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soluversworld · 22 days ago

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BACKSTAGE SECRET ! - KIER X G.N READER

This game is called backstage Infatuation! This game is so underrated. So, I will doing some one-shots, because I love the characters!!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: — Backstage, you lost your bracelet, Kethan gifted you! Don't worry, There's someone to help you!

( Reader is a g.n!)

Content Warning : Yandere themes

Did not proof read/Rushed.

You were there.

Wrapped in a too-thin coat, media pass clutched between chilled fingers, lens cap off and camera ready. The cold bit at your ankles, but you barely noticed. Not when tonight mattered so much. Not when it was LUXE’s comeback debut—and Kier’s first solo single release.

The press line was chaos: journalists elbowing for position, flashes flaring like lightning, muttered complaints fogging in the air. Everyone wanted to be the first to capture them all.

You weren’t supposed to be in this area. Technically, your badge said “general coverage.” But you’d arrived before sunrise, staked out the best possible angle, and refused to budge. If anyone asked, you were supposed to be here. This was going to be one of the biggest shows of the year… right?

You flipped through the concert pamphlet for the hundredth time, fingertips numb but careful not to crease the page.

Oriel: dignified, dazzling. Min: cool, collected. Kier…

Your eyes paused on him. His picture was radiant. Almost too perfect. Hair falling in sleek strands over sharp cheekbones. A slight smirk—arrogant, maybe—but only if you didn’t know better.

You did know better. You’d seen him before that—offstage. With no stylists, no cameras. Just Kier, buying two caramel lattes and an absurdly bitter iced americano like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You hadn’t forgotten. Actually, you'd brought a caramel latte today, too. Warm, still tucked in your coat pocket, for yourself!

Were you friends?

He did tell you to think like that.

But could a fan and an idol really be… anything real? Like friends?

He’s up there. Ethereal. Shining. Beautiful. You’re… you.

You smiled to yourself anyway, lips chapped from the wind. Sam was going to freak when you told her about this. Minji had been kind enough to let you off early from work—a miracle.

"I wonder what his single will be like?" you murmured, heart fluttering. "I can’t wait."

And just as the excitement bubbled in your chest, your stomach made a dramatic protest.

You groaned softly. “Seriously? Now?” You doubled slightly. “God… I knew I shouldn’t have let Kethan talk me into that second round of dumplings…”

You bolted for the restroom the second you found an opening—half-jogging past camera rigs and stacks of cables, muttering half-apologies to the tech crew and other reporters. Your stomach churned like a traitor. Of all the times…

You got your business done in record time, hands barely dry as you burst back into the hallway, still holding onto your press pass like it might anchor you to this timeline.

But as you rounded the corner—slam.

You collided with someone. Full force. Something clattered. You went down like a folding chair.

"Aiiyo—!" the woman beneath you yelped. A mop bucket sloshed, something wet hit your shoe, and you realized with dawning horror you had flattened the poor cleaning lady.

"Oh my god—I’m so sorry—!"

You scrambled up, brushing off your pants with shaky hands, cheeks burning.

She blinked at you from the floor, visibly unharmed, just startled. “You okay?”

“I—uh—yeah. Yeah. Totally fine,” you managed, voice tight with embarrassment.

She gave a breathy chuckle, waved you off, and walked away muttering something about “young people with ants in their pants.” You nodded dumbly, offered another apology to her retreating back, and turned to fix your jacket.

That’s when your stomach dropped again—but for a different reason this time.

Your wrist felt bare.

You looked down.

The bracelet. The bracelet.

“Shit.”

Your eyes widened. Not the bracelet you’d been wearing casually for months, not some accessory. No—the one Kethan gave you yesterday. The one he dramatically claime

You had laughed. It had fit weirdly well. You hadn’t taken it off since.

You scanned the floor in panic. Nothing.

You crouched low, heart hammering, crawling slightly as you peered beneath the mop cart, near the baseboards, under your own boots. Nothing. Not even a shimmer.

“No, no, no…” you whispered, biting your lip. You retraced your steps toward the hallway where you’d sprinted earlier, eyes darting to the corners, past spilled mop water and the distant sound of the opening act starting. No time. If you waited any longer, the concert would start and you’d lose your spot in the media pit.

But the bracelet—damn it,

"I got this for you. During I was-."

Fuck you! Y/n!

Luckily, the backstage area was quite small, and you found the janitor's closet in no time. Lost things had to be kept here, right? That was your best bet.

You reached for the doorknob. Locked.

You sighed, stepping back and scanning the hallway again. No janitor. No bracelet. You weren’t giving up just yet.

You started checking corners, crouching behind crates of lighting equipment, peeking under utility carts. You thought it would be a five-minute detour.

But half an hour passed, and you were still no closer.

Your anxiety was scraping at your throat, panic starting to edge in, when—

Knock knock.

A voice from outside. Male. Calm. Curious.

"Anyone in there?"

Your brain malfunctioned.

"Nope!"

You absolute idiot.

"I mean—WAIT—"

Too late.

The door burst open.

And someone stepped in.

"K-Kier?!"

Kier immediately held a finger to his lips. "Shush. Keep it down."

You blinked. Twice. "What are you doing here? Shouldn’t the concert be starting soon?"

He looked over his shoulder, then back at you, hair slightly mussed, eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

"I’m just... hiding," he muttered. "My assistant won’t shut up. I know he’s doing his job, but the nagging is driving me insane."

You stared at him. This was weird. Kier—The Moon Prince—just slipped backstage to... hide?

Something was off. He was talking fast. Fidgeting.

"Kier, are you okay?"

He paused. Looked away. Then back again with a gentle smile.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Yes?"

He hummed a soft tune. Low, delicate, threading through the silence between you. You didn’t recognize it, but it made your shoulders relax a little.

"Is that part of your single album?" you asked. "It’s good. Really good."

He smiled, a little lopsided. "You think so? I feel a bit better, then. I just hoped you’d really like it."

You tilted your head. "By 'you', you mean your fans?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, you said you were a fan too."

Then he stuck his tongue out at you.

You blinked. Blushed. "Oh—shit. Sorry."

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. The tension in your chest melted just a bit.

Kier glanced around the cramped closet space with a skeptical eye. “So... what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out there with the others, cheering like a proper fan?”

You laughed, a little too loud. Nervous. “I, uh... lost something. A bracelet. It was a gift.”

At that, the teasing edge in his voice dulled. “Important?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Kethan gave it to me yesterday. It’s dumb, but—”

“Not dumb,” Kier cut in, his gaze surprisingly sharp. “It matters to you. So it matters.”

Before you could even thank him, he clapped his hands once with mock drama. “Alright then. Operation Rescue Sparkly Thing is a go.”

You blinked. “That’s seriously the name we’re going with?”

He glanced at you sideways with a grin. “Don’t sass your rescuer.”

He crouched down and began scanning the dim floor under a metal shelf, muttering under his breath, “...if I were a bracelet, where would I hide? Maybe under some lost dignity…”

You crouched beside him. The space was cramped, filled with wires, old props, and dust, the air sharp with disinfectant.

“Thanks, Kier. You really don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His voice was soft this time, no teasing. Just truth. It made something squeeze warm and tight in your chest.

You both kept searching in silence, eyes scanning every shadow. At one point, Kier pointed toward the tablet you’d dropped earlier.

“You checked under that?”

You waved it off. “I did. I swear, it’s not there—”

“Humor me.”

You sighed and moved to lift the tablet. You both leaned in at the same time, reaching—and didn’t notice how close you’d gotten until—

Thump.

Your shoulders bumped, then your hands, and then—Kier’s balance tilted forward. In the most embarrassing, slow-motion moment imaginable, he fell.

Right on top of you.

You landed flat on your back with a soft “oof,” the air rushing out of your lungs. Kier didn’t hit you hard, but his weight was unmistakable, his body flush against yours.

His face was hidden in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You froze.

“I—I’m so sorry!” you blurted, trying to sit up, but his hand pressed gently against your side.

“Wait.”

That was all he said. Just wait.

So... you did.

For a heartbeat, maybe two, maybe more, he stayed there. His breath slow. His voice low, nearly a whisper.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled, the words barely making sense. “Like... caramel.”

You didn’t catch the flicker in his eyes as he slowly pushed himself up. You didn’t see the sudden heat, the way his pupils had dilated, that half-mad glint he tried to blink away too late...

You only saw the soft smile he wore when he looked down at you.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Peachy.” He stood and held out a hand. You took it.

Still no sign of the bracelet.

You both went back to searching.

