality?

You stood up slowly, your legs wobbling beneath you, and shuffled awkwardly toward the toilet. The nausea rose again, a sickening wave that made you gag, but you swallowed it down, willing yourself to keep it together. It’s just a test. Just a stupid test.

The test felt clumsy in your grasp as you positioned yourself awkwardly. You had never thought you’d ever have to take a test until you were ready for a baby. Pregnancy hadn't been on your radar for awhile. You had always been careful, always taken the necessary precautions.

Birth control had supposed to been your protector.

But then Sylus...

You closed your eyes for a second, biting down on your lip hard enough to taste blood, and then you did it. After a few tense moments, you placed the test on the counter and sat back down on the floor.

Now you had to wait.

The seconds ticked by, stretching into what felt like hours. The ticking of the clock on the wall filled the room, each sound loud and grating in the stillness. Your heart pounded in your chest, so fast and so loud that it almost drowned out the noise around you. Not pregnant. You’re not pregnant.

You curled your knees to your chest, rocking slightly as you waited, your stomach churning with nausea, but this time from the overwhelming sense of dread that was building inside of you. The thought of looking at that test, of confirming what Sylus had already suspected, made your skin crawl. It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not real.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you forced yourself to stand. Your legs were shaking, and your hands were clammy as you reached for the test. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, willing yourself to have the strength to look. It’s going to be negative. You’re going to laugh at this. You’re going to shove it in Sylus’s face.

But when you finally opened your eyes, the world tilted beneath your feet.

Two faint pink lines.

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind refusing to process what you were seeing. No. You blinked, your vision blurring as you stared down at the test. No. You held it closer to your face, as if maybe, just maybe, you had read it wrong. But the lines didn’t change. They stayed there—two unmistakable lines.

Positive.

The air left your lungs in a painful rush, and the room began to spin. You dropped the test, the small plastic clattering against the tile as your legs gave out beneath you. You crumpled to the floor, your body folding in on itself as the sobs began to tear through you.

No. No. No.

You buried your face in your hands, the sobs coming harder now, shaking your entire body. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. But no matter how much you cried, no matter how much you wanted to deny it, the truth was staring you in the face.

You were pregnant.

Sylus had done this to you. He had taken everything from you—your freedom, your choices, your body—and now he had tied you to him in a way you couldn’t escape. You felt sick, disgusted, and utterly trapped. Your hand moved instinctively to your stomach, hovering there for a moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch it. This was real.

And there was no way out.

The scream ripped from your throat before you could even register the sound. It was raw, primal, and filled with the kind of desperation you hadn’t known you were capable of. Your entire body shook with the force of it, and you dug your nails into the cold tile, gasping for air through the sobs that wouldn’t stop. This can’t be happening. This thing inside you, this parasite that was feeding off your body, off your very life. The thought clawed at your mind, tearing you apart from the inside.

With shaking hands, you grabbed the pregnancy test box, rage surging through you as you hurled it across the bathroom. It hit the wall with a dull thud, the remaining tests scattering across the floor in a chaotic mess. It didn’t make you feel better. It didn’t release the boiling anger inside of you. The sobs only grew louder, more frantic, as the reality of it all hit you like a crushing weight. This was real.

Sylus had forced himself inside you. And now something else of his was also inside you.

You curled into yourself, pressing your hands against your stomach as if you could will the parasite away. Your breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, your chest heaving with the effort.

Get it out. Get it out.

You couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts, the feeling of complete and utter violation.

Then, the sound of hurried footsteps.

Through your tear-blurred vision, you saw Sylus rush into the bathroom, his eyes locking onto you instantly. His calm demeanor was gone, replaced by concern. He took in the scene—the scattered tests, the crumpled pregnancy box, and you, curled up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

His expression softened as he knelt down beside you, his hands reaching out as though to comfort you, to soothe your trembling body. “Shh…,” he murmured, his voice calm, almost tender, as he tried to get closer to you. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

But the sound of his voice—that voice—only sent another wave of fury through you. You recoiled from him, your body jerking away as his hands hovered too close, your head snapping up as you glared through tear-stained eyes.

“No!” you screamed, your voice raw and broken. “Don’t touch me!”

Sylus froze, his hands still hovering near you, but his face remained composed, watching your every move, your every tear with that same unsettling patience.

“You did this to me!” The words ripped from your throat, your voice shaking as you let the sobs tear through you again. “You put a parasite in me! It’s feeding off me! I hate you! I hate you!” Your body convulsed with the weight of your anger, your fear, your disgust.

Sylus didn’t flinch. His eyes darkened for just a moment as your words hit him, but he didn’t respond with anger. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice lowering as he spoke, "Honey. It’s okay. You’re overwhelmed. Let me help you.”

The tenderness in his voice only made your skin crawl more, and you pulled away again, pushing yourself against the wall as if it could somehow protect you from him. But you knew better. There was no escaping Sylus, not anymore.

“Get away from me!” you sobbed, your voice cracking under the strain. “I don’t want your help! You’ve ruined everything! You’ve taken everything from me! And now you’ve put this—this thing inside me!”

His face remained impassive, but there was something behind his eyes now—a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place. “It’s not a thing,” he said softly, inching closer again, though still careful not to touch you yet. “It’s a child, sweetie. Our child.”

Those words sent a violent shiver through you, and your stomach turned. Our child. The thought made you feel like you were suffocating. Your breaths grew more frantic, your body trembling harder as the sobs became desperate gasps. No. You couldn’t accept that. You wouldn’t.

“You’ve trapped me,” you whispered, your voice shaking with anger, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “You’ve ruined my life. I’ll never forgive you for this. Never.”

"You were planning to forgive me?" he asked, half jokingly and half confused. You don't respond immediately glaring at him for a few short seconds, as if trying to force his existence away altogether.

"Fuck off!"

Sylus remained calm, even as you spat your words at him, even as you screamed your hatred in his face. He sat back slightly, watching you crumble before him. He didn’t respond with cruelty, nor did he try to argue. He simply waited, his gaze never leaving you, his presence like a suffocating blanket that you couldn’t escape. You hated him for it—hated how composed he was, how in control he remained even as you fell apart at his feet.

He let your sobs fill the room, let you scream and cry and tremble, but eventually, when your voice grew hoarse and the tears ran dry, he leaned closer again, this time more confident in his movements. He reached out, this time taking your face gently in his hands, his thumb brushing the stray tears from your cheeks.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Sylus murmured, his voice calm, steady. “But you will understand. In time.”

Your body went rigid at his touch, but you didn’t have the strength to pull away anymore. You were too drained, too broken. The weight of it all had settled into your bones, and you felt like there was nothing left inside of you but emptiness. Even the rage had flickered out, leaving you with nothing but a hollow pit of despair.

“Let me help you,” Sylus said again, his hands still holding your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “I know you’re scared. I know this wasn’t what you wanted. But you’ll see, sweetie. This child—they will change everything.”

His words made your blood boil again, but the fight had gone out of you. All you could do was stare up at him, your body trembling, tears still streaking down your face. The cold tile pressed against your back, grounding you in this horrible reality. You were trapped. Bound to him in a way you could never escape.

And he knew it.

Sylus’s hands stayed steady on your face, his touch far too gentle for the storm raging inside you. You felt like you were breaking apart, crumbling in his grip, but even through the haze of tears and anger, he remained composed, calm. His thumb brushed away the tears still spilling from your eyes, and he let out a soft sigh.

"I don’t like seeing you cry," he murmured, his voice a low hum that seemed to reverberate through the small bathroom. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours, unblinking. "But if you must…then cry on me."

His words made your heart clench painfully, the bile rising in your throat again as the weight of his command—no, his offer—settled over you. Cry on him? The thought disgusted you, but you were too exhausted, too torn apart to resist any longer. The sobs were still clawing at your throat, your body shaking with the effort of trying to keep them down. You hated him. You hated him so much, but he was the only thing there, the only thing keeping you tethered to reality in this moment, twisted as that reality had become.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, your forehead pressing into his chest as the tears came again, harder this time. Your fists clenched against the fabric of his shirt, your sobs muffled against him as you shook uncontrollably. It felt like your mind was unraveling, slipping away from you, and you hated that he was the only option you had for any semblance of comfort. Sylus. The man who had orchestrated all of this.

You despised him, and yet…you clung to him. There was no one else.

You had no other choice.

Your sobs came in waves, each one more broken than the last, your body wracked with the force of your grief. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in closer, holding you tightly against him. His hand began stroking your back, slow and deliberate, the movement meant to soothe, to quiet the storm inside of you. And it made your skin crawl, made you want to tear away from him, but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

He leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your hair as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t how you wanted it, but…I love you.” His voice was gentle, almost tender, and the sound of it only made the nausea twist harder in your stomach.

"I love you," he repeated softly, like a promise, his fingers tracing slow, calming circles on your back. "I can’t wait to hold our baby. Half you, half me…perfect."

Your body stiffened at his words, bile rising again, but you didn’t move. You didn’t have the strength. Instead, you cried harder into his chest, the fabric of his shirt wet with your tears as you tried to block out what he was saying, tried to close off the part of your mind that was registering the sheer genuineness in his voice.

He sounded…excited. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was about to start crying.

Disgust rolled through you like a wave, but it was smothered by the exhaustion that had settled deep into your bones. How could he be excited about this? How could he speak so softly, so sweetly, about something so wrong? So vile? You hated him for it. Hated the way he talked about this baby, this thing inside of you, as if it were some dream come true.

"I can’t wait to see what our baby will be like," Sylus continued, his voice warm with anticipation. His hand never stopped its slow, soothing path along your back. "Regardless, they'll be beautiful, Just like you."

You wanted to scream at him. To pull away, to tear yourself out of his grasp and run as far as you could. But the reality was too suffocating, too crushing. Your body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t obey your mind. You were frozen in his arms, forced to listen to him speak about a future you couldn’t even begin to imagine, a future you wanted no part of.

"I don't want to give birth" you sob into his shirt, gripping your fists tighter.

"I know you’re scared," he whispered, his lips close to your ear now, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of both of you."

His words were like poison, slowly sinking into your mind, and you wanted to shove them away, to reject every syllable. But his hand on your back, his arms around you—it was all so steady, so calm. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t forcing you. He was just… there. Waiting for you to break.

"I’m sorry," Sylus murmured again, his voice soft, but full of that dark possessiveness you had come to dread. "But this…this is how it had to be. Things are just a little hard right now. Soon, you’ll see just how beautiful your life will be." His fingers stroked the back of your head gently, his voice a constant, maddening reassurance.

Your sobs began to quiet, but only because you had no energy left to cry. You hated him. God, you hated him. Every word he spoke made your stomach twist with revulsion, and yet, the sobs were now muffled against him, your body leaning into his, helpless in your own weakness.

"I love you," Sylus whispered one last time, his lips brushing against your temple. "And I love them too. Our little family."

A shudder ran through you, your heart breaking under the weight of his words. Our family. It sounded so wrong. So twisted. But he spoke with such genuine tenderness, with such sincerity, that it made your skin crawl. He meant it. He actually meant it.

And you were trapped.

Tied to him by something you never wanted, something that was now a part of you, growing inside you, linking you to him in a way you could never escape.

You finally tore yourself away from him, the anger bubbling up inside you until it felt like it would consume you whole. His touch felt like a poison, seeping into your skin, suffocating you. You stumbled out of his arms, putting as much distance between the two of you as your weakened body would allow. Disgusting freak. The words echoed over and over in your mind, ringing in your ears like a relentless drumbeat. This monster. He had done this to you. He had planted something inside you.

Your feet moved without you thinking, chain noisily dragging on the floor, carrying you out of the bathroom and toward the bed as if you could somehow escape the nightmare unfolding around you. He put a monster inside me. The thought made your stomach churn, your head spinning as you tried to grasp the enormity of it all. You were trapped. Trapped by him, by your own body, and now by this…thing growing inside you.