Kier crouched beside you, trailing his fingers lazily over the floor, but you were the one truly focused—moving crates, lifting wires, mumbling to yourself. “Ugh, it must’ve fallen when I tripped on that mop. God, I’m such a klutz…”

He hummed. Low. Noncommittal.

“...It’s just—Kethan gave it to me, you know? My best friend since forever... He came back a few weeks ago, He gave it to me...." You laughed.

Kier froze.

You didn’t notice. Still talking. Still smiling.

“We used to build little cardboard forts after school, pretend we were superheroes.. Said he’d be ‘Magma Boy’ and melt anyone who messed with me.”

You didn’t see it—how Kier’s shoulders tensed. How his gaze dropped, no longer scanning the floor,with such intensity it might’ve burned a hole clean through.

Kethan.

He hadn’t said a word yet, and that wasn’t like him.

“Kier?” you asked, still grinning. “You okay?”

“Mm.” His voice came tight, but practiced. Still smooth. Still sweet. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He stood. A slow, precise movement.

You blinked up at him. “You sure?”

He smiled down at you. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“That bracelet,” he said softly. “It really means that much to you?”

“Of course,” you said without hesitation. “It’s from Kethan.”

Kier tilted his head, like a curious cat. His hands were in his coat pockets now. One foot slightly forward. Blocking your exit.

You didn’t notice.

Not yet.

"That nickname," he echoed, voice low. Too low. “Magma Boy.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. Dumb, right?”

“Hilarious.” The smile widened. “So… are you close?”

You blinked. “What, with Kethan? Yeah, of course. He’s my—” You were still searching..

Kier took a slow, deliberate step forward.

“He’s your what?”

“...My friend,” you said, laughing nervously. “My best friend.”

Kier nodded. Just once.

“Right.”

His voice was smooth now. Velvet over a blade. Carefully controlled. He didn’t want to scare you.

Not yet.

But inside, the thoughts spiraled.

HE tries to take you.

From him.

Even before he had you.

And still—still—you kept smiling about someone else.

He could melt people, huh?

How cute.

Kier leaned down, brushing invisible dust from your sleeve with gentle fingers. His eyes met yours—warm, blue beautiful.

And yet—

"Don’t worry," he murmured. "I’ll help you find it. I’m very good at finding things…”

His fingers lingered.

His voice dropped an octave.

“…and keeping them.”

You dusted off your knees, still crouching as you scanned the floor, and glanced through the cracked door toward the faint thrum of the crowd outside.

“Sheesh,” you muttered. “The fans are really out there in full force tonight.”

Kier shifted beside you, standing straighter as he peeked through the door too. “I’m honestly surprised this many showed up,” he murmured. “It’s windy as hell out there. Felt like my ears were gonna freeze off earlier.”

You smiled. “Well, that’s fans for you. fans especially. Rain, snow, war—they’ll still show up.”

He chuckled, soft. “I guess that’s what 'fan' means, huh? Fanatic.”

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your coat tighter. “But it doesn’t always have to mean crazy. Just… passionate.”

Kier’s expression shifted—just slightly. “I’m happy to be on stage again,” he said, voice lower now, slower.

You nodded, but caught the flicker in his eyes.

“…But?” you prompted.

“…But I hate those."

You blinked.

He didn’t elaborate immediately, so you tilted your head. “Did something happen?”

Kier’s gaze drifted toward the far wall, as if he were looking into a memory instead of the dim backstage space.

“During our first interview as LUXE,” he said slowly, “we were in this tiny studio. Three chairs. One little lamp above us. We were just rookies. I looked up, and something felt off.”

You stayed quiet, listening.

“The bulb in the lamp was tinted weird. When I looked closer, I realized it wasn’t just a bulb. There was a lens in it. A camera. Hidden. Filming us.”

You straightened a little. “I heard about that—”

“My members were answering questions, laughing, totally unaware. So I pretended to take selfies. Tilted my phone just right. Took a few shots of the lamp.”

Kier’s jaw tightened.

“That’s when Aurora Rising Records stepped in. Replaced the entire staff team. Turned out one of the production staff was actually a fan. In disguise. Pretending to work there, just to spy on us.”

You stared at him.

“That’s… awful.”

He looked back at you then.

And smiled.

But there was something quieter about it. Not fake. Just… weathered.

“I hate crazy fans,” he repeated. “But it’s not just that. The way they want to own you. Break pieces off of you. Call it love.”

You didn’t know what to say.

Until he looked at you again—and that smile shifted. Softened.

“…But you,” he said.

Your stomach fluttered. “Me?”

“You never screamed at me,” he said plainly. “Never shoved a phone in my face. Never begged me for anything.”

You flushed, mouth opening—closing.

“Every time I saw you,” he continued, “you were just… quiet. Present. Kind.”

He reached out, brushing a loose thread off your sleeve. His fingers were gentle.

“You treated me like a person,” he said. “Even though you’re a fan… you’re a real one. A gen one. The kind people forget exist.”

You blinked. “Kier, I…”

Your voice caught.

He smiled again—this time, soft and warm. Like moonlight instead of stage lights.

“Thank you,” he said. “For that.”

You looked down at the dusty floor, eyes beginning to sting.

You didn’t get it.

Why did things like this always happen?

It was just a bracelet—but it wasn’t just a bracelet. Kethan gave it to you.Who always remembered things when no one else did. He’d given it to you yesterday-

Now it was gone. Your chest hurt just thinking about it.

“…Hey.”

You looked up.

Kier was watching you, the playfulness gone now—replaced with something quieter. Something… concerned.

“I’ll let my staff know,” he said gently. “We’ll find it. I promise.”

You stared at him. The stage was probably about to start any minute. He shouldn’t even be back here.

“But the show—”

“There’s still a few minutes.” He tilted his head. “Let me help, alright? I’ll get them on it.”

Your throat closed up a little. You hated being seen like this. Teary-eyed. Small.

You didn’t know what else to do—so you reached into your coat and pulled out the warm paper cup you'd forgotten you were even holding.

The caramel latte. The one you'd bought for yourself. The one you almost wanted to give him… just in case you saw him.

You shoved it toward him with both hands.

He blinked, surprised. “...What’s this?”

You kept your face straight. “You helped me. I wanted to thank you.”

He just stared at the cup.

“There’s nothing mixed in it,” you added flatly. “Just.."

He burst out laughing—eyes crinkling, face flushing a soft pink. He took it from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly.

“...It’s my favorite drink,” he said quietly, smiling like you’d handed him something sacred.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You remembered that?”

“No,” you admitted. “But I’ll remember it now.”

He looked at you—really looked at you—and then took a long sip from the latte.

When he lowered the cup, something about him seemed looser. Warmer.

“Thanks,” he said, voice smooth. “I feel a lot better now.”

Seeing him smile, made you smile too..

Kier stared at you for a moment, then without warning, pulled you into a hug.

It wasn’t brief, either.

His arms circled around your shoulders with warmth and a kind of desperate gentleness, like you were something he was afraid to let go of. You stiffened for a second—caught off guard—but quickly melted into it.

“I feel better too,” you whispered into his chest.

You felt him exhale against the crown of your head, a little softer this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled, still a little dazed. “Thank you, Kier. Seriously.”

He only nodded, eyes unreadable. That soft smile back on his lips.

You stepped away, turning to leave before you could overthink it. The hallway echoed with your retreating steps.

Idols are human too, you thought. Not just distant, glowing stars on stage. They get tired. They get frustrated. They hide in janitor closets and complain about assistants. They drink lattes and help search for lost bracelets and… they hug.

From now on, you promised yourself, you'd treat idols better.

Not like gods. Not like dolls.

Like people.

Like him.

You disappeared around the corner.

Meanwhile, back in the cramped space of the janitor’s closet, Kier exhaled slowly.

His shoulders dropped.

Then his fingers reached into the pocket of his oversized jacket.

There it was. The bracelet.

That thing.

His expression warped—dark, twisted, flat with disdain. That cursed trinket—tacky, mismatched, with a fraying cord and an ugly little bead in the shape of a cartoon skull.

He gave you this?

His jaw clenched. His lips curled into something cruel.

He remembered how you looked while talking about Kethan—laughing softly, eyes gleaming with memory. It burned. It burned.

You were his muse. His light. His obsession. Not Kethan’s. Not anyone’s. You had no idea what you did to him—how deep you'd sunk into him. Into his skin, his veins, his voice.

Ugly. Cheap. It doesn’t suit you.

It burned him just to imagine it on your wrist. Something from him. Some other boy. Some fool who thought he could mark you with a trinket.