You could feel the bile rising in your throat again, the nausea twisting your insides into painful knots. You leaned over the bed, clutching the edge of the mattress as your body heaved, but this time it wasn’t just the nausea—it was the sheer revulsion, the overwhelming sense of betrayal. He had taken everything from you. Your freedom. Your choices. And now, he had taken control of your body in the most horrifying way imaginable.

Your mind raced, grasping for a way out, any way out. Hunger strike. You could starve yourself. You could stop eating, let your body waste away until there was nothing left for it to feed on. Maybe then, this nightmare would end. But the thought only lingered for a moment before another, darker idea crept in. Hot showers. You had read somewhere that pregnant women weren’t supposed to take hot showers. Could that work? Could you force your body to reject this thing inside you?

Your mind spiraled, the possibilities flashing through your thoughts in quick, frantic bursts, none of them staying long enough to feel real. You didn’t know if it would work. You didn’t know if any of this would work. But you had to try, didn’t you? You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t let Sylus win.

A sharp wave of nausea hit you again, pulling you back to the present, and you gagged, clutching the bed for support as your body threatened to betray you once more. You wanted to vomit, to purge this feeling, this sickness, to purge the very thought of what was happening to you. Maybe you should vomit all over the bed. It would serve him right. His pristine, perfect bed, ruined by the very thing he had caused.

But before you could move, before you could make the decision to act, you heard him behind you.

“Easy, honey.” His voice was soft, infuriatingly gentle, and the sound of it sent a violent shiver down your spine. You felt his hands on you again, his touch light but firm as he gently turned you around, guiding you back toward the bathroom with a patience that made your stomach twist even more.

Why is he doing this? You couldn’t understand it. Your mind couldn’t process the calmness, the care in his movements. After everything he’s done. After all the control he’d exerted over you, the pain, the manipulation…why was he being gentle now? Why was he acting like he cared?

Before you could think any further, your body betrayed you. The nausea you had been holding back surged forward, and before you could stop it, the vomit spilled from your mouth, coating Sylus’s shirt and splattering onto the floor below. The bile burned your throat, and for a moment, you were too shocked to react, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Your heart stopped, panic surging through you as your mind caught up to what had just happened. Shit. You stared at the mess you had made, your body frozen in place as you waited for the inevitable. He’s going to lose it. You had just vomited all over him, all over his perfect, controlled exterior. Surely this would snap his calm. Surely this would make him angry.

But to your utter shock, Sylus didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all. His face remained impassive, his expression as calm and composed as it had been moments ago, as though the vomit on his shirt didn’t even register.

“Do you feel better at least, honey?” His voice was filled with amusement, almost soothing, as if this were just another normal moment between the two of you, as if you hadn’t just thrown up all over him.

You stared at him in disbelief, your breath still shaky as your mind tried to process what was happening. How can he be so calm? He's seriously asking if you feel better after throwing up on him? You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but give a small, weak nod, your body still trembling from the exertion of vomiting. You did feel better after that...not just physically, the nausea settling at last. Something about seeing Sylus covered in vomit, something he was the indirect cause of, was satisfying.

Sylus let out a low, amused laugh, his eyes softening as he watched you. “Good, that's all I care about” he said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Without another word, he pulled the vomit-covered shirt over his head, tossing it aside in one fluid motion. His chiseled chest and abs were now fully visible, and despite the disgust still swirling in your gut, you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed with heat. You quickly averted your gaze, hating the way your body reacted to the sight of him, hating that even now, after everything, your body still betrayed you.

But Sylus didn’t seem to notice your reaction. Or at least, pretended not to notice. He reached out again, his touch gentle as he guided you back toward the bed. “Come on, lie down,” he said softly, his voice laced with that same unsettling tenderness. “I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.”

You hesitated, the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. You didn’t want to do what he said, didn’t want to follow his instructions, but your body had reached its limit. The fight had drained out of you, leaving you feeling like an empty shell, hollow and spent. Without another word, you collapsed onto the bed, your limbs heavy and weak as you sank into the soft mattress.

As you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but watch him through teary, half-lidded eyes. You expected him to be angry, to snap at you, to make you clean up the mess you had made, but instead, Sylus crouched down and began cleaning up the vomit with meticulous care. He wiped the floor with a towel after spraying some kind of cleaner, his movements precise and deliberate, as though this were just another part of his daily routine.

Why is he doing this? The question gnawed at you, tearing at the edges of your sanity. Why is he being so gentle? So calm. Shouldn’t he be yelling at you? Shouldn’t he be furious that you had ruined his shirt, that you had made such a mess? But there he was, calmly wiping the floor, acting like none of it bothered him in the slightest.

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

As you lay there, your body still trembling from the effort of vomiting, you felt a strange sense of detachment settle over you. You were watching him clean up your mess, watching him act like he cared, and it was like you were seeing it all from a distance. He’s supposed to be your captor. He’s supposed to be the monster that destroyed your life, the one who took away everything you cared about.

So why…why was he going to such lengths to take care of you? Especially after ignoring you for days and days on end before his trip?

The questions swirled in your mind, each one more unsettling than the last, but you were too tired, too overwhelmed to find any answers. You hated him. You despised him for what he had done to you. And yet…here he was, gently cleaning up after you, tending to you like you were something precious, something fragile.

When he finished, Sylus turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes met yours. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate as he sat down on the edge of the bed beside you.

“Feeling any better? I have plenty more shirts for you to vomit on if the answer is no” he joked, his voice gentle, almost kind.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. The words stuck in your throat, tangled with the confusion and anger and exhaustion that had settled deep in your chest. Instead, you stared up at him, your tear-filled eyes searching his face for any sign of malice, any trace of the cruelty you had come to expect from him.

But there was none. Just that same calm, that same unsettling tenderness that made your skin crawl.

Sylus reached out, his hand brushing the damp hair away from your face. His touch was gentle, soothing, and you wanted to pull away, to scream at him, but your body wouldn’t obey. You were too tired. Too drained. So you let him touch you, let him stroke your hair as you lay there, staring up at him with a mix of hatred and confusion.

“Rest, kitten,” Sylus murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You've had a long day.”

As he continued to stroke your hair, you felt your body begin to relax against your will, the exhaustion pulling you under like a heavy blanket. You hated him. God, you hated him. But you couldn’t fight anymore. Not now.

And as your eyelids grew heavier, the last thought that flickered through your mind was one you couldn’t shake:

Are monsters capable of love?

You were running.

The world around you was a blur, dark and suffocating, your feet pounding against the ground as you sprinted forward. The only sound filling the air was the piercing cry of the baby in your arms—a sound so loud, so shrill, it felt like it was splitting your skull. You tried to hush it, tried to quiet the wailing, but the baby’s cries only grew louder, more insistent, drowning out everything else. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as you clutched the baby closer, but it was no use.

You couldn’t escape.

No matter how fast you ran, no matter how far you went, he was always behind you. Sylus. You could feel him closing in, his presence pressing down on you like a heavy shadow, lurking just beyond the edge of your vision. You couldn’t keep away from him like this—not with the baby. The weight of it slowed you down, its cries echoing in your ears, making it impossible to think, impossible to escape.

You needed to get rid of it.

Your eyes darted around, frantically searching for somewhere—anywhere—to put the baby. Your heart raced faster, your pulse thundering in your ears as you looked for a way out, for a place to hide. And then, you saw it: a box. An old, weathered box sitting in the shadows, half-open as if it were waiting for you.

Without thinking, you stumbled toward it, your legs trembling beneath you as you approached. You looked down at the baby in your arms, its face red and scrunched up as it screamed, its tiny hands clutching at your clothes, and for a moment, a flicker of guilt tugged at the edges of your mind. But this is the only way. You had to get rid of it. You couldn’t keep running, not with this weight dragging you down.

The box seemed to beckon you, and with shaking hands, you placed the baby inside. Its cries grew louder, more desperate, echoing off the walls as you closed the lid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You couldn’t look back. You couldn’t let the guilt stop you.

The baby’s screams filled the air, shrill and deafening, but you turned away.

You took a step, then another, walking further and further from the box. The cries became distant, muffled, as if the sound was being swallowed by the darkness. It’s over. The baby was gone. You were free.

But then…a voice.

It was small, almost childlike, but laced with something dark, something that sent a chill racing down your spine.

“How could you leave me, Mommy?”

You froze, your heart stopping in your chest as the words hung in the air. Slowly, you turned, your breath catching in your throat as you looked back at the box. The baby’s cries had stopped. Silence pressed down on you, thick and heavy, making the air around you feel too dense to breathe.

“Don’t you love me?” the voice continued, and you felt your blood run cold. The lid of the box creaked open, and your heart sank. You wanted to run, but your legs wouldn’t move. You were rooted to the spot, helpless as the baby climbed out, but it wasn’t a baby anymore.

It had changed.

The thing that crawled out of the box was no longer the small, fragile infant you had left behind. Its body had twisted, morphed into something grotesque. Its skin was pitch black and sickly, its limbs too long, its eyes too wide and gleaming with a cruel intelligence.

The baby—the monster—fixed its gaze on you, a twisted smile stretching across its face. “You’re the monster, not me,” it hissed, its voice dripping with venom. “You’re the one who abandoned me. You’re the one who doesn’t care.”

You stumbled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the creature advanced on you, its twisted body contorting as it moved. You wanted to scream, wanted to turn and run, but your body wouldn’t obey. You were paralyzed with fear, trapped in the nightmare as the creature’s words pierced through you.

The creature lunged at you, its clawed hands reaching out, its sharp teeth bared. “You’re the monster!” it screamed, its voice echoing in your mind, the accusation burning into your thoughts as it leaped forward.

And then everything went black.

You jolted awake, your body drenched in sweat, your heart racing as though it were about to burst from your chest.

You held a trembling hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart after the nightmare. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, your skin still damp with sweat. Just a nightmare. Another horrible, twisted nightmare. You should’ve been relieved that it wasn’t real, but the fear clung to you, refusing to let go. What if the dreams kept getting worse?

The memory of the baby—no, the monster—flashed in your mind. It had lunged at you, screaming that you were the monster. You shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to push the image away. It was just a dream, nothing more. But why did it feel so real? And why did it feel like it was more than just your imagination running wild?

You hadn’t wanted to sleep in the first place. The only reason you’d fallen asleep at all was because of your outburst earlier having taken all your energy. The exhaustion had finally pulled you under, but instead of the relief you craved, it had brought you nothing but torment. Awful, suffocating dreams that clung to you even now.

Your hand drifted down to your belly, and you hesitated, unsure of what you were even feeling for.

Are you even real?

The thought echoed in your mind, your fingers hovering over your stomach as if touching it would make it all real, too real. Maybe the test had been wrong. Maybe this was all some twisted lie Sylus had fed you.

But then, another, more terrifying thought crossed your mind. When would you feel it move? The idea made your stomach churn with nausea again. The thought of something growing inside you, something moving, living… it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. You pressed your hand harder against your stomach, as if trying to confirm or deny the existence of this thing.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps, and before you could react, the door opened. Sylus shuffled in, a plate of waffles balanced in his hands. His presence filled the room, his footsteps soft but heavy enough to send a chill down your spine. The smell of syrup and cinnamon filled the air.

"Another bad dream?" he asked, his voice far too gentle for the weight of the situation. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to acknowledge him, but you found yourself nodding despite the effort it took to keep yourself together.

Sylus set the plate down in front of you, the smell of food wafting up, making your stomach turn again. You couldn’t even think about eating, not after the dream, not after the terrifying thought of something moving inside you. You didn't want to eat. Didn't want to nourish the beast inside you. But you stayed silent, gripping the blanket in your lap as you tried to focus on anything but the food or the man standing so close.