He could get something way more expensive or pretty....

Still staring at the bracelet, Kier crouched. Placed it on the floor like a delicate relic.

Then stood.

And drove his boot down hard.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

He hated it.

The crunch of cheap beads and snapped cord echoed like tiny bones.

He smiled, expression pitch-black and wild under the soft closet light.

“Mine,” he muttered, voice venom-laced silk.

You’re my muse. My only one. You have no choice.

I will claim you.

The broken shards glittered at his feet.

And Kier—Kier smiled again. Beautiful. Chilling.

The stage lights began to rise.

Time to put on a show. For the fans. For the world. But mostly… For you.

#backstage infatuation #backstage infatuation kier x reader #Kier x reader #Kier #yandere visual novel #yandere x reader #BackstageInfatuation_VN

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thewulf · 1 year ago

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Trust in the Tide || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request -Hello!! I loved your forever yours fic!! I was wondering if you could write another Paul Lahote fic where Bella goes to the cullens house and drags her sister Y/N along with. Paul isnt happy about this at all and gets very possessive of Y/N.

A/N: Okay this one is cheeeeeesy but really sweet :)

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Swan Sister Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

TW: Possessiveness, general twilight warnings

On an unusually warm afternoon, with the sun painting the waves in hues of amber and gold, you find yourself lounging on the sands of La Push beach. Beside you, Paul's presence is as comforting as the steady rhythm of the surf. Though known among his peers for his fierce temper and unyielding nature with you he's a different person—gentle, attentive, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

You've been together for a year now ever since the day he imprinted on you. A single moment that forever changed the course of both your lives. In this year your relationship has blossomed into a deep and passionate connection with you often playing the role of his anchor, the calm in his storm.

As you sit there watching the gulls dance above the waves Paul's hand finds yours, his fingers lacing with yours in a familiar, comforting grip. His other hand brushes away a stray lock of hair from your face tucking it gently behind your ear. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he murmurs. His voice low and warm carrying over the sound of the waves.

You nod while leaning into his side, feeling the solid strength of him. "It's perfect," you agree, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the simple joy of being here with him away from the complexities of your intertwined worlds.

Paul's gaze is fixed on the horizon, but you know his thoughts are never far from you. In these quiet, unguarded moments you see a side of him that no one else does. You see the vulnerability hidden behind the façade of the tough werewolf. It's a side he only shows to you. It makes your heart swell with a mix of affection and pride.

"Thanks for being here, you know," he says suddenly before turning to look at you with intense, sincere eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Your heart flutters at his words. A gentle reminder of the bond you share. "I'll always be here, Paul," you assure him by squeezing his hand. "No matter what."

In these moments with the salty breeze tangling your hair and the sound of Paul's steady heartbeat under your ear you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Here, with him, you are home.

But your peaceful afternoon is abruptly shattered when Bella, her brow creased with worry but with a knowing smirk on her face, approaches the two of you on the beach. The sight of her alone is enough to tighten Paul's grip around your waist. His body tensing as if bracing for a storm.

"Whenever you aren't with Charlie, you're always here," Bella comments lightly. Trying to ease the tension with a touch of humor as she nods towards the two of you entwined on the sand.

You can't help but smile even as the worry in Bella's eyes belies her playful tone. "Can you blame me?" you reply with gesturing to the serene beach and then to Paul whose presence is a comforting constant in your life.

Paul attempted to lighten the mood despite the tension. He throws a quizzical glance at Bella. "What brings the vampire girl back down to La Push?" he jokes. Trying to elicit a smile but his voice betrays a hint of his underlying concern.

Bella's expression turns serious again as she ignores Paul’s attempt at humor. "It's Alice," she begins. Her voice dropping to a more urgent whisper. "She had a vision... and it involves you, Y/N. It's not clear, but it's serious enough that we think you should come to the house and talk about it."

Instantly, Paul's embrace tightens. His protective instincts flaring up. "No," he says flatly, his voice laced with a protectiveness that borders on aggression. "She’s not going anywhere near those bloodsuckers."

You squeeze his hand trying to calm the storm you see brewing in his eyes. "Paul, if it's about me… I need to know. I need to understand what's happening," you reason. Your voice a soothing counterpoint to his growling tone.

Bella looks between the two of you, her worry deepening. "It’s not clear what it means yet, but Alice saw a conflict... something that might escalate without your intervention. We think Y/N might be a key to preventing it."

Paul’s body is rigid with conflict. The thought of you walking into what he views as the lion’s den. A place where every instinct tells him you could be in danger, is tearing him apart inside. "You don't understand, Bella. I can’t just let her walk into a potential trap," he argues with his voice strained.

You look up at him. Your heart is aching at the pain and fear etched in his features. "Paul, I need to do this. Not just for me but for all of us. If there’s even a chance that my being there could help prevent a bigger conflict, we have to take it." Your voice is firm. Carrying the weight of your resolve. "I’ll be okay. I went to school with them, remember? They'd never harm a hair on my head."

Seeing the agony in his eyes you reach up to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise Pau, I'll come home right to you. Just wait for me, okay?"

Paul's face is a mask of conflict. He’s torn between his fierce instinct to protect and his deep trust in you. "It's not you I don't trust, you know that," he says, his voice tense. "It's them. It's walking you right into their world... without me even being able to be there to protect you."

You nod understanding his fear. "Paul, I'm Bella's sister," you remind him gently by playing to his more rational side. "They've known me almost as long as they've known her. They'd never hurt me. And this could help everyone. The pack even. Your brothers and sister. It could prevent a bigger conflict. Isn't that worth it?"

He looks out towards the sea, his jaw clenching as he processes your words. "And I can't even escort you there..." he mutters with frustration lacing every word.

With pleading eyes, you look back at him. "I need you to trust me on this," you say softly. "Trust that I'll be okay."

Paul stares into your eyes searching for something that might make this easier. Finally, with a guttural sigh, his resistance crumbles. "Alright," he murmurs. His voice rough with suppressed emotion. "But I’m holding you to that promise. You come straight back to me. Please." He adds with a soft smile.

You grin while squeezing his hand tightly ever so grateful for his trust and understanding. "I will, Paul. I promise." Sensing the weight of the moment you step closer to him before wrapping your arms around his neck. You press a lingering, tender kiss to his lips. A promise of your return sealed with the sweetness of your affection.

As you pull away your eyes lock with his communicating a depth of love and reassurance. "Wait for me," you whisper. It’s a soft plea mixed with a firm promise. He agrees. His expression a mix of resolve and vulnerability. The hard lines of his face softening at your touch.

With one last look you turn and follow Bella to her truck feeling the weight of Paul's gaze on you like a protective cloak. As you climb into the passenger seat and the truck pulls away his figure remains etched against the horizon. A silent sentinel watching over the path you'll return by.

As the truck bumps along the familiar forested road leading to the Cullen house Bella steals a few glances your way her earlier worry momentarily replaced by a hint of curiosity. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable but it's filled with the unspoken acknowledgment of the distance that has grown between you two. Yet, today, as the trees blur past there’s a tentative bridge being built in those stolen glances.

“You seem really happy, Y/N,” Bella finally says. The words careful but genuine. She adjusts her grip on the steering wheel focusing on the winding road but clearly intent on your response.

Your heart swells at the mention and you can't help but nod enthusiastically. “I am, Bella. Paul... he’s been amazing,” you reply. Your voice tinged with undeniable joy. “He’s so kind to me, you know? In ways that people don’t always see.”

Bella smiles, a soft, understanding smile that reaches her eyes. “I can tell. He looks at you like... like you’re his whole world.” Her tone is reflective, possibly recalling her own complex relationships. “It’s really nice seeing you so taken care of. Makes me feel less worried about dragging you into our... mess today.”

The road smooths out as you approach the Cullen’s long driveway and you let out a small, contented sigh. “Thanks, Bella. I know it’s a lot, with everything going on. But being with Paul, it feels right. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be.” You turn to her with a bright grin spreading across your face. “And don’t worry about today. We’ll handle it just like we handle everything else.”

Bella nods, her expression mixing relief with a bit of admiration. “I’m glad, Y/N. And I’m glad he’s good to you. We all need that… someone who makes us feel like coming home.”

The conversation lulls as the imposing structure of the Cullen house comes into view with its vast windows reflecting the cloudy sky above. Today might be filled with uncertainties but your heart holds on to the warmth of the conversation, the shared smiles, and the reassurance of your sister's concern, making you feel ready for whatever lies ahead.