He sat beside you, his fingers reaching out to gently stroke your hair, as if this were all so normal, as if you weren’t crumbling from the inside. His touch made your skin crawl, but you didn’t have the strength to push him away.

"I want you to take another test," he said softly, his hand continuing its slow, deliberate strokes through your hair. "No worries, it won’t be the ones you threw on the floor."

You gulped, your throat suddenly dry, dread settling like a stone in your stomach. Another test. You didn’t want to face the reality you were so desperately trying to avoid. Once was enough, wasn’t it? You had already seen those two faint pink lines that had shattered your world. But now, you’d have to face it again.

You said nothing, staying silent as you stared at the plate in front of you, your mind racing. Sylus didn’t seem bothered by your lack of response. His fingers never stopped stroking your hair, a twisted form of comfort that only made you feel more trapped.

"I’d estimate you’re about four weeks and four days pregnant right now, sweetie," he continued, his voice soft, almost as if he were talking about the weather. "At about six to seven weeks, I’m having a doctor come here to do an ultrasound. We’ll also hear the baby’s heartbeat."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Ultrasound. Heartbeat. The reality of it felt like it was closing in on you, suffocating you. Your mind reeled at the thought of it—of hearing something inside you. Something that was half him.

You stared at the food, your appetite gone completely now, your chest tightening as you fought the rising panic. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to see it. You didn’t want any of this. But Sylus was already talking about the future, about this baby, like it was a certainty, like it was his dream coming to life.

You felt like screaming, but the words caught in your throat, trapped by the fear and helplessness. All you could do was sit there, nodding numbly as he continued to stroke your hair, his voice a constant reminder that you were trapped in this nightmare.

You finally mustered the courage to speak, your voice trembling as the words left your mouth. “How do you know how far along I am? Are you secretly an OB-GYN or something?”

For a moment, the room hung in silence, thick and heavy with tension. Sylus’s eyes flickered with amusement before he let out a soft, almost casual laugh, like the question had genuinely entertained him. The sound of it made your stomach churn, the lightness of his reaction so at odds with the fear gnawing at your insides.

“No, kitten,” he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with that familiar confidence that always left you on edge. “I told you. I’ve been tracking your period and ovulation.”

Your body froze. His words were like ice flooding your veins, your blood running cold as realization sank in. You felt yourself recoil, the room suddenly too small, too suffocating. Every muscle in your body tensed, the nausea swelling in your gut as the full weight of what he had just said hit you.

It wasn’t just some twisted joke. He had actually been tracking you—monitoring your body like it was a tool, like he was a puppeteer pulling invisible strings. He knew. Every detail. Every cycle. Every moment when your body had been vulnerable, he had been watching, waiting.

Your thoughts raced back to the night of your so-called “punishment,” the sex had seemed far too strange and easy to even really be considered a real punishment. You had been ovulating that day and he knew it. Now it all made sense. He planned everything. He had known what he was doing—carefully orchestrating every move like a sick game. You had thought he was cruel before, but this… this was something else. Something beyond cruelty.

You felt like your skin was crawling. He had planned it all, down to the most intimate detail of your body. The air felt too thick, your chest too tight as you struggled to breathe, your mind scrambling for some way to make sense of the horror of it all.

"Freak."

The word slipped from your lips, barely more than a whisper, but it carried every ounce of your disgust, your revulsion. You pushed the plate of waffles away from you, the sight and smell of food turning your stomach even more. How could you eat? How could you even stomach the idea of him feeding you after knowing the full extent of his manipulation?

But Sylus only chuckled again, the sound light and unfazed, as if your insult hadn’t landed at all. He picked up the fork and speared a piece of waffle, lifting it toward you with a grin that made your blood boil.

“Don’t be like that, kitten,” he coaxed, his tone playful, teasing, as though he hadn’t just shattered your world with his confession. He held the fork out to you, the piece of waffle balanced delicately on the end as if this were some kind of intimate gesture.

“Come on. Eat.”

You stared at him, your eyes wide with disbelief, your stomach twisting in knots. How could he be so casual, so calm about all of this? You wanted to knock the fork out of his hand, to scream at him, to make him see the rage and fear burning inside you, but the words caught in your throat.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, your voice weak but filled with defiance. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. The idea of accepting anything from him right now made you feel sick. You turned your head away, trying to block him out, your hands clenched so tightly in your lap that your nails dug painfully into your palms.

Sylus didn’t seem the least bit surprised by your refusal. He set the fork down on the plate, his movements calm and deliberate, his eyes never leaving you. His expression didn’t change. The amusement lingered in his gaze, but there was something else there now—something darker, something more determined.

“You can’t starve the baby,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more serious tone. The calmness in his voice made the words all the more chilling. “I won’t let you.”

The room seemed to grow colder, his words wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing tighter with every breath. Starve the baby. It was as if he had reached inside your mind, plucked the very thought you were trying to bury, and laid it out in front of you like a threat. He knew. He knew what you were thinking, what you were hoping for. And he wasn’t going to let you escape.

Your stomach dropped, the weight of his control pressing down on you like a physical force. There was no escape. You couldn’t starve the baby. You couldn’t do anything. He was right there, always one step ahead, already planning every outcome. He wasn’t angry—he didn’t need to be. The threat was already clear.

Sylus leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking with yours, his voice steady and unwavering. “I’ll take care of you,” he said softly, his tone almost gentle, but the underlying authority was unmistakable. “You and the baby. No matter what you do, I’ll be here.”

You could feel the rage building in your chest, bubbling up like a storm ready to break, but it was trapped beneath the suffocating weight of his words. The hopelessness. The helplessness. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to fight—but the exhaustion was already pulling you down, drowning you in the realization that there was no way out.

You glared at him, your teeth gritted, your hands trembling from the sheer force of holding back the torrent of emotions. But Sylus remained calm, his gaze unwavering, patient. He didn’t need to push. He didn’t need to force you. He knew he had already won.

Your thoughts raced, swirling in chaos, the air thick with tension. Your mind kept flashing to the nightmare, the baby’s cries morphing into screams, accusing you of being the monster. You couldn’t bear the thought of this thing growing inside you, something that would tie you to him forever.

But Sylus sat there, watching you, his expression a mixture of amusement and something far more sinister. He wasn’t going to let you escape this. He wasn’t going to let you do anything to harm the baby.

His baby.

And you knew, in that moment, that there was no fighting him. He was in control of everything—your body, your choices, your future.

“Eat,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words felt like chains binding you to him.

And as the silence settled in the room, you felt the walls close in, the hopelessness creeping in around you, suffocating you.

Your hands clenched into fists, your body shaking with a violent, rising fury. No. Fuck him. Fuck this baby. You couldn’t stomach the idea of giving in to his control, not again. You couldn’t let him win. If he was going to force you into this, so be it. You’d fight him every step of the way.

“I’m not eating,” you spat, your voice raw with anger. The defiance in your words was the last shred of resistance you had left, but you clung to it like a lifeline. You glared at him, trying to summon every ounce of strength to hold your ground. “I don’t care what you do. I won’t do this. I won’t be your prisoner, and I won’t nourish this—this thing.”

Sylus didn’t flinch. His face didn’t even shift. Instead, his lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement that made your skin crawl. There was no frustration in his expression, no anger, just the unnerving calm of someone who was always ten steps ahead. He had anticipated this. He had expected it. And that knowledge made your stomach turn, a chill crawling down your spine.

“Sweetie,” he said softly, his voice far too calm for the storm of emotions raging inside you. He tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating his next words carefully. “You have two choices. Either you eat and nourish the baby...or Xavier dies.”

The name hit you like a punch to the gut. All the air rushed from your lungs, your body going cold as the words sank in. Xavier. Your heart stuttered, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to collapse. You stared at Sylus, wide-eyed and trembling, the room spinning around you.

“No,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to process what he had just said. “No…you’ve killed him anyway! I won’t fall for your tricks!” You needed to believe it—to convince yourself that Xavier was already gone, that Sylus was lying, manipulating you. That this was just another one of his mind games.

But the way he was looking at you, so calm, so sure—it made you doubt. It made you fear.

“Actually,” Sylus cooed, his voice dripping with condescension. “Xavier is very much alive. He’s been looking for you. Quite the determined man, I’ll give him that.”

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, but you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. No. He’s lying. “You’re lying!” you screamed, your voice filled with desperation. “You’re trying to mess with my head!”

Sylus’s eyes gleamed with amusement, his lips curving into that same, unnerving smile. “Sweetie,” he said, his voice low and calm, but there was an edge to it now. “I am many things, but a liar to you? I am not. Do you really think that?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the words catching before you could respond. Of course you thought he was a liar. He was a manipulator, a monster. But something about the way he said it—the confidence, the certainty—made your blood run cold.

Before you could say anything, Sylus stood up, leaving the room without another word. You sat there, frozen, your heart pounding in your chest, the echo of Xavier’s name still ringing in your ears. He’s alive? No way. Sylus was playing with you. He had to be.

Moments later, the door creaked open again, and Sylus returned—holding something in his hand. You squinted, trying to make sense of it, and then you saw it. Your phone.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked onto the familiar case. Your phone. You hadn’t seen it in what felt like an eternity. It was as if a piece of your old life had been placed right in front of you, a stark reminder of the world outside of this nightmare.

Sylus walked closer, the phone dangling loosely from his fingers as he watched your reaction with a smug, knowing smile. He unlocked it with ease, swiping across the screen with fluid movements, and it didn’t surprise you in the slightest that he knew your passcode. Of course he did. He always knew everything.

But then, he turned the screen toward you.

Your breath stopped in your chest as you saw the text message on the screen, your heart thundering in your ears. The words stared back at you, sharp and undeniable:

“I am coming, my love. When you read this, we will be together again.”

Your hands flew to your mouth as a gasp escaped your lips. Xavier. He was alive. He was alive and looking for you. The realization hit you like a wave, crashing into you with such force that tears sprang to your eyes. All the fear, all the desperation you had bottled up came flooding out. He was still out there.

But Sylus…Sylus had him in his sights.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Leave him alone, you bastard!” The tears spilled over, running down your cheeks as you shook with a mixture of rage and despair. “Don’t you dare hurt him! Please!”

Sylus looked at you pitifully, his eyes softening as if your tears were hurting him. But you could see the satisfaction underneath it all, the way his lips curled just slightly at the edges. “You both love that nickname,” he said with a mocking sigh, as if indulging in a private joke.

“He had similar things to say when I talked to him.”

Your blood ran cold at the thought of Sylus getting anywhere near Xavier. He had spoken to him. Sylus had gotten close enough to Xavier to make him suffer. You clenched your fists, shaking with anger at the thought of the man you loved being at the mercy of this monster.

“Stay away from him!” you yelled, your voice cracking with the intensity of your emotions. You wanted to leap out of bed, to fight, but your body felt weak, your limbs heavy with hopelessness. “If you touch him, I swear I’ll—”

Sylus held up a hand, cutting you off mid-sentence. His eyes darkened, the playfulness vanishing in an instant as he looked at you with cold, unwavering authority. “Eat,” he said firmly, the command in his voice clear and sharp. “I won’t repeat myself.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

“If you kill our baby,” Sylus continued, his voice low and deliberate, “I kill him. Pretty fair, wouldn't you agree?”

The weight of his words sank into you like a stone, pulling you down into a pit of despair. You felt the ground fall away beneath you, the walls closing in as the finality of the situation crashed over you. This was it. There was no escape. If you didn’t obey, if you didn’t nourish this baby growing inside of you, Sylus would kill Xavier.

You could barely breathe, your chest tightening as the tears continued to flow down your cheeks. You hated him. You hated him so much it burned inside you like fire, but you couldn’t let him kill Xavier. You couldn’t.

With shaking hands, you reached for the fork, your vision blurred by tears. The weight of the utensil in your hand felt like a death sentence, like the final seal on the prison that had become your life. Your fingers trembled as you lifted the fork, your stomach twisting with disgust, but you couldn’t stop. You had to do this.

You stabbed the piece of waffle on the plate, your tears dripping onto the table as you brought the food to your mouth. It tasted like ash, like poison, as you forced yourself to chew. Your body revolted against it, every instinct screaming for you to spit it out, to reject it, but you couldn’t. You had no choice.

As you swallowed the bite of food, more tears slipped down your face. You felt hopeless, broken, the fight drained from you as you sat there, silently crying.

Sylus watched you, his eyes calm and satisfied. He leaned down slightly, brushing a hand through your hair, his voice soft and tender now.

“Good girl.”

You wanted to scream, but all that came out were silent sobs. You gripped the fork tighter, your knuckles losing all blood, as you prayed. Prayed that Xavier would find you.

“Hurry,” you whispered under your breath, your voice choked with emotion. “Please. Hurry.”

But deep down, the gnawing fear clawed at your heart—you knew there was no outrunning Sylus.

And as the silence stretched between you, the crushing weight of your reality settled over you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you gasping for breath.

[thought-you-knew]

pb&jj: roommates au: the one with the cat

Summary: you find a cat, and your roommates are less than thrilled, or so they say. that's it, that's the plot.

Pairings: pb&jj x platonic!reader/fem! reader (pairings may change if inspiration hits me and i expand on this)

Warnings: fluff, living with 4 guys, dialogue heavish. limited use of y/n, and the reader's appearance isn't described. rushed writing and not proofread.

Author's Note: I accidentally deleted this blog while trying to remove some of my older ones. This isn't plagiarized! divider by @saradika-graphics

You're passing the alley near your apartment when you hear a faint, distressed cry.  It makes you pause momentarily as you hear another cry. No, just keep walking. You almost do, but you're too familiar with the sound, and you can't walk away from a potential hurt animal.

Well, this is how I die

You take a deep breath and enter the alley, and soon discover where the noise is coming from. You stop at the dumpster and crouch down. Two small eyes peer up at you. A scraggly black kitten starts hissing with a slightly arched back.

"Hey," you murmur and gently hold out your hand, and the kitten backs up a bit. "It's okay." You reach out a hand a little further, and the kitten stops hissing slightly. You watch as the kitten cautiously sniffs your hand, and you tentatively scratch its head.

The kitten emits a slightly broken purr. The sound tugs at your heart. You finally manage to coax the kitten into your open hand. You finally stand, turn around, and stumble back, almost dropping the kitten.

Standing right behind you is your roommate, wearing an amused expression.

"Whatcha doin'?" He asks, and you automatically try hiding the kitten from him. You still don't know if your roommates are pro-pets."

"What are you doing? Why would you creepily sneak up on a woman in a dark alley?"

"I've actually been following you for a bit."

You glare at him. "That's even more creepy, Johnny." You pass him and head towards the sidewalk. The kitten remains oddly quiet.

"Eh, not my fault you're not more self-aware of your surroundings." He catches up with you.

"Or you could've just caught up to me like a normal roommate."

"Yeah, I could've, but I'm still keeping tabs on you, new roomie," Johnny says jokingly with a nudge.

"Again, creepy. I'm telling Peter."

Johnny speeds up and starts walking backwards in front of you with an easy-going smile.

"Why Peter? Cause you have a crush on him?"

You roll your eyes. "No, because I've known him the longest and he's the least annoying."

"Ouch! Hey, what's that?" He stops walking and points at your hand.  The entrance of the apartment building is just behind him, and you sidestep Johnny and head up the steps. "Hey, wait a second, missy." He grabs your shoulder, making you turn and face him.

"It's nothing."

"A small living nothing, that's great."

"C'mon, look," you plead, and shove the kitten closer towards Johnny's face. They have a stare-down. "Look how small and sad it is." Johnny's blue eyes meet yours. His face remains indifferent.

"It smells too."

You roll your eyes.

You're opening the door too slowly for Johnny's patient. It bangs against the wall, and you're surprised there isn't a dent in the wall from all the other times Johnny and Joaquin have enthusiastically thrown the front door open.

You take your shoes off and give an annoyed look as Johnny heads straight for the couch. The apartment is oddly quiet. Which is perfect, as you plan on heading to the bathroom so you can try to give the kitten a bath.

The sound of the shower running ruins your plans, and you backtrack to the kitchen.

You stop short at the sight of Bob and Peter in the kitchen. Both of them huddled around the stove.

"Hey," you say, and move the kitten behind your back. "What are you guys doing?"

They both turn, and Peter throws a hand up in hello. "Just experimenting," Bob says.

"Mhh. Sounds promising." You're half paying attention as you head towards the kitchen sink that sits opposite the stove. You turn your back on them and place the kitten in the sink.

The kitten lets out a disgruntled mew, making you tense. You're hoping the sounds from the TV mask the noise, but Peter has ears like a hawk.

"What was that?" You hear the amusement in his tone.

"Uh... I'm watching a cat video." You reply just as the kitten starts meowing.

"Aw, I love those. Can I see?" Oh Bob. It's almost endearing how gullible Bob is at times. It's too late for you to hide the kitten as Bob is already standing beside you.

He lets out a small gasp. "Where did you find him?"

"In a creepy alleyway. Our new roomie is a weirdo." Johnny informs as he joins Peter at the stove.

Peter sighs out your name and gives a slight shake of his head. "The building doesn't allow animals."

"Who else says the landlord has to know?" You counter.

Johnny lets out a low whistle. "Only a month in and you're already breaking rules, you rebel."

"Who's breaking rules?" Your final roommate, Joaquin, has joined the congregation in the kitchen. You almost turn back to face the sink when you see he's only in a towel.

Bob has a purring kitten cradled to his chest. You fight the urge to find your phone and take dozens of pictures of the adorable pair.

"Whoa, is that a cat?" You catch Joaquin's slightly disgusted face before he covers his nose and mouth. "You guys know I'm allergic."

"You're not." Bob, Peter, and Johnny say.

"Fine, I'm not. But I'm not a big fan of cats." Joaquin drops his hand and makes sure to stay furthest from Bob.

You turn back to Peter. "Peter, please, just for a few days and-"

"One night." Joaquin cuts in, and you ignore him.

"And then I'll take the kitten to the shelter."

"One night," Joaquin repeats, and you side eye him.

"Aw, do we have to take him to the shelter?" Bob asks as he rubs the kitten's head with his chin.

"Dude! That thing is probably covered in fleas and god knows what else! Joaquin is beside himself. Bob just shrugs.

"No, I agree with Joaquin," Johnny says.

"Okay, let's vote." You say and look towards Peter for backup. Hoping he'll side with you and Bob.

"Fine, all for the kitten staying?" You and Bob obviously raise your hands. While Johnny and Joaquin stare Peter down. In the end, Peter raises his hand, which makes the other two groan.

Joaquin points towards the kitten with a slight glare. "Count your days," he says, and leaves the kitchen.

The night ends with you and Bob bathing and feeding the kitten. Later, you're cuddling the kitten in your bed and trying to think of creative ways to persuade Johnny and Joaquin to let you keep the kitten.

The usual loud morning noises wake you. Sitting up, you see the kitten is gone. You search under your bed and the rest of the room, only to find it kittenless.

You rush down the hall and into the kitchen. "Has anyone seen..." The words die in your throat at the sight before your eyes. Joaquin is at the stove, shirtless again, but with a particular kitten draped across his shoulders.

MASTERLIST HERE

[syn0vial]

yes, yes, boba fett finds it strange and uncomfortable when people can see his face and this is one of the major reasons he almost never removes his helmet (in the expanded universe anyway), but another factor that i think isn't explored nearly enough is just how much his helmet shapes how he sees the world. it grants him 360° vision, lets him interface with his weapon systems and slave I, and automatically dampens loud noises and dims bright lights. imagine going through the vast majority of your life seeing the world through that lens and then suddenly taking it away. removing his helmet for any significant length of time likely isn't just uncomfortable for him but downright disorienting.

[thatsdemko]

without me? - l.norris

masterlist | pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the silence he enters to is odd… but was there ever really any silence?

warnings: smut + not intended for minors + no plot?

a/n: reminder this is 18+ content!!! I need some serious motivation to write smut so if anyone has any….

there’s a stillness to the room that he just can’t describe. like everything in his apartment looks so picturesque, the sun setting, a dimly lit lamp in the corner. the eery sound of quietness are odd against his ears.

the sounds of the rubber against the pavement, the whirling of drills and tools, the vibration of the car still keep his body in working mode. the endorphins swell his brain with happiness and serenity as he walks from the living room towards the bedroom.

that’s when he finally begins to hear noise.

at first it’s just the faint sound of the mattress squeaking, then, he as steps closer, he can begin to hear the headboard rattling against the wall. whatever he was feeling in his brain shot straight down to his cock and spread an aching in him.

he couldn’t stand behind this door any longer. finally pressing his palm into the knob, he pushes the door gently. his eyes are greeted with the best sight; you. legs apart, vibrator in hand, your hair sprawled across the pillow case, and the oh so sweet sounds of your whimpers are flooding his eardrums.

he can’t help it, the smile that spreads is cocky. you look pathetic and helpless, like something was clearly holding you back, and god he couldn’t wait to put you out of your misery.

you didn’t head the door open, and you certainly didn’t hear the drop of his bags, but you did feel his hand grasp yours and toss the vibrator to the side.

“lando,” you whimper softly. your eyes flutter open for a brief second, you see he’s removing his belt from his waist, and in his own eyes he has some sort of thirst and desire he can’t resist.

you don’t blame him, you’d been waiting for him. you spent all afternoon cleaning to erase your mind from the nasty thoughts you had about your boyfriend. you could still see the ass and hand prints against the shower glass, you could still recall how he fucked you until both of you came collapsing onto the floor.

every part of this house was haunted with some sort sexual memory, and you had attempted to clean it all awaiting to start new ones, but that wasn’t enough. after all that, you still felt unfulfilled. so enter the vibrator, and now, finally, there was lando.

lando’s hips grind against yours, his cock fitting nicely inside you, warmth radiates off of him. your back arches in an automatic response, your body molding up into his, he pushes you down. it’s not stern, but it wasn’t a gentle gesture either, it was still hot coming from him. possessiveness was something lando never lacked.

his thrusts become harder, nonsensical words fall from his lips that range from “I missed you” to “fucking wet” and none of them strung a proper sentence. you just allowed him to take you to the place you couldn’t quite get to with a mechanical toy, and you thank him with peppering kisses to his neck that you know you’ll get shit for tomorrow.

“never fucking do that without me.” he grunts rolling off your body to lay beside you. he takes a moment to catch his breath before sitting back up, “the place is too clean.” he states.

nodding your head you turn in his direction, “do you want to mess it up again?”

“fuck yes.”

[transformers-spike]

Heya :3 I saw a "what if Cybertronians saw a human with Tourette syndrome" ask and I was like... oooooh what about Autism? I mean like high functionning *cough cough* me *cough cough*

You know with the overstims, the "eww I hate *insert texture here* it feels weird" , the huuuge hyperfixations, the probable constant wearing of noise cancelling headsets when there's too much noise?

Like OMFFGGG NOW I'M IMAGINING RATCHET JUST BEING SO UNDERSTANDING WHEN I'M LIKE "help me I need peace or else I'll fucking explode" DURING A SENSORY OVERLOAD AND HE JUST HELPS ME GET TO A MORE QUIETER SPACE AND WAITS FOR ME TO FEEL BETTER AJDSIUFYARUKSYFHAWI-

(sorry for the rant + luv ur writing and art :>)

Bro I'm 100% into this. It's something I'm keenly familiar with because I'm also autistic.