As you step into the cool, grand interior of the Cullen house the atmosphere is charged with a mix of anticipation and tension. The Cullen’s are all present. Their expressions ranging from curious to concerned. Alice steps forward first with her slight frame contrasting the intensity of her gaze.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," Alice says sincerely. "I know this isn't easy."

You nod feeling the weight of the situation but bolstered by the earlier conversation with Bella. "Let's just get to the bottom of this, Alice. What exactly did you see?"

Alice describes her vision in greater detail explaining that it involved a confrontation that could escalate tensions not just within Forks but potentially with other vampire groups. Your presence, she suggests, might symbolize a commitment to peace that could soothe rising fears.

Edward, ever the voice of reason, interjects thoughtfully. "I’ve given this some thought. Perhaps there's a way to communicate our intentions without requiring Y/N to be directly involved. We could send a message through Carlisle to the other leaders, clarifying our stance and our commitment to peace. Getting the pack involved this early seems… unwise." His soft smile towards you is comforting and you give him a quick nod back agreeing with his stance.

Jasper, who has been quietly assessing the mood, adds, "And I can reach out to my old contacts. They trust my judgment. If I explain the situation and our peaceful intentions it might help calm any unrest."

You listen to each suggestion feeling a sense of relief that there might be solutions that don't require you to be more involved than necessary. "Both sound like good plans," you agree. "My being here today is a show of good faith and hopefully that's enough. Showing that we're united in wanting peace might be the strongest message we can send."

Carlisle nods in agreement. His expression one of gentle authority. "I think that's wise. We appreciate your willingness to help, Y/N, and your insight has been invaluable. But let's minimize risk where we can."

Esme with her nurturing demeanor smiles warmly at you. "And we're here to support you not to make demands. Let's proceed with those ideas and keep communication open. Should we need you we know how to get ahold of you." She gestures to your sister who was looking more and more relieved.

As the meeting begins to wind down and everyone seems to agree on the proactive steps to take, Emmett can't resist lightening the mood. He leans slightly closer to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and pretends to sniff the air dramatically. "Y/N, you know I love you, but you kind of stink like wet dog today," he says with a broad grin, clearly teasing.

You can't help but laugh, shaking your head at his typical goofiness. "Emmett, you really never change, do you?" you reply. The laughter making your words light and easy.

Rosalie who was standing beside him rolls her eyes affectionately at her husband's antics but smiles at the exchange. It's clear they all value the levity Emmett brings, especially in tense situations.

"Hey, I'm just saying, maybe a little vampire sparkle wouldn't hurt," Emmett chuckles, winking at you.

As you leave the Cullen house, chuckling over Emmett's playful banter, you feel a genuine warmth from the exchange. It's moments like these in the middle of the gravity of supernatural politics that remind you of the strange yet comforting friendship you've found with the Cullen’s. They might be vampires, but their familial bonds and moments of humor aren't so different from what you find at home with Paul and the pack.

As Bella's truck pulls up to the familiar surroundings of La Push you can already see Paul waiting by the road, his posture tense with anticipation. The moment the truck stops he's at the door pulling it open with a haste that speaks volumes of his anxiety and relief.

"You're back," Paul breathes out. His voice thick with emotion as he helps you out of the truck. His hands are gentle but firm, as if he needs to physically feel that you're safe and sound.

"I'm back, just like I promised," you reassure him by reaching up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble and the warmth of his skin. His eyes search yours looking for any sign of distress instead relaxing when he sees your calm demeanor.

Before you can fully turn to Paul you remember Bella, still seated in the driver’s seat, watching the exchange with a small smile. "Thanks, Bella. For everything today," you speak while giving her a grateful look.

Bella nods, her eyes softening. "Of course. Take care, you two," she replies. Her voice carrying a hint of relief at seeing you safe and sound with Paul.

Paul who was not one to hold grudges where your safety is involved, nods at Bella. "Thanks for looking out for her," he adds. His tone sincere despite the underlying tension of the day.

With a final wave Bella starts the truck again before pulling away from the curb as you turn back to Paul. His arms are already open, ready to pull you into a secure embrace. "I was worried, you know," he admits once Bella's truck has disappeared from sight, his voice low, almost a whisper against the breeze. "Every minute felt like an hour. But I trust you. I should have remembered that you can handle anything."

You smile softly as you were touched by his concern and his admission. "I know you were worried, and I love you for it," you say while pulling him close for a hug. "But I also knew everything would be okay. We had to make sure of that."

Paul nods, his expression softening as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. "I'm sorry for doubting. It's just hard when I think about anything happening to you."

"Nothing happened, Paul. And I had to go today to keep it that way," you explain, hoping he understands the importance of your actions today. Not just for yourself but for the peace it might ensure.

Paul takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling under your hands. "I get it now. I do. And I'm proud of you, Y/N. Really proud." His words are sincere and filled with a new respect for your judgment and your strength.

The two of you stand there for a moment, just holding each other, the sound of the waves in the background a soothing soundtrack to your reunion. Paul's hold tightens briefly as if reaffirming his promise to always be there for you.

"Why don't we just sit here for a while?" Paul suggests, gesturing towards the beach. "Enjoy the quiet and each other's company. No rush, just us." You grin, grateful for the peaceful end to an eventful day. Settling back onto the sand you lean against him feeling truly at home in his embrace. As the sun begins to set it painted the sky in fiery hues. You savor the moment of calm, the simple joy of being together.

As the evening air grows cooler and a gentle shiver passes through you Paul notices immediately. With a concerned furrow of his brow, he shifts closer, his arms reaching out to you. "Hey, come here," he says softly while pulling you gently towards him. Before you know it you're settled comfortably in his lap. His warmth enveloping you like a protective cloak.

Wrapped in his embrace you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of safety and love. Paul's hands rub your arms gently, generating warmth, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "Better?" he asks. His voice a soothing rumble in his chest.

"Much," you reply leaning back against him, feeling his heartbeat steady and reassuring against your back. The sound of the waves, the starlit sky, and Paul's presence combine into a perfect ever peaceful moment.

Paul kisses the top of your head gently. An affirmation of his feelings. "I love you. You know that?" he murmurs into your hair. His voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "Not just for being so strong today, but for every day. For being you."

Your heart feels full. His words lifting you even further into a state of bliss. "I love you too, Paul. So much," you whisper back, turning slightly to catch his eye. The look he gives you is filled with adoration and a promise of infinite tomorrows.

As the evening chill sets in and you snuggle deeper into Paul's embrace his heart swells with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. Under the vast, starlit sky, as he feels your steady breathing against him Paul's thoughts drift towards the future. A future he envisions vividly with you by his side.

Holding you close, his mind fills with images of similar nights, perhaps a little house of your own nearby where the sounds of the ocean can lull you both to sleep. He imagines lazy mornings with you, shared laughter, and quiet evenings just like this one. Each moment reinforcing the bond between you.

"You know," Paul whispers while breaking the comfortable silence. His voice tinged with a mix of wonder and conviction, "I feel like the luckiest guy on earth to have you. Every day with you feels like a promise of something great."

You look up at him, touched by his sincerity and the soft look in his eyes. "And I feel like the luckiest girl," you respond. Your voice soft. "I can't wait for all those days, Paul."

Content in the quiet night wrapped in each other's arms the world seems to stand still. Eventually, as the night deepens and the chill of the air becomes more pronounced, Paul's concern for your comfort reasserts itself. "Let's get you home before you turn into an ice cube," he jokes lightly. But his care is evident in the way he helps you to your feet and keeps you close as you walk to his car.

When you arrive at your doorstep Paul pulls you into one more long, lingering kiss. This one filled with promises and plans. "See you tomorrow, love. Dream of us," he says as he finally, regretfully, pulls away.

As you watch him drive off his earlier words echo in your heart filling you with warmth and a deep, unshakeable sense of belonging. You step inside already counting the minutes until you see him again, secure in the knowledge that what you have is once-in-a-lifetime. Tonight has not only brought you closer but has also cemented a future you are both eager to build together. One beautiful day at a time.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @hollyplake

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thesecondhandwoman · 7 months ago

Note

Hii, I’d like to request ambessa comforting reader with body issues please!!

YOUR INSECURITIES

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: You have always felt insecure about your body, never feeling like it was quite right. But Ambessa thought different, and she wanted to prove just how beautiful you truly were.

Request: Anon 🤍

The air in Noxus was thick with the weight of iron and glory. It was a world where strength was currency, and weakness was a debt no one wanted to owe. But within the lavish chambers of Ambessa Medarda’s estate, there was no war, no clashing steel, only comfort.