I think the constant metal grating against metal would absolutely kill me, so noise-cancelling headphones it is.

Ratchet can be helpful in a "remove human from overstimulation" sense, while Bumblebee is a lot more keen to just hang around you until you feel a bit better. Dunno if his beeps help tho...

Smokescreen fucks up at first by being loud, but he'd pretty willing to learn, and certainly does his best to make you feel ok

Just hang around Ultra Magnus and Optimus if you want general quiet

Soundwave is helpful in the most basic way. He's a silent motherfucker, and this automatically gives him an advantage

[revelboo]

Poor D-16 is gonna be asking the "Minicon" do many questions and the human is gonna just look at him like "Sir this is a Wendys"

He’ll figure out they’re not a minicon way before that comes up. They’re going to run out of air in their tank and have to remove the helmet sooner or later 🤣

Fight For You Pt 3

D 16 x Reader

• Staring up at him as he gestures excitedly and growl-rumbles in his awful, grating language at you, you’re pretty sure he’s more excited about seeing your teammate than you are. Pointing at the image and then waving the other hand as he yammers. And okay, maybe his energy is a tiny bit cute now that you’re relatively sure he’s not going to harm you. Hopefully. And he grins down at you before reaching to retrieve a glowing cube bigger than your head and offering it pinched between his servos. When you don’t move to take it, he sets it down and nudges it your way while growling gibberish at you. Well. It’s pretty? At a loss, you watch him grab another and pop it in his mouth. Oh. Alien food that will do who knows what to you. Nope.

• Watching him eating, your head tips back toward your cube and to his puzzlement, you push it back his way, chirping at him. Maybe it’s too big for you? Awkwardly pinching a piece off the energon goodie, he holds it out and you back away, head shaking and chirping. “I guess you’re used to premium energon, huh?” Venting, he leaves the cube where he’d put it even though he’s hungry, hoping you’ll relent and refuel. Because if you will only take premium, he’s in trouble. Has no way to get the better grades of energon short of stealing. And you point at the screen again, chirping nonsense. Wishes he could understand you. “I bet Megatronus was amazing. Can’t believe I found his mini-con.” Or that he can’t talk to you, because you must have some amazing stories. Someone who’s been there with the Primes.

• Relaxing when it becomes apparent he’s not going to try and force feed you the glowing, possibly radioactive stuff, you lift up the console attached to your arm. Check your oxygen levels again. And pray there’s air you can breathe, because your tank was never meant for extended use. They’d said 72 hours worth, which had seemed ludicrous at the time for a recon mission that was only supposed to be long enough to take a soil sample and book it back through. And you’re not taking the helmet off until you have no choice in case there isn’t air. Because one way or the other, you’re going to find out the hard way and you want to delay until you have no choice.

• Head snapping up as the dorm lights begin automatically coming on, he snags you and carries you to his storage locker. “I have to report to the mines, but some of the other bots will turn you in if they see you,” he says when you squirm in his hand, chirping in alarm when he places you inside. Like the darkness frightens you. Had your previous owner kept you not only bound, but in the dark? Fury coils through him as he tries to calm you. “It’s just for a bit, okay? You’ll be safe here, but you have to stay quiet.” Pressing a servo to his lips, he startles when you shakily mimic him with an unhappy chirp. “Good. That’s right.” Retrieving your uneaten energon goodie, he puts it in with you and secures the locker. And feels guilty about it, but Red Alert would turn you in on sight.

• Heart racing, your head tips up. There are slots high above you that let in some light, but otherwise you’re in the dark. Aside for the brightly glowing, probably poisonous thing he’d tried to feed you. Shivering you sit down to wait, tensing when you hear thumps, voices and noises from outside your hiding place. How many of them are there? He’d hid you. Which makes you think some of those others are a threat to you. You hold your breath until the noises dies down and flip up your console display again. Watching the oxygen level steadily tick down.

Previous

Next

[besidesjustmyamour]

that's my baby, we just friends tho

pairing: neighbor!toji x reader

your upstairs neighbor makes an awful lot of noise, whether it be early morning or late night. once the sounds take over your sleep, you decide that enough is enough.

suggestive content ahead!

wc: 2.8k

a/n: first toji fic... he's kind of an asshole. he's also somehow sweet. my thoughts? both. both is good. anyways enjoy. pictures are from pinterest and dividers are by enchanthings on tumblr!!

find the rest of my works here!!

Sometimes you wonder just what goes on in your neighbor’s life. After yet another series of thumping, creaking and other assorted sounds, concern isn’t the only thing on your mind. When Toji first moved in and you knocked on his door to introduce yourself, he cocked his head to the side, a small smirk on his face, and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re straightforward, aren’t you?” he had mused. “Not many girls have the confidence to come up to me like this.”

“That—what?” Toji closed the door gently and left you there, flushed in the flurrying air. You think the only time you interacted with him after that was at the washroom down the street, collectively housing all the bathrooms and showers for the entire complex.

But these sounds have been a repeating occurrence. And you felt pity for him. He was rarely home, you knew that from the sounds. His car would pull up once every two weeks, you would hear the noises, but they eventually stopped. And the door opens and someone walks out, probably Toji leaving again.

Safe to say, you didn’t bother yourself with his personal business. You barely knew him, and what you did know you didn’t like. So you both resigned to your respective lives, shifting back to two separate corners of the world.

Any ounce of sympathy you felt towards Toji immediately disappears once the noises shift to a later time, one night, long after the sun’s lost beneath the horizon. And they’re louder. You stuff your head under your pillow, pressing down on your head until you feel dizzy, but you can’t block the sound of his voice.

It’s muffled and you can’t hear what he’s saying, but someone’s responding. If he’s going to have a conversation when everyone’s sleeping, he could at least have the courtesy of being quiet.

Wanting to spare everyone’s comfort, you tug the blanket tight around you and waddle over to his room. The golden number glints mischievously at you, as if amused that you’re standing outside Toji’s door, knocking vigorously, wondering when the hell it’ll open-

A slow creak signals the room door opening, and you open your mouth, still half asleep and wanting to get back to the warmth of your bed. 

“Man, if you’re going to yap this loud, take your conversation to a bar,” you grumble, dragging your eyes up from Toji’s bare feet. You expect him to be dressed in a loose t-shirt and baggy jeans, like always.

Not that you watch him. You just know this from the rare instances you see him.

But it’s different this time. And with rapid clarity, you realize that your concern was misguided. Toji stands in front of you, breath coming in soft pants, no shirt, no pants, and you suppose you should thank those above you for the fact he’s at least wearing boxers, but that doesn’t conceal anything.

Your hand flies to your eyes, automatically. You hear Toji let out a raspy chuckle before asking, “Need something, sweet pea?”

“Uh, well, keep it down!” you say exasperatedly, taking a step back and pressing your fingers harder against your face. “I can’t sleep!”

“Why’re you listening to us?” he replies calmly, a lazy smile audible in his voice. “You want in?”

“Ew!” You shake your head, turning away to face the railing, removing your hand and blinking rapidly. “All this time, I thought you were like… building something!”

“You were thinking about me?”

Does the air around you feel colder? September’s a mild month, isn’t it? You long for warmth, for the feeling of arms tangled around you, wet lips whispering sweet praise in your ears. 

Right. Anyways. Is that what you heard? What you mistook for arguing?

“Yes,” you admit, hoping you don’t sound apologetic, because that’s the last thing he needs; something to fuel his ego, sharpening your words. “I was worried.”

A dry chuckle. “I’m flattered, but you don’t needa worry about me, doll. I’m jus’ fine.”

His words are slurred and strung together but you can’t smell any alcohol on his breath. Why are you standing so close to him? You take a step backwards.

“I can see that,” you say flatly. “I’ll get going now.”

“I think you should,” he says, voice strained as if he’s looking over his shoulder. You struggle to hear the background of his apartment, shadowed by the occasional car racing past, but you can hear the whines of another woman.

Without another word, you turn and march double time to your apartment. The door opens without protest. You wish it did, wish it willed you to turn around.

When you’re huddled in your bed, you catch the way everything seems a bit duller, a bit lonelier, as if you’re missing something you didn’t know you were missing.

The shower hums as you toss your head back, lathering shampoo in your hands. You know that it probably isn’t healthy to wash your hair three times in a single week, but this morning you woke up and ran a hand over your scalp and immediately recoiled.

Steaming water stings your eyes, so you can’t see who’s walking inside as the door clicks open. You pray it’s someone with a good brand of conditioner, because you forgot yours back at the apartment.

Cheap rent comes with its drawbacks, you knew that when you scouted this place out. But you took the room anyway, desperate, and so far, after three months, the bathroom situation wasn’t too bad. For the most part. Most of the guys respected the stalls, keeping their eyes down, only exchanging pleasantries.

Faintly, you register that this shouldn’t really be legal, but since you haven’t had any problems, you suppose that this would suffice for another few weeks, just until you moved back in with your old roommates.

You scrub your eyes, then blink hard, stepping out of the range of the water. The stalls only come up to half your face and reach down to the ground, which you thought wasn’t too bad compared to other washrooms in the area.

“Hey, would you happen to have conditioner?” you ask while keeping your eyes ahead, wanting to be courteous of their privacy.

“Why?” The voice that responds isn’t one you want to hear. Immediately, involuntarily, you snap your head towards Toji, hair whipping to the other side, all thoughts of respect out of the window.

“Why do you think, genius?” you retort sarcastically. “I’m going to drink it, obviously.”

“Knock yourself out,” he replies with a soft chuckle, eyes cutting sideways to look at you. They dip down before he winks, handing you the bottle.

Despite the heat of the water, you flush, praying you can just play it off as the water being too hot. You rub some of the easily foaming conditioner into your roots, running your fingers through the slick strands, the sickly sweet floral scent overwhelming your senses.

You’re just finishing a prayer that he doesn’t start any small talk when he says, “You know, when you showed up yesterday, I didn’t expect it to be you.”

You don’t respond, hoping he takes it as a sign you don’t want to continue the conversation, but he assumes the exact opposite and continues.

“My girlfriend wouldn’t stop asking me questions about you. She thought I was cheating on her.” He lets out a sigh, one far too troubled for his character. “She broke up with me this morning. Hear any of that?”

“Nope,” you respond triumphantly, but quickly realize it’s the wrong tone for the subject at his dejected, frustrated expression.

“And you know what’s bothering me?” he asks quietly, voice hard to hear over the steady streams of water dripping from both your bodies to the slightly moldy tiles.

“Mhm?” You think, through the haze of steam slowly clouding your thoughts, that the least you can do for this poor, heartbroken boy, is to at least listen to him.

“What she said… she’s right,” he says, turning his head so your gazes lock. His eyes are cloudy, the most dreamy ivy-green you’ve ever seen, like a forest after a rainstorm. You wonder if you stare hard enough, you can see flowers reflected in them. “She wasn’t the right one.”

“And who is?” you say, slightly amused, because now his eyes have shifted to deep pools of regret and determination, and the slant of his ivory hair across his forehead, strands blooming across his cheeks, rosy and full, gracing the corner of his too-quick mouth.

“You are.” His eyes don’t leave yours, rendering you breathless. “God, I can’t believe it took me this long to realize that. It took her to realize I want you.”

“That sounds extremely creepy,” is your first reaction. What else can you say? 

It’s not you don’t see what he’s saying, you understand fully, and it’s not like you didn’t think about him, especially when you saw him working out at the same gym you went too, and his shirt had ridden up, exposing smooth skin that kept your eyes on him, trailing down until you realized exactly where you were and what you were doing.