You sat at the edge of the grand bed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic. The silk was smooth, delicate, and far too fine for someone who felt as out of place as you did right now. Your eyes darted to the mirror across the room, catching sight of your reflection. It wasn’t kind. It never was.

The voice in your head was crueler than any general’s barked orders. Every curve, every mark, every perceived flaw—it all shouted at you, louder than the world outside ever could. Your eyes flitted away from the mirror as if it had scorched you.

You hated this. You hated that it had power over you.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the hall, slow and deliberate. Each thud was a testament to the sheer weight of the person behind them. Ambessa.

Your heart twisted in your chest. You loved her. Goddesses above, you loved her. And that love came with doubt. How could someone so monumental—so revered, strong, and indomitable—choose you? Your insecurities latched onto that question like a parasite, feeding on every glance, every whispered comment from the nobles who thought you weren’t worthy to stand by her side.

The door opened with a low creak, and there she stood.

Ambessa Medarda.

Her presence filled the room like a storm front, raw power barely leashed. Clad in loose-fitting pants and a sleeveless tunic that bared her muscular arms, she was a figure carved from marble and war. Her golden eyes landed on you with the precision of a general assessing the battlefield. But there was no hardness in her gaze. Only warmth.

“Why do you look like you’ve lost a fight you haven’t even fought, little one?” Her voice was a rich, steady rumble, every syllable carrying the weight of authority. She crossed the room in a few strides, the muscles in her legs flexing with effortless grace.

You felt your throat tighten. You didn’t want her to see you like this. Not when she always seemed so unshakable.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, eyes fixed on your lap. Your fingers twisted the fabric harder, nails pressing crescents into your palms. “Just thinking too much.”

Ambessa crouched before you, a low grunt accompanying her descent. Even as she knelt, she seemed colossal. Her hands, calloused from decades of wielding swords and shields, rested on your knees, grounding you like an anchor.

“You’re terrible at lying,” she said, tilting her head to meet your downcast eyes. “Talk to me.”

Her tone was a command, but not a harsh one. A gentle order from someone who knew exactly how strong you had to be just to admit you were hurting.

You swallowed hard. Your eyes darted toward the mirror again before quickly looking away. Her gaze followed yours, and her brow furrowed in understanding.

“Ah,” she hummed, her voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. Her hands squeezed your knees firmly, not rough, not soft, but solid. Steady. “That’s the enemy, is it?”

“I hate it,” you admitted quietly, voice brittle as cracked glass. “I hate looking at myself sometimes.”

Her eyes stayed on you, unwavering. Ambessa didn’t flinch, didn’t brush it aside like so many others had. She didn’t offer hollow reassurances or empty platitudes. She listened.

You glanced at her, expecting judgment, maybe even pity. But her eyes only held patience. Love. That unyielding, immovable love she reserved for so few.

“I see,” she said, voice low like the roll of distant thunder. Her fingers slid upward from your knees to your thighs, broad palms smoothing over the fabric as if wiping away the weight you carried. She squeezed again, slow and deliberate. “You fight battles with yourself every day, don’t you, little one?”

Your breath hitched at the accuracy of it. You nodded, a single, small motion.

“Then let me remind you of something.” Her gaze sharpened, golden eyes fierce but not unkind. She shifted, rising just enough to sit beside you on the edge of the bed. One arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against her side. Her warmth was immediate, her body heat like a forgefire. Safe. Her other hand tilted your chin to face her.

“You are not weak for having doubts. Weakness is letting them win.” Her thumb brushed over your cheek in slow, soothing strokes. “I have fought wars, conquered nations, and stood before men who claimed to be unbreakable. Do you know what every one of them feared most?”

You shook your head, eyes wide.

“Being seen,” she said, her gaze soft but unyielding. “To be seen for all that they are; their flaws, their fears, their regrets. It terrifies them.” She leaned forward, her forehead resting lightly against yours. “But you? You let me see you every day.” Her breath was warm on your skin, her voice low and earnest. “That, little one, is courage.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. Your breath shuddered as tears pricked your eyes. The weight on your chest didn’t disappear, but it shifted. It wasn’t so suffocating now.

“You don’t have to love every part of yourself today,” she murmured, voice gentle but steady as stone. “But I will love every part of you every day. Without question. Without condition.” Her golden eyes pierced you with a look so certain, so absolute, that your doubts dared not stand before it.

You let out a breathy, broken laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”

Ambessa huffed, her lips twitching into a rare smile. “Nothing about love is easy, little one. If it were, everyone would be strong enough to hold it.” She pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering there just long enough for you to feel the weight of it. “But I was never one to be drawn to ‘easy’ things.”

Her arm stayed around you, unyielding like a shield wall. Slowly, slowly, you let yourself lean into it. Her scent—smoke, steel, and faint cedar—filled your senses, grounding you like the steady thrum of a war drum.

Her fingers combed through your hair, her nails scraping lightly against your scalp. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t transactional. It was care. Pure, unshaken care. You let your head fall to her shoulder, and she shifted to make it more comfortable. Always adapting, always aware of you.

Silence hung between you, but it wasn’t hollow. It was full. Full of her presence. Full of the quiet promise she’d made to you every day without words.

After a while, her hand tilted your chin again, and you met her eyes. “Come,” she said, nodding toward the mirror. “Look with me.”

Panic clawed at your ribs. “Ambessa, I—”

“Trust me,” she said simply, her voice as steady as the mountain she stood upon. Her gaze was so sure, so absolute, that you nodded before you even realized it.

She rose, pulling you with her, her hand never leaving yours. Slowly, you stood before the mirror. She stood behind you, her body a fortress at your back. Her arms looped around your waist, her head lowered to rest on your shoulder.

“Do you see?” she asked, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “The woman I see every day.”

You swallowed hard, eyes darting away. But Ambessa’s hands tightened on your waist, not forceful but firm. “Look.”

So you did.

At first, all you saw were the things you hated. Your eyes locked onto every ‘imperfection’ you’d cataloged over the years. But then you felt her breath at your ear, her body warm behind you, her hands steady on you like the safest armor you’d ever worn.

Your gaze shifted.

You saw the curve of her arms wrapped around you. The contrast of her bronze skin against yours. The weight of her love pressing into you, undeniable and real. Your breath slowed. Her eyes met yours in the reflection, steady as a heartbeat.

“Look at her,” Ambessa whispered like a prayer. “She’s still standing.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they didn’t feel so heavy. You leaned back into her, letting yourself be held.

“I see her,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm.

“Good,” Ambessa rumbled, arms tightening around you like an unbreakable vow. “Because I see her too.”

A/N: I just wrote this real quickly (at 12 am) because it is a fabric that I felt the urge to draw, so I’m sorry if there are any typos or confusion.

A/N: Also, to anyone who felt like this touched them more than the usual, I just wanted to say you are beautiful, no matter how your body looks.

#ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #ambessa fanfic #ambessa arcane #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa #arcane fanfic #arcane #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #fluffy fanfic #fluff #comfort fanfic #comfort #body image #fanfic #fanfic writing

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muletia · 6 months ago

Note

you've mentioned pegging optimus until he's rambling about getting pregnant, but I NEED u to go more into detail about it. literally foaming at the mouth at the idea of almost taunting him "hmm, any deeper and I'll get you pregnant". him just losing it and begging to be sparked, so u fuck him until he's drooling and borderline incoherent, but still moaning about getting knocked up 😊

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦 ✧˖°

pegging tfp optimus would fix me actually

cw: valveplug, dom!top!reader, sub!bottom!optimus, pegging, l-bomb, breeding kink, reader uses a strap

word count: 750

He feels too much. Too intensely. Processor has long dismissed logic, replacing coherent thoughts with mindless, shapeless ones resembling tangled threads. Now, there is no responsibility; the stress of gnawing problems has been replaced by pure ecstasy. Feels it everywhere, even at the tips of his digits, which scrape at the berth in search of a nonexistent anchor. His pedes behave similarly. Thighs tremble from the overwhelming pleasure you so generously bestow upon him. He knows he is not making your task easier, but he cannot stop the quivering — proof of how thoroughly you have ruined him.

“You’re doing great, darling,” you praise him, even though Optimus is just laying beneath you looking pretty. This time, the pleasure is all his. “Keep it up, and perhaps we’ll truly end up with a child.”

At the mere mention of having offspring with you, his back arches, and his helm tilts back. Once again, he makes your work harder; feels it in the sudden change in rhythm deep within his valve. But he cannot help it. Besides, you quickly prove how perfectly harmonized you are by adapting to him. You move closer, pressing your hips more firmly against his. Your thighs meet his, smearing themselves with transfluid — a testament to the length of your shared indulgence.

“[Name], ah…” he tries to speak, but it does not come easily. Processor fails to align with his voice box. “Please…”

He cannot finish the sentence when you suddenly pick up speed, thrusting with full force into his poor, battered valve. It looks swollen and is utterly filled with blue fluid, which drips off your fake cock, but this poses no obstacle for Optimus. Despite the sweet torment, he does not want it to end. Not until he is certain that new life will be created within him, ignoring the absurdity and impossibility of it all.

“What’s the matter, darling?” you ask. Is it cruelty, or are you teasing innocently? He cannot tell, but he does not hold it against you. As long as you are inside him, you can do anything you want.

“[Name]…” he tries again. “Nhnn, I beg you… ah! Please, give me a sparkling! Hah, please! I want… I-I want to be sparked…”

Tears pool in the corners of his optics. You are also certain that the glistening substance around his mouth is his equivalent of saliva.

Holy shit. The great Optimus Prime reduced to a begging, drooling, mindless wreck. Thanks to you. The sight before you is entirely your doing. All it took was once mentioning the topic of children and pregnancy, casually letting it slip during the climax that you would love to have a child with him. As a fantasy, a byproduct of diving too deep into domspace. And he took the bait, completely enchanted by the idea of you knocking him up, even though he knows it is impossible.

Well, for such a sight, it was worth feeding his delusions.

“Since you are asking so nicely…” you murmur.

Your eyes meet, and at that moment, you grab the blue armor plates on his hips and push the silicone cock deeper until you are pressed tightly together. Optimus roars, overwhelmed by you, but he still seems to draw closer, craving more. He wants to become one, to unite in the most intimate way.

“I… I love you,” he mumbles. Your gazes cross again.

“Oh yes, I’m getting you pregnant, big boy.”

You move your hips again. This time faster, leaving no room for doubt about your intentions. You will break the laws of biology if you must.

He feels you relentlessly pumping his own transfluid back into him, as if to assure him you will fulfill his illusory wish.

“Ah, yes! T-thank you, thank you…” he whines. His back arches again, digits claw ferociously at the berth.

He does not know how much longer he can hold out before his body gives up entirely and he won't be able to move even his optics. But he wants to savor this. The fleeting moment, because he does not know when the next one will come. And your kindness, your willingness to tend to him and satisfy his warped, corporeal needs.

“I want… I want a sparkling, ah! with you,” he moans, lost in the subspace. “Give me one, nhnn [Name], I beg you!”

“I love you too,” you pant.

More transfluid spills from his valve, but Optimus gives you no sign to stop, still focused on his mission. Babbling nonsense about pregnancy and having offspring. Preferably several.

#transformers x reader #optimus x reader #obsessed!optimus #valveplug

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noorpersona · 2 months ago

Text

Jealousy: Tendou (NSFW)

The event was a swirl of warm lighting, soft laughter, and the rich, heady scent of tempered chocolate and burnt sugar.

Somewhere in the heart of Tokyo, a five-star patisserie had been transformed into an evening affair—a private industry showcase for chefs, culinary press, and the occasional wide-eyed investor. Tendou Satori moved through the space like he belonged to it. Which, of course, he did.

You stood near the back wall, watching him with an easy smile. Even dressed in black slacks and a soft linen shirt, half-buttoned and rolled at the forearms, he looked like trouble. The smooth curve of his freshly-shaved head caught the ambient light, shining faintly as he turned in profile to greet a cluster of press. He was striking—his angular features more mature now, but his grin still full of mischief, his eyes always dancing.

You were his plus one tonight—his girlfriend, his anchor, his favorite distraction. And while you didn’t know the first thing about ganache ratios or butter emulsions, you did know the way he talked about his craft with such unfiltered joy. It was endearing. Infectious. Sexy.

The event had gone well—Tendou had been in his element, the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand as he joked his way through tasting stations and critiques. You’d lingered behind while he stayed back to help clean up, perched near the edge of the room, sipping something bubbly and watching him from afar.

That’s when Ryouta—one of the younger chefs, clean-cut and too confident—approached you again. You’d met him earlier, briefly, and now he was back, a tray of glossy pastries balanced on one hand.

“Still hungry?” he asked with a smirk, holding out a delicate lemon-honey tart on a golden tasting spoon.

“It was really good,” you admitted politely.

“Here,” he said, stepping closer, holding out a dark, glossy square balanced on a miniature spatula. “This one’s been giving me trouble all month—bittersweet ganache with orange blossom and sea salt. Let me know if it actually works this time.”

He watched you intently as you leaned forward. “It’s all about the bloom at the end. Should hit just after the salt fades.”

You bit. Smiled.

“Yeah?” he asked, already reaching into the tray again. “Alright. Try this one too—different profile, less floral.”

He held it between two fingers, lifted it toward your lips.

You hesitated. “Uh…”

“It’s fine,” he laughed. “Happens all the time at these things. No one touches anything with their own hands.”

That logic was questionable, but the dessert smelled incredible, so you took it gently from his fingers and let it melt on your tongue. Rich. Decadent. It bloomed in layers—bitter, then sweet, then citrus.

You were nodding in delight when a voice—low and sing-song—broke the moment in two.

“Well, this looks cozy.”

You turned.

Tendou stood just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, head tilted like a cat watching something wiggle in the grass. His expression was all sharp corners and candy-coated charm, but you could see it—the tension. The tightness in his shoulders. The twitch of his jaw as his eyes dragged over Ryouta’s hand, still hovering too close to your mouth.

“Oh, Satori,” Ryouta said, laughing. “She’s got a good palate. I was just letting her—”

“Feed her with your fingers?” Tendou cut in, smiling wide. “How generous.”

You blinked. “Wait, it’s not like—”

But he was already by your side. He slid an arm around your waist and plucked your champagne flute from your hand like it had offended him personally.

“We’re gonna head out,” he said cheerfully to no one in particular. “Enjoy the rest of the night. Try not to lose any more chocolates to strangers.”

And then he was guiding you—no, steering you—toward the doors. Not rough, not rude, but with enough silent urgency that you didn’t ask questions.

Not until you were in the car.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “What was that?”

Tendou didn’t answer at first. His fingers drummed against his knee, eyes fixed on the city lights flashing past the window.

You leaned in. “Satori.”

“I watched another man feed you dessert with his fingers,” he said, tone bright and clipped. “Which was wild, by the way.”

You blinked. “He’s a chef.”

He turned his head toward you, smiling a little too wide. “So am I. But I don’t let people lick chocolate off my hands unless they’re gonna moan about it later.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I didn’t moan.”

“Not yet.”

The rest of the ride was quiet. But your body wasn’t. Your heart drummed loud in your ears, a slow and fluttery pulse you could feel all the way down your arms. There was a weight behind his silence that made your thighs press together involuntarily, your breath shallow with anticipation.

Every glance he didn’t give you felt like a brush of fire, and every flex of his fingers against his knee sent a little jolt down your spine. You were still tasting the chocolate—but now it was wrapped in tension, thick with something dangerous and deeply personal. It sat behind your teeth like a promise unspoken.

But the moment the door shut behind you both at home, it was like the tension snapped loose.

Tendou grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him—not harshly, but with purpose. His mouth met yours in a kiss that was all teeth and caramel heat, hands sliding up your sides like he couldn’t decide where to hold you first.

You gasped into him. “Satori—”

“I don’t share,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, your throat. “Not food. Not you. Not the way you taste.”

He backed you toward the kitchen counter, palms skimming down your thighs to lift you up with practiced ease. Your legs wrapped around his waist without thinking.

“I didn’t think it would bother you,” you whispered, breath catching as he kissed your collarbone, nipping just hard enough to make you shiver.

“It didn’t,” he said, voice dark. “Until it did.”

He tugged your dress up, mouth following the line of your thigh, his hands everywhere—hot, demanding, worshipful.

“You gonna let anyone else feed you like that?” he asked, just before he slid your panties aside with two fingers.

You moaned. “No—”

“Say it.”

“I won’t,” you gasped, hips jerking as his mouth met you, tongue sweeping slow and devastating. He licked into you deliberately, like he wanted to savor every reaction—every stuttering moan, every twitch of your legs around his shoulders.