Safe to say, you haven’t been back to the gym since that day.

“I know,” is all he says back, huffing a sigh. It doesn’t sound quite like relief, but it doesn’t sound like disappointment either. More like hope, hope that you might feel the same way.

“How do I know you’re not kidding?”

Toji arches an eyebrow. “You need… proof?” 

You mirror his movement. “You’re confessing to me in the washroom?”

He scoffs. “Oh, is that your problem?”

“Expected a little more romance,” you reply.

“What, fuck you on a bed of rose petals?” he jests. “Crazy woman.”

“They sure are if my standards are you,” you seethe. “Honestly, you’re such a dick, I don’t know why I even bother.”

“I can be nice,” he insists. “If you deserve it.”

“What have I ever done not to deserve it?” 

“Good question.” Toji goes quiet after that, and you finish rinsing out the conditioner, having let it lay on your back for a few minutes while you wash the rest of your body. Satisfied, you wrap yourself in a tower and gingerly tap the floor in front of you with your toe.

“What are you doing?” he queries, snickering as you yelp when your foot slides away from you. You regain your composure and cross your arms.

“I don’t want a concussion,” you explain, gesturing to the slippery floor. “The last thing I need is medical attention.”

Toji lets out a fragmented laugh. “Alright then, princess.” He holds out a hand, fingers curling around yours as you accept the help gratefully, stepping over to the bench.

You note his eyes don’t leave you as you unlock the small lockers that were offered to hold your belongings. He stands besides you, seemingly fumbling with the key to his own. 

“Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face and he startles, coming back to reality. You tug on a loose t-shirt, some underwear and a pair of snug shorts. You unravel the towel around you, feeling the loss of friction against your skin.

Do you miss it? Yes.

But it doesn’t feel quite as empty when you know that Toji’s eyes are drinking up every part of your exposed body. Every time you pack for a shower, you never bring a bra because what’s the point? You never wore one around the apartment anyways, and you never encountered anyone on the short walk across the road.

Even if you did, you could just slouch forward and blow out your shirt. Nonchalant was not a very good word to describe you, and you knew that. Maybe some part of you enjoyed slamming the locker door in his face, watching as his eyes trail downward.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you better believe you don’t miss that. The rush of power is intoxicating, the feeling of knowing that he wants you and he can’t have you unless you want him to.

And he probably knows this, but you so want him to.

“Should’ve come in that day,” Toji whispers, breath fanning across your cheek. “I would've kicked her out.”

Your response is delayed as Toji's mouth finds the pulse point on your neck, talented enough to grace only his teeth over it. “You didn't even know me.”

“We aren’t strangers,” he murmurs.

“We’re not friends, either.”

“That’s right,” he replies, a grin you've ever seen usurping his glorious, beaming face. “You’ll be my girl, now.”

“When did that happen?” You chuckle, voice hoarse as his fingers trail up, up, up to caress the side of your face.

Toji raises an eyebrow. “Right now.”

“When did I agree to that?”

Toji's hips stutter, as if moving in response to your words. You don't miss the slight tremor in his voice, but his face is set in grim lines of determination as his hips snap forward, all thoughts of even doubting him gone at his touch.

“When you let me do this to you.”

The morning after, Toji shifts away from you, and you lose the warmth you so desperately longed for. You think he's going to kick you out, leave you back where you started, with soft, shy glances and flirty looks.

But looking past the raven blinds that frame his face, still wet, plastered to his full, rosy cheeks and into the open windows that are his eyes, you don't see a rainbow anymore.

You see guilt, deep and true and pooling in the center of his wide, inky eyes. He takes a deep breath, exhaling as if to steady his voice.

“Am I a bad person?” he whispers, half to himself. “For missing her?”

Missing her? “Did you just use me to get over your girlfriend?” You put it blankly, because the hurt hasn't set in yet, so you tilt your head to the side, knowing that if this is how it ends, you won't be the one begging.

“I didn't… no,” he mutters, shaking his head, sounding more confused than before. “I couldn't stop-”

“Thinking about her?” You scoff. “Seriously? You're seriously going to sit here and tell me that you were thinking about her this whole time?”

“Fuck, no!” His fingers twist in his hair, clamping the strands together tightly. “It was only you. I saw nothing but you, god, you're so pretty it hurts.”

“Hurts how, Toji?” you ask, hushed.

“Goddamn it! You know what I mean!”

“No, I fucking don’t! What I’m hearing is that I’m sitting in your bed while you’re thinking of another girl!” you seethe.

Toji sinks back into the bed, scrubbing his face with his hands.

“I’m a serious mess,” he mutters. “I don’t deserve you.”

And just like that, in one great mercurial swing, you’re not mad anymore.

“Look. I get it.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“I’ll be here. For you. More than… whatever this is,” you manage, gesturing helplessly to the distance between you two. You see the glimmer of a smile flash across his face.

Just when you get comfortable, head resting in the crook of his neck, the redundant sound of knocking elicits a frustrated groan from Toji as he lazily pulls on a shirt and tugs his shorts on, leaving them hanging low around his hips.

You watch him walk to the door, admiring the man you can now call yours, realizing that the irritation you felt wasn’t really irritation, just jealousy. 

When he walks back after a few minutes, he peers at a piece of paper, squinting his eyes as if he can’t believe what he’s reading. He lets out an exasperated sigh and throws the paper onto his desk, sliding back into bed with you.

“Who was it?” you ask, curious.

“The landlord,” he replies vaguely.

“You forget to pay rent or something?” You giggle.

He sighs again. “You won’t believe it.”

“What?”

“The neighbors filed a noise complaint.”

“For… last night?”

You stare at him for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. Toji, on the other hand, is mostly unamused, but the sight of you lying bare in his bed, in his apartment, face alight with happiness, he can't smother a smile of his own.

“That is absolutely insane,’” you wheeze, nearly choking, calming down before snickering, tears dripping from your eyes. “It wasn’t even music. I might cry.”

So with that, he shrugs, shifting to wipe at your cheeks.

“You still haven’t answered me,” he says.

“Did you ask a question?”

Toji pauses. “No. Will you be my girlfriend?”

“How about we take it a little slower than that?” you muse.

“I just fucked you raw—”

Rapping on the door interrupts him. You’ve never been more thankful for whoever is standing behind the door and promise to send them a $50 Amazon gift card. Toji huffs and trudges back to the front, swinging the door open.

A man with side-swept hair and narrowed eyes greets him. Toji addresses him as Shiu and you put a face to the name just as the man peers past his shoulder.

“Who is that?” he asks, loud enough for you to hear.

Toji winks back at you. “That’s my baby, but we’re just friends.”

a/n: AHHHHHHH unpopular opinion but megumi >> toji "why write a toji fics then" because i have a crippling addiction to hot dilfs and also megumi is just a baby to me.

likes and comments always appreciated!!

[judesprincess]

Can you write a Jude one where it includes angst to fluff then to smut loool where reader feels insecure of her chest as she has big 🍒 and Jude comforts her and reassures her and then it ends with smut please x

your request is my command, my dear. i ask you to please be patient because this is my first smut and I clearly don't have a knack for it yet; I also don't know if the request is the way you want it (let me know if you like it or not). remember that English is not my native language so there will definitely be grammatical and spelling mistakes, please ignore. happy reading, kisses 💋

warnings: insecurity (self-deprecation), dirty talk, unprotected sex – p in v (please, be safe), creampie

word count: 2878

Having big breasts may be a dream for many girls, but it definitely wasn't yours. You frowned as you looked at yourself in the mirror, wearing only your underwear, your breasts were free and exposed to the judging eyes. You hated them. You simply hated how flashy and heavy they were. You hated how they weren't as perky as you wanted them to be, and most of all, how vulgar you looked with any basic cleavage. In short, everything about them bothered you.

Of course, you were too insecure to talk to anyone about it, so you just kept that insecurity to yourself. Even so, you did your best to make sure no one saw your breasts; especially Jude. You knew it wasn't fair to him, since he'd always been the type of boyfriend who complimented you and put you up all the time, but you just couldn't help it. Since the beginning of your relationship, it was the same thing; you almost never let him touch or fully see your breasts. Suck them? Well, that was practically out of the question, there were rare times when you lost control and ended up letting Jude put his mouth on your nipples.

Jude, being the attentive and understanding boyfriend that he was, never brought up the subject or pressured you into doing anything that you weren't comfortable with. Besides, you were sure that he had no idea about your insecurity and had simply concluded that you didn't enjoy having your breasts fondled or sucked. You couldn't have been more wrong.

Jude had always been an observant boy and, of course, this only became even more pronounced after he became a man. Besides, the fact that it was you made him even more attentive and detailed. So, he was extremely quick to notice that you felt uncomfortable with your breasts, never wanting them to be seen or touched by him. You didn't hide it very well when you asked to have sex in dim light or when you asked him not to take off your shirt or, especially, when you quickly removed his hands from your breasts. Jude never pressured you about it. He wanted it to come from you to have that conversation. But it never came. He would be lying if he said he wasn't crazy to explore your tits the way he wanted, but he knew he had to be patient.

Your look of contempt grew stronger as you continued to stare at yourself in the large mirror. Your mind was buzzing with self-degrading thoughts. You wondered what Jude thought of them and you could swear he found them as ugly as you. That made everything worse.

You were so wrapped up in that negative and heavy fog that you didn't even hear Jude's footsteps getting closer and closer to the room. Not even the noise of the doorknob made you snap out of your daze, which was unusual for you, never being careless enough for someone to see you like that. So exposed.

You don't even know very well how or when you felt Jude's presence in the room, but you know very well what the feeling of realization was. Panic invaded every part of you when you saw, through the mirror, the tall and static figure a few meters away from you.  Your arms automatically moved to cover your breasts while the rest of your body moved to look for a towel or anything to hide that part you hated so much from your boyfriend's gaze.

— Honey... — Your ears barely registered the gentle tone as you continued to run from one side to the other, trying to find something useful to cover yourself. You could already feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, threatening to leak abundantly. — Y/N, please stop this. — Jude watched the scene with sadness. Seeing you desperate to hide your body from his eyes hurt him and he knew that this could not continue any longer. You needed to talk about this right now.

— J-Jude, get out of here. — You hated yourself the moment your voice came out broken and weak. The atmosphere became more and more tense. You turned your back as soon as you saw Jude approaching you. — Jude...

— Honey, don't push me away, please. — His voice was pleading and gentle.  His strong arms wrapped around her waist as he leaned down to place comforting kisses on her shoulder. — We need to talk about this, love.

— About what? — Your voice was shaky and you didn’t know if it was because of the kisses or the realization that Jude now knows you’re insecure. Your heart beats fast, making your breath pant.

— You know what, my love. — Now Jude’s tone, even if still gentle, is firm. You stay quiet, not even considering starting the conversation. — Since when do you feel insecure about your breasts, Y/N? — You definitely didn’t see it coming – which was naive, since you knew very well how straightforward and honest your boyfriend was about everything – and your breathing hitched.

The silence in the room was dense and awkward. Jude could feel how tense you were, but he definitely wasn’t giving up on this conversation. Not after the desperate way you reacted when you noticed him in the room, minutes ago.  He gave you time as he caressed your waist — avoiding getting too close to your breasts, which were still covered by the small towel — and lovingly kissed your shoulder and neck.

— I don’t know. — You whispered, after what seemed like hours of silence. Jude continued with the caresses, letting you feel free to say whatever you wanted. He knew that if he pressed you too much, you would panic and start crying. — I, — You stopped talking, trying to control the amount of words that threatened to come out of your mouth; the task became increasingly difficult with Jude touching you like that, transmitting so much trust and security to you. Now his large hands caressed your arms tenderly. — I just started to notice how different they were. Big and flashy. The girls around me had delicate breasts while mine are too big and look exaggerated with practically everything I wear. I don’t like the shape of them. — You said everything quickly, but Jude didn’t let a single word escape, while vehemently disagreeing with you in silence. — I feel dirty. — You whispered as if it were a secret. Because it was, in fact. You never said it out loud. Silence returned to the room as you waited for Jude to agree with you about everything you had said.

When nothing came, you gathered your courage and turned your head to look at him and were startled by what you saw. His face was tinged with indignation, but not only that. He looked offended, as if you had insulted him. You had never seen that expression on his face in your entire relationship and it made you desperate, making you try to get out of his grip. He didn't let you, pulling you even closer to his body.

— I just can't believe you said that, Y/N. — His tone was firm and as offended as his expression. You shivered. He was quick to turn you around, making you face each other. You couldn't look at him, feeling too embarrassed to do so. — Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you talking about yourself like that?

Your mouth opened and closed several times, unable to answer the question. He had definitely taken it personally and you didn't know how to deal with it. You watched quietly as he ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily, as if trying to reorganize his thoughts.

— Baby. — His tone returned to its previous gentleness. — I'm so sorry you feel that way. I don't even know how to react to this because honestly, your insecurity isn't even plausible. — His hand grabbed your chin, making you stare into his piercing gaze. — I really intended to sit down and talk to you, — he pulled you closer, grabbing you by the waist again; this time firmly. You felt your skin crawl at the way he grabbed you. — But hearing you talk such nonsense about those beautiful breasts shows me that maybe I need to be a little more incisive. — You choked on the words, your body shivering as he pulled you in front of the mirror. Then you understood what he wanted.  — Take off the towel and show me those tits.

— W-What? — You couldn't even think about Jude's authoritative tone. Suddenly the atmosphere in the room was heavy in a different way. A way that made your cheeks heat up and your legs go weak.

— Be a good girl and show me those beautiful tits, darling. — Jude's hoarse voice and predatory expression reflected in the mirror left no room for argument. As if to reinforce the request — no, that was an order — a strong and loud slap was left on your ass, making you scream, both from the surprise of the act and from the strong pain that settled in the affected area.

Being the good girl and with trembling hands, you let the towel fall, revealing your large breasts. Your immediate reaction was to close your eyes so as not to look at them. It didn't last long.

— Open your eyes, love. — You obeyed, as if it were automatic. — You know what I think, Y/N?  — Jude’s gaze couldn’t be described as anything other than predatory and hungry. Your insides twisted at the thought of him devouring you.

— Hm?

— I think you should get a good spanking for referring to them so disrespectfully. — The sound of another loud slap filled the room. This time, you bit your lip as your ass burned. — You must be blind not to see how beautiful and sensual those breasts are, darling.

— Jude… — You moaned as his large hands grabbed your breasts, twisting your nipples between his fingers. Your entire body was hot and you could feel your pussy completely soaked.

— You have no idea the things I want to do to them, love. — You didn’t even know how sensitive your nipples were, the intense sensation surprised you. — You have no idea how much I think about sucking and fucking them.  — He whispered hoarsely in your ear as he pressed his erection into your back. You gasped when you felt his big bulge so hard against you. — Watch what your pretty tits do to me, love. — He moans deliciously as he rubs himself with more pressure on you. — And I haven't even put them in my mouth yet. — That was too much for you, but you needed so much more.

— Please… — You begged as you rubbed yourself against him back, whimpering as you felt your pussy throb. — Jude, please…

— What do you want, hottie? —

— Suck my tits, Jude. — You begged as if you depended on it to live and you didn't even have time to think about anything else when, with record speed, Jude threw you on the bed and got on top of you.

When you felt Jude's hot, wet tongue circling your sensitive nipple, it was inevitable to wonder how you survived without it for so long. He sucked you hungrily, while he caressed your other breast deliciously. Jude had turned you into a mess of moans and lamentations.

— I'll fuck them with my cock next time... — You whimpered when he pulled away, feeling how sensitive your nipples were now. The idea of ​​having Jude's cock in your tits made you even hotter; but right now, all you needed was his cock inside you, stretching you beyond your limit. — But right now I need to fuck this beautiful little pussy, love.  — He was quick to remove your soaked panties, leaving you completely naked and exposed to his hungry gaze.

You felt your mouth water as he took off his own clothes, revealing more and more of his strong, muscular body.

— Take off your underwear now, babe. Please. — He laughed at your impatience as he got rid of the last piece, revealing his big, thick cock. The tip was wet with pre-cum. Your hole was so empty without him inside you.

— I’m going to get you ready. — He ran his fingers through your soaked folds, but you didn’t want that.

— No. Just stick that cock in me, Jude. — You demanded as you spread your legs wider for him. As much as you loved having his long fingers inside you, you didn’t know if you could survive this long without him inside you.

— What a needy little slut I have here, huh? — You moaned in agreement and tightened your grip on his strong arms as you felt him rub the blunt tip of his cock against your pussy. — So wet for me... Do you want my cock that much, princess?

— Jude, please... fuck me. — You knew you looked like a slut desperate for cock like that, but you didn't even care, since that's exactly what you were at the moment. That man had a power over your body that no one else ever had.

— Fuck. You're so tight, baby. — He groaned as he slowly thrust himself inside you.

You closed your eyes and bit your lip, feeling the familiar pain as he thrust himself all the way inside your pussy. No matter how many times you had been fucked by him, you would never get used to his size or his thickness, always struggling to take him. But you would be lying if you said you didn't love the feeling of being completely stretched and filled with his cock.

— You're doing so good, baby. Taking that cock so good. — He groaned as he left kisses all over your face. You gripped him even tighter when you felt him pull out and enter you deeply.

— Baby... — You moaned loudly as his thrusts got faster, Jude setting a delicious pace. You felt completely full, your walls clenching tightly to keep him inside forever. You cried out when he hit your G-spot, making your eyes roll back to the back of your head.

— Oh my God, baby, baby, right there! — You moved your hips, trying to keep up with his movements. The room was filled with the dirty sounds of your skin colliding, making you even more excited. Jude moaned hoarsely in your ear and his grip on your waist got tighter and tighter. You bit your lip as you imagined the purple bruises that would be left the next day. You rolled your eyes when you felt his cock kiss your cervix. — Baby, you feel so big...

— Yeah? Can you feel me here, baby? — He growled as he pressed his large palm against your belly. You threw your head back, gripping the sheets as you felt your pussy tighten even more around his cock. You knew you were close, and by the way Jude’s thrusts became even deeper and harder, he was too. — Come on, baby, cum on my cock like a good girl. — He thrust hard, abusing your sensitive spot without mercy. You cried out as you came, your body shaking all over.

Jude’s cock swelled inside you as he watched the scene, still thrusting his hips in and out of you, chasing his own climax now.

— Baby, I want to cum inside you. — He whispered breathlessly as his thrusts became even sloppier.

— It’s yours, baby, do it. — The words came out incoherently, you already feeling overstimulated from the penetration. Two more thrusts and Jude was cumming in large quantities inside you, his thick, hot liquid filling you to the point of leaking out. You moaned softly as you felt your pussy give its final contractions.  — Baby... — Now it felt too much to have him inside you, leaving you overwhelmed. Jude was quick to get the message, slowly and carefully pulling out of you.

— You were so good to me, baby. — You smiled tiredly, feeling your pussy empty and aching as his cum leaked out. Still, you couldn't help but smile, feeling completely satisfied. — Are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you?

— It was perfect, Jude. It feels so good. — He smiled smugly as he stared at your pussy. You blushed at how naughty he looked.

— Look at this pretty little pussy, all fucked and filled with my cum. — You moaned as he ran his thumb over your sensitive pussy, spreading his liquid all over your pussy.

— Jude! — You screamed embarrassed.

— Let's get you cleaned up, love. Besides, I hope you never hide these pretty tits from me again, understand? — He leaned in, leaving a loving kiss on your lips. You were quick to nod, feeling completely comfortable being naked in front of him.

— Jude, I love you. — You looked at him shyly. — Thank you for always making me feel wanted and loved.

— Honey, you are the most beautiful woman in the world and I will always be here to remind you of that. — His words filled your heart, making your eyes water with tears of joy. — I love you more than anything, Y/N. — You felt every insecurity and silly fear leave your body because you knew he would always be there for you, no matter what.

well, i hope you liked it! I'm open to requests, I just ask that you be patient with the delay. kisses 💋

[freshxsturniolo]

but, why? PART TWO. chris sturniolo x femreader!

disclaimer : i hate the fact i had to use some random male name for this story to work lmao but i didn't want this to be about another influencer / youtuber. enjoy!!!!!

they had been waiting for you, like a damn interrogation, when you arrived at their house. you had your own key, of course, and you announced your arrival as you slipped off your shoes at the bottom of the stairs. no sound rang out but you didn't think anything of it, the noise of the tv above you loud enough for you to know they were probably scattered around the middle floor of their house. you turned to walk up the stairs, and an eye roll came so easy as you saw the three of them. sat together on the couch, arms crossed together, looking at you intensely.

"you're all so fucking annoying." you muttered under your breath, but with every intention for them to hear.

nick broke character first, laughing as he lunged off the couch and walked over to you, taking the slurpee tray from your hand and placing it on the coffee table before turning and giving you a hug. his familiar smell, always smelling like he had just got out the shower, comforting you immediately. you couldn't help but let out a smile as you squeezed your best friend.

when you finally removed yourself from the embrace, matt was standing closely behind, waiting to give you a hug too.

"you didn't text me back" he mumbled into your hair, and you laughed as you patted his back lightly.

"sorry, bernard. im here now" you said into his chest. he chuckled as he let go of you.

"i need to use the bathroom, don't start the story telling without me" he said with a cheeky grin. you rolled your eyes once again, going to jokingly slap his arm, but he had got away too quickly.

nick had made his way into the kitchen, the slurpee you had bought him already in his hand as he walked across to cupboard, pulling out some chips. but you eyes quickly diverted to chris, his ass firmly still on the couch, arms still folded. you stared at him for a short second before walking over to him, standing directly in front of him. his position didn't move but his eyes did, as they looked you up and down. you dipped your knees, so they hit his, before you stood back up again. one quick motion. he still didn't move. you stared at him intensely, nick now signing the words to a billie eilish song behind you both, before you shrugged and turned around. you knew not playing into chris' games was the way to get him to stop. his hands where on your waist in seconds, and you pulled down onto the space beside him where matt had just been in one swift swoop.

"CHRIS" you shouted, as he removed his hands from your waist, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

"what?" he said, like nothing had happened, and you couldn't help but laugh as you swung your arm around his waist. you stayed like that for a moment before matt reappeared.

"oh gods" he began, picking up his slurpee now along with yours and made his way over to you both. "you two are unbelievable"

you laughed, but you won't deny you noticed the way chris gave his brother a stern eye as you took the slurpee from him. you watched them both, having removed yourself from chris' chest, but before you could question it, nick finally appeared.

"okay" he said, grabbing chris' slurpee and walking over to you to you, slamming himself down on the couch next to chris, matt sitting closely behind. "tell us everything"

you groaned, automatically pushing yourself into chris' side, who's arm had not left you shoulder yet, and took a sip of your drink. when your eyes diverted back up to the three boys, they were all staring at you. matt and nick with a smirk, chris with what you could only describe as ... intrigue.

you sigh. "okay, so you know i've been going on dates with him, right?"

"no" chris answers immediately, and your eyes divert to him with a wince. of course he didn't know, neither did matt. you had only briefly confided in nick and clearly, true to his word, he hadn't uttered even an whisper to his two brothers. your eyes quickly glance in his direction, and he confirms with a shake of his head he'd kept quiet. you look away before either of his brothers notice.