His fingers gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open while he devoured you. It built steadily—no teasing, no games—just hungry focus and the low hum of pleasure as he drank down every sound you gave him. You couldn’t stop it; your legs were trembling, your fingers tangled in his shirt as the heat curled, then peaked—

You came with a cry that echoed through the foyer, hips bucking as his name slipped broken from your lips. He didn’t stop until you were shivering, overstimulated, eyes glassy.

He looked up, mouth slick, eyes shining with something darker than mischief. “We’re not done.”

Then he stood, leaned in close, and kissed you deep—slow and messy and full of intent.

And melt, you did.

Again and again, until the only thing you could remember was how his name sounded in your mouth and how good it felt to be wanted this much.

—

The morning after, the room was quiet.

Golden light slipped through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the sheets. Tendou lay on his side, propped on one elbow, head tilted slightly as he watched you sleep. You were sprawled against the pillow, breathing slow and steady, hair tousled from his hands and the night before. The blanket had slipped down just enough to reveal the evidence.

His marks.

Your skin was littered in them—hickeys blooming along your collarbone and throat like wine-stained petals, small bruises dusting your ribs, and faint bite marks along the curve of your thigh where the sheet barely clung. Some were shallow, teasing reminders. Others were darker, deeper. Possessive.

He let his fingers trace a lazy path down your spine, not enough to wake you, but enough to feel you sigh in your sleep, your body instinctively curling toward the touch.

He smiled to himself.

“You’re covered in me,” he murmured, voice low, smug, and barely audible. His hand ghosted over the marks like he was admiring a painting he'd made just for himself.

You stirred slightly, blinking against the pillow. “You went feral,” you muttered, voice rough with sleep.

He chuckled, eyes still on you. “You liked it.”

You rolled onto your side, facing him now, the sheet falling from your shoulder.

“You got jealous over chocolate.”

“I got jealous over you.” His eyes met yours—sharp, unrepentant, glowing in the morning light. “And I’d do it again.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just leaned in and kissed him, slow and warm, lips brushing his lazily, your hand cupping his jaw.

“I think you left a tooth mark on my hip,” you whispered, breath curling against his mouth.

“Good,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching up. “Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

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ducksido · 2 months ago

Note

I've been loving how you've written all of my requests so far. I love your writing in general so that isn't really a surprise. Well, onto my request. Could you do the Housewardens with a s/o who has a stutter? It usually isn't noticeable but sometimes it gets really bad, bad enough that it gets frustrating to communicate. Also the reader(s/o) gets embarrassed over the stutter due to some people making fun of them when they had to present in front of the class before.

-🥀🪻

(of course 🥀🪻)

Housewardens with Yuu who has a stutter

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle isn’t quite sure how to respond—he's not used to emotional nuance thanks to his strict upbringing.

But he listens. Listens intently. When you get stuck mid-sentence, he doesn’t rush you. He lets the silence stretch without pressure, a quiet signal of: I’m here. Take your time.

After learning about your classroom experience, he gets visibly upset—not at you, but at the people who made fun of you. “You were brave enough to speak. They didn’t deserve to hear you.”

He studies up on speech therapy techniques and gently asks if you’d be okay with a hand signal system—like you squeezing his hand when you’re too frustrated to continue, so he can read the room for you.

If you're ever in a class presentation again, he’ll stand in the crowd, meeting your eyes the whole time, anchoring you with nods of encouragement.

Leona Kingscholar

His first instinct? "Who the hell made fun of you?" Yeah, someone’s getting buried in the sandpit outside Savannaclaw.

He’s laid-back enough to not pressure you when you’re struggling to speak—he’ll just raise an eyebrow, smirk a little, and go: “Tch. I got time. No one says it like you do anyway.”

If you get upset or start shutting down, he won't go all mushy—he knows you hate feeling pitied—but he’ll bump your shoulder, mumble: “You don’t gotta be perfect to make me listen.”

Leona will be your unshakable wall. If anyone dares laugh again, one glare from him and the room goes dead silent.

Azul Ashengrotto

Internally? Panic. Externally? Calm and courteous. He's terrified of saying the wrong thing, especially given his own trauma with bullying.

He understands. Oh, he gets it. You remind him of himself—polished on the surface, but vulnerable in moments of exposure.

When you stutter, he subtly slows his own speech to match your pace, making it feel less awkward. You don’t even notice at first—it’s just suddenly easier to talk to him.

One day, when you’re particularly embarrassed after tripping over your words, he gently reaches over and takes your hand. “I used to dread speaking too. But every word you say is worth hearing—even the ones that need a moment.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Pure sunshine. Doesn’t even notice the stutter at first—he’s too focused on your smile, your ideas, your energy.

But when he sees you frustrated or pulling away from conversations, he gently asks, “Hey, are you okay? Did I talk too fast?”

You explain your stutter, and he immediately hugs you. “That’s okay! That’s just how your words dance a little before they come out!”

You can’t even stay embarrassed around Kalim—he celebrates every time you speak. “Yes!! I love when you tell stories! Even the way you say things is fun!”

If you’re having a bad day, he’ll offer to speak for you if needed—no judgment, just support.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is hyper-aware of how you carry yourself. The first time he sees you recoil mid-sentence out of embarrassment, he’s already dissecting the entire situation.

“Someone made you feel ashamed. Unacceptable.”

He never interrupts your stutter—not once. His patience is calm, dignified, and never patronizing. If you apologize, he cuts you off with a firm but gentle, “You are not flawed. You are human. And I admire that about you.”

Vil even works with you on breathing techniques—not to fix you, but to help you feel more confident. He adapts some stage projection tricks to your comfort.

If someone mocks you, Vil absolutely eviscerates them with a cold, cutting line that makes them rethink their life.

Idia Shroud

Idia is so anxious around speech in general. He stutters himself, so when he realizes you do too, he’s like: “Wait… you mean… I’m not the only glitching NPC in the cutscene?”

He's instantly more comfortable with you than anyone else. Conversations are awkward, yes, but real. Soft. Shared.

When your stutter gets bad, he doesn’t even blink—just continues typing on his tablet, then flashes it at you: [“No worries. Wanna just chill in silence or type today?”]

If you cry out of frustration, he panics and offers you snacks, games, a blanket, and then just shyly says: “I-I like your voice… It sounds like you’re casting a spell when you talk... like real magic.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is unbothered. The idea of mocking someone for their speech is so beneath him he can’t comprehend it.

When you stutter, he tilts his head and patiently waits, giving you space like a quiet glade in the woods.

If you get upset or try to hide it, he places a hand over yours, warm and grounding. “Child of man… Do not be ashamed. Each pause is a breath of your soul. Let it speak.”

He never makes you feel like you have to perform for him. Silence or speech, you’re cherished either way.

If someone mocks you in his presence? Oh, dear. Malleus may not react loudly, but the drop in temperature and faint green flicker of flame in his eyes sends a very clear message.

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slyandthefamilybook · 1 year ago

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okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

#atlas entry #this is still a developing story but all the information herein is accurate and current at time of publishing #baltimore #baltimore bridge collapse #francis scott key bridge #key bridge #I spent an hour collating all this info please give it a reblog

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4ruits · 21 days ago

Text

(pop) sensational ──── nanami kento & fem-bodied!reader [ smut ]

you’ve got a fiery temper and a chip on your shoulder. it's gotten to a point where no one wants to work with you, and your career is nearly in shambles. the media wants to know: are you a diva or truly just a bitch?

in efforts of rebranding, your manager sends you on a resort to kuantan, malaysia, where you meet someone who truly speaks life back into you and once again, making you remember and feel the passion you once had.

𐙚 : idol!au, vacation fling, age gap relationship [ reader: early twenties & nanami: mid-to-late thirties ], mentions of stalking & light violence, lots of arguing, enemies to fuckers, brat!reader, brat taming, (pussy) spanking, rough sex, doggy style, manhandling, asphyxiation, hair pulling, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, dirty talk, etc.

minors, ageless & blank blogs do not interact ! ──── it's summer vacation for me & im feeling the summer vibes so strong.

BREAKING NEWS: [YOUR STAGE NAME] CAUGHT PUNCHING SUPER FAN IN THE FACE

“It seems like (Your Stage Name) will go to any means necessary for their privacy as a video’s been circulating the internet about a certain popstar losing their cool on a fan of theirs,” Gossip News Anchor, Gojo Satoru, introduces as he appears on screen. As the tall individual sits behind the large table, the gloss reflecting his incredible physique, Gojo’s sapphire eyes seem to be haunting you as to his left, the aforementioned video appears on his left. No matter the position you take on the couch, you’ve found that his eyes won’t leave yours and nearly put you in hysterics.