"well" you say, looking at chris now. "i have. and hes super nice, okay? we've been for dinner and drinks a few times and i just have a good sense about him. this feels really different."

you could feel chris' breathing becoming harsher, but you ignore it as you look over to nick and matt, both with smiles on their faces. you can't stop the small laugh that escapes your mouth, like a little school girl.

"so, hes really not your boyfriend yet?" nick asks with a widened eye. but you smile.

"i mean, he hasn't asked me yet, but..." and you go quiet, butterflies in your stomach as you think back to just a few hours earlier. the kisses, the hand touching, the things he was saying. "he called me his girl earlier. and he's invited me out with his friends later this week." you look to matt now, almost wanting confirmation from a straight man who would actually tell you the truth. "that means something, right?"

matt smiled as his lips drew away from his slurpee straw. "i mean, none of my friends have ever met a girl i didn't seriously like."

your hear soared. but it didn't last long.

"whats this boys name?" chris said, his arm finally removing from your shoulder. your entire body feeling cold suddenly from the lack of touch. you pulled back slightly too, removing yourself from his side.

"his name is jason" you reply. you're met with an immediate scoff before chris turns away, finally taking a sip from his slurpee.

"what?!" you say firmly, and you notice the look that nick and matt give each other from the corner of your eye. you glance at them just slightly, before turning back to chris. "what?!" you say again, more firmly.

chris shrugs. he shrugs like he didn't care when you knew full well he did, and you dont know why you got your back up about it but you did.

"you know," you said, standing up from the couch and putting your slurpee down. your words were directed at chris but you could see nick and matts eyes widen. "this is exactly why i don't tell you about this type of stuff. every man i have ever spoken to you're down my neck about it. if you won't tell me what the fucking issue is, chris, don't speak to me at all."

you turned on your heel, fishing for your car keys out of your pocket within seconds, reaching the top of the stairs and practically throwing yourself down them. you could hear hushed voices from the three of them muttering to each other, but you didn't care. you wanted, for once, your best friend to be happy for you in a situation like this.

you made it to the bottom of the stairs, you'd managed to open the front door and step outside, before you heard your name being called. you stopped for just a brief second before you let out a sigh, shutting the door behind you anyway. you made your way down the drive and to your car parked out front before you heard the name again, and just a short second afterwards, just as you were about to open your car door, you felt hands on your wrist and you where being pulled into someones chest.

"im sorry" chris said, his familiar smell on his hoodie had clearly just thrown on quickly before coming outside into the evening chill. you stayed rigid, still angry, but if there was anyone you couldn't stay mad at for long it was chris. you sighed, before you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him in even closer as he rested his chin on your head. "im sorry" he said again, and you gave his back a stroke of your thumb before pulling away.

"you're really insufferable sometimes, chris" you said as you looked up at him.

"i know, im sorry." he said again.

"but why?"

he sighed, his eyes looking all over your face like he was questioning himself before speaking. you didn't let your eyes leave his once.

"just-" and he stopped. "i dont know. if you're happy im happy."

there was something inside of you that didn't believe him. part of him that wanted to ask him again, and tell him to be serious. but part of you was scared for the answer. so you didn't. you simply grabbed his hand, spun him around, and started walking back into the direction of his house, throwing yourself into a completely different topic. chris laughed immediately, but you noticed, just briefly, the was his thumbs rubbed against your hand. the way he pulled you in, just a tiny bit closer.

[mistressofstars]

A Lecture on Desire - Part II

Pairing: Kathryn Hahn x Reader

Summary: A lecture on The Price of Salt is supposed to be all about Therese and Carol, but when Professor Hahn locks eyes with you, lines blur. Slow-Burn. Non-magical AU

Word count: 1.1k

Carol looked at her. "How do you become a poet?"

"By feeling things - too much, I suppose," Therese answered conscientiously.

- Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt

Part II

The hiss of steaming milk, the sharp whir of grinders blending into a steady hum of conversation. People weave through the space with trays and bags, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the noise.

It’s your first day behind the counter, and every part of your new barista job feels like an uphill battle.

„Y/N, the line’s building! Keep it moving!” Your colleague snaps, but their words barely register. You slide a latte across the counter to a waiting customer, quickly wiping down a sticky spot before taking the next order. Your apron feels tight against your waist, and the sleeves of your shirt are damp from a botched attempt at steaming milk earlier. The heat from the machines only adds to your flustered state, making your hair stick to your temple as you try to keep up. “Next!” you call, forcing a smile.

After a chaotic morning, the café finally quiets with the lull after morning classes. You tuck a los

A scent reaches you. A faint trace of sweetness, like jasmine and earthy notes of musk and oakmoss …

You‘re about to turn right when you hear a smooth voice „Double espresso, to go dear.“

… something smoky, like tobacco or leather?

You blink, startled, as your brain catches up.

Professor Hahn stands at the counter. Her hair is open, a few strands falling loosely around her face. She wears a dark coat over a purple turtleneck, the same coat you noticed from the other day when you caught sight of her outside the library. She looks just as effortless, just as composed.

“Of course! Just a moment.” Your hands fumble slightly as you prepare the order, the movements automatic but your nerves far from steady. You can feel her watching you, every move sharp and calculating, as if she’s already figured out more about you than you’d like her to know.

„Here you go,“ your voice is steadier than you feel, but there’s a tremor beneath the words that you can’t quite mask. Kathryn takes the cup from you, her fingers brushing yours lightly, sending an unexpected jolt through you. She lets the moment linger before offering a small, knowing smile. “Rough day, honey?” There’s something playful hiding beneath her voice. She glances at the cappuccino stains on your apron before meeting your gaze again.

“I’m still getting the hang of it.” You swallow, trying to keep your composure.

“Mm. I can tell,” she says, her voice teasing.

You nod, your heart racing as she continues. “I liked your take on the reading in class,” she says, removing her glasses slowly before taking a deliberate sip of her espresso.

You open your mouth to respond, but she cuts you off „It’s a good start,” she adds, her gaze lingering on you, making your pulse quicken. You feel a heat rise in your cheeks.

Her lips curl into a knowing smile, and for a moment, the air between you seems to thicken. There’s something almost daring in her tone as she adds, “Well, anyway, you’ll get the hang of it… if you want to, that is.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with more than one meaning. You’re not sure if she’s talking about your class answers, your new job, or something else entirely.

“Well,” she says, as she prepares to leave.

„I‘ll see you in class, Miss Y/LN“, without another word, she turns and heads for the door, the bell above it jingling softly as she steps out into the cool air. The faintest trace of her scent lingers in the space, almost tangible.

Your first shift comes to an and end while wiping the counter you notice them, next to the cash register. Kathryn Hahn’s reading glasses.

…

You walk into class the next day, a bit of nervous energy humming through your veins. It’s been impossible not to think about the way Kathryn looked at you yesterday.

But now, as you settle into your seat the air feels uncomfortably charged as Kathryn walks into the lecture hall, heading straight to the front, taking her place at the podium without so much as a glance.

Your palms feel sweaty, but you try to shake it off. She starts the lecture, as usual, moving into a discussion of The Price of Salt. When you raise your hand and contribute your thoughts.

“I don’t think you’re interpreting it the way it was meant,” she responds curtly. The dismissal is subtle, but it stings just the same. She doesn’t look at you directly, her eyes scanning over the class instead and continues the discussion with someone else, leaving your point hanging in the air.

The rest of the class is uncomfortable, and when it ends, you’re still reeling. You leave the room quickly, trying to shake off the cold feeling in your chest, but as you gather your things, you realise - the glasses. They’re still in your bag, you had meant to return them to her personally today.

You know you should return them, but the thought of facing her now unsettles you, so you decide bring them to her office. The department building is almost empty and you slip into a side corridor near the staircase. Standing outside her office, the glasses feel heavy in your hand.

After a moment of hesitation, you make a quick decision. Instead of knocking, you approach the department assistant, handing her the glasses.

“Excuse me,” you say, “I believe Professor Hahn left these in the lecture hall“, your voice steady but your stomach fluttering. „Could you make sure she gets them back?”.

You get back to your apartment later that evening, feeling the weight of the day settle into your bones. You let the silence of the space swallow you whole, the hum of the city outside muted behind your windows.

Your mind keeps drifting so you you decide to do some reading for class.

The ping of an email snaps you out of your thoughts, and you glance at the open e-mail tab: Kathryn Hahn.

Your eyes widen and your heart picks up a little, and you’re almost afraid to open it. Your hands hover over the mouse. You klick.

Subject: Glasses

Dear Miss Y/Ln,

I assume I must have forgotten my glasses at the café. I’m not usually so forgetful, but it seems that day was an exception. Thank you for returning them to me.

As a gesture of appreciation, I’d like to invite you to lunch this Saturday at 2 p.m. Consider it a thank you for your promptness.

Do let me know if that suits you.

Sincerely,

K. Hahn

[unintentionalseductress]

For thirsty weekend (if it isnt too late ofc course!) could you do 7 with xavier?

Hey! Glad to see Xavier getting some love.

"You're the first gift I want to unwrap on Christmas morning."

--------

The clock blinks midnight as you turn over in your sleep. Xavier is snug under the covers with you, fast asleep. You cuddle closer to him for warmth, your nose burying into his chest as you do so. The feeling of your wriggling body rouses him and he slowly blinks his eyes open, adjusting to the darkness of the room.

A contented smile forms on his face as he sees you pushed into him, your breath ghosting his neck. He puts a hand on your head, patting gently. You let out a sleepy noise then crack open one of your eyes.

"Ssh...it's ok, go back to sleep," Xavier reassures you but you can't seem to do so as the thought of it being Christmas comes into your head.

"Xavier," you whisper through the dark. "Can you believe this is our first Christmas together? We actually lasted."

Warmth fills his chest and he leans back to look at your face. "Of course I can believe it. It's no surprise we're meant to be together," he whispers back and you feel a rush of happiness swarm into your chest. Your heart swells with contentment at his words. Sighing, you snuggle closer, your feet brushing against his under the covers.

"I can't wait to see your face when we open presents," you murmur against his chest. Xavier comfortingly pats your head.

"Actually, I was thinking...maybe we can open a present now."

"Now?" You peer at him through the darkness. You were so warm and cozy and had no desire to get out of bed at this hour. Hearing your tone, Xavier smiles.

"Don't worry. The gift is right here. We don't have to go far." Xavier's hands suggestively trail under your sleepshirt and you twitch at his touch.

"Xavier?" He hums in response and brushes his nose against you.

"You're the first gift I want to unwrap on Christmas morning." He says softly before kissing your ear. His words bring forth a sigh from you, and you willingly allow him to continue his exploration.

His hands stroke and squeeze your body while his tongue explores your mouth. Your legs part automatically for him as he slips off your pajama bottoms and drags them down to your knees. Under the warmth of the sheets, his fingers dip into your moist folds, temptingly teasing, gathering slick from your core before dragging it up towards your steadily swelling clit.

You gasp as he brushes against it, the whispery little noise muffled against his lip as he sets up a rhythm of gentle pets that have you whining. Heat gathers in your belly and the blood rushes through your veins as he continues his gentle assault on your delicate clit.

You break the kiss to moan. It felt exquisite, the way he was touching you, so reverently like you were the most precious thing he'd seen. Your fingers tighten onto his clothes as you do your best to keep your legs open for him. He chuckles deeply as your whines change into wanton, breathy noises, your hips bucking as you seek your release.

The orgasm finally shoots through your system and you throw your head back onto the pillow with your eyes squeezed shut, crying out your pleasure as the waves of gratification pulse into every corner of your body. When it finally settles down, Xavier wastes no time in removing your top, and quickly shedding his own clothes.

"Looks like two presents were opened tonight," You tease as he reaches over you into the nightstand. He smirks as he rips open the condom packaging.

"I think you mean three."