Your blood starts to boil all over again as you grip the plastic fork tightly and shovel more food in your mouth. “Previously charting number one on Billboards with their album Good Girls Cry, Hot Girls Fly, numbers are already starting to tank as people have created their own notion on the hot-tempered celebrity.”

Gojo snorts, pink lips contorting into a devious smirk as he adds his own commentary. “I don’t know which one applies to her— seems to be neither. ”

The smart thing would be to change the channel or turn off the television, but you have this sick want of knowing what everyone’s saying about you, especially the man you used to watch eagerly, always believing that when you make it big, you’d fly under his radar and keep a good image. Now, here you are, stirring in anger as he gets the best of you.

He continues talking as you continue to watch and eat away in anger. Orange chicken, broccoli, and rice being shoved in without a second to waste. You come to a point where you can barely chew properly when the events that have transpired relays in the back of your mind.

You scoff, grains of rice spewing from your mouth. What Gojo Satoru names a Super Fan, you deem a stalker. The moment you remember the clip becoming viral, the video relaying on your Tik Tok feed, you could immediately tell that it’s been seamlessly edited to fit the victim’s narrative. Though, you’d also claim that you’re the victim.

Halfway in between your dinner, you lose your appetite, forcing yourself to chew and swallow what’s already in your mouth and finally finding the strength to change the channel. The last thing you hear Gojo say is, “People coined her this generation’s top diva, but I beg you guys to ask— is she a diva or just a bitch? Remember guys, this isn’t her first rodeo. We need to think about who we make famous and—”

══════════════════

“We need to fix your image.” After days of ignoring your manager’s calls, you’ve finally decided to answer one of her calls. You knew that you couldn’t avoid the world and its consequences for too long. You chose this life and if you wanted to continue having this life, you needed to partake in whatever damage control your manager could conjure. But, would any of it be worth it?

The people loved a good diva. They love to hate on female celebrities and coin them as divas the moment they set healthy boundaries between them and their fans, but you’ve gotten to a point where you don’t know if you’ll ever redeem yourself from this. Especially because you’re hellbent on believing that you’re in the right.

“What for?” Slouched in the uncomfortable swivel chair, you’ve got your arms crossed and refuse to look up at the woman who’s managed to take you out of the gutters when you would make, yet again, another bad choice that the media always come to enjoy. You’ve been looking at the comments on all the social media platforms that you access too. (You’re figuring that they’ll come to confiscate that, too, by the end of this meeting). The accusations and statements are far more worse this time around— devastating amounts of death threats, misogynistic comments from both men and women, and vile dms that made your bones shudder in disgust and fear. It was an overnight shift that definitely confirmed your fears— this lavish life you’ve come to live will all be over soon. All because your stalker got the better hand. “I did what I needed to do to protect myself.”

“That’s not what social media’s saying.” You can’t quite understand how Shoko keeps such a level head with you, always managing to stay calm no matter what you throw at her. Setting her hands on the table, her nails shine in the clear coated polish she’s applied as she taps them in a rhythm you’ve always found calming. You wonder if she’s come to realize that with the way your shoulders lose tension. “They’ve already been collecting evidence to hate you and this seems to be the nail in the coffin. I know you’ve seen what people are saying. We need to get this under control before we can’t—”

“We needed it under control the moment I suspected that I had a fucking stalker.” Fixing your posture, you’re surrounded by your PR team, but only one woman who freely challenges and doesn’t have the fear to talk back to you. You slam your fist on the table. “The moment I contacted the police with my speculation, they should’ve been on it!”

“And you should’ve let your bodyguard do your job and handle things,” she fires back. “Maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.”

The room gets strikingly quiet, quieter than before. Shoko’s rendered you silent before, but always telling you something that you needed to hear. This— this you fear, isn’t. Feeling the impact of her own words, you see her composure fall for a quick second and her mouth falls open in quick attempts to take back her own words. However, you’ve always believed that words spoken out in anger are always laced in a person’s truth.

You stand on your feet as people divert eye contact from both you and Shoko. “Before you try and apologize, don’t. Just start looking for someone else to work with.”

When you leave, the only sound the meeting room could hear is the creak of the door slowly shutting behind you. And then finally, with a heavy exhale as Shoko hides her face in her hands, she curses, “Shit.”

Two hours later, when you’re back at home and eating your anger away, you receive a notification. A text message from Shoko: I’m not here to apologize. I know you won’t accept it, but I really advise you to take a break. Somewhere far and not America. I know you’ve always wanted to go to Malaysia, what about Kuantan?

And against your better judgment, you click on the link she’s provided. You don’t respond to her, letting the read receipt speak volumes, and already contemplating outfits for the trip.

══════════════════

The sun shines brighter in Kuantan, Malaysia. And for a long time, you’ve been seeing your shine dim down under the warming lights of stadiums and arenas— burning your skin but never making it brighter. But, here— here — you truly glimmer underneath the hot rays of the sunlight. Sitting on a white blanket, stabilized by a water bottle, a tote bag, shoes and a cooler, you’re laying down in a dark green bikini and if you move ever so slightly, you can feel your belly button piercing against your navel. This has been the most relaxed you’ve ever felt since the couple years of stardom you’ve experienced.

Within this private resort, you’ve got booked, you remain untouched and unbothered for the remainder of your trips, only ever hearing the sound of your name from employees doing their job. And the only time eyes are on you is when passersby are walking past and shoot a quick glance. They never blatantly stop and stare.

You’ve grown the habit to always wear headphones or earbuds to silence the outside world, but recently, you’ve found the beauty in listening to the outside world. Right now, it’s the sound of waves from clear waters where you can see marine life in your own tranquil home while you and countless people invade it for the time being. It’s the sound of locals and tourists speaking in their native tongues, and it’s the sound of your ignorance to the current events being relayed about you back home.

You don’t want to leave.

When you no longer feel the warming hug of the sun against your skin, you figure it’s hiding amidst the clouds, but the dark shadow that casts over you is what startles your peace. Your eyes flutter open to a large body blocking the sun and you’re trying to be patient, you truly are, but the virtue’s never been strong for you. You’ve always told yourself that your lack of it is what’s driven you to such heights in your career, but now, it’s not your biggest strength, it’s a weakness and a flaw. Dark eyebrows scrunching together as you groan under your breath, trying to control the impending rage, but the longer that this blond brute stands in front of you the more you grow annoyed.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks, but you’re certain he’s heard you by the way he shifts on his feet. Nonetheless, you try again, louder. “Hello!”

“Hm?” you hear his deep voice finally turning towards you. Wearing round, tinted shades, you can’t see his eyes, but he has strong facial features. Dusty pink lips fixed in a relaxed frown, he looks down at your sitting frame while you scowl at him.

“Can’t you find somewhere else to stand?” you ask, attitude laced with every word. “You’re literally blocking my view.”

You expected a meek apology and for the man to sheepishly move out of your way, but to your surprise, he scoffs and turns back around, continuing to block your view and this time, purposely. In shock, you snort and further push yourself to sit up. “Excuse me!”

You’d have thought it was a language barrier, but just from his actions, you knew he understood you clearly. Your blood starts to boil, forcing yourself to stand up and approach the man, pushing at his shoulder to catch his attention. He matches your energy, this time, showing his annoyance when he spins around. “What?”

“I know you heard me,” you cross your arms, entering his personal space in hopes that he’d back up. However, he stands his ground, remaining an unmoving obstacle before you. “Move out the way! I don’t know how you didn’t see me before, but I was sitting here first.”

“And you can continue sitting there,” he states.

“Who do you think you are?” you snap.

“Who do you think you are?” he retorts back at you, crossing his muscular arms, prominent veins putting themselves on display. "This is a public beach. And don't you think you could've asked more politely?"

“I—” you stop yourself from continuing, clenching your fists as you try to control your anger. You know that he's right. You could've approached things better. Right as you’re about to say something else, an employee makes themself known. A petite woman looking in between you and the man, hoping to de-escalate the issue. “Is there something wrong?”

You groan, turning to the woman, nails digging into the palm of your hand as you try to find the words to calmly vent out your frustration. However, you remember the entire point of your trip— to relax. Seeing you flustered, trying to find your voice is comical. Typically, Nanami didn’t like the call of attention on him like this, but you’ve managed to dig under his skin with your snide remarks and disgusting attitude.

He never thought he’d find comfort in someone else’s anger, but he watches you with a sense of glee. He wonders what you’re going to do next, a young thing like you blowing gasket over such a simple matter, even though he did escalate this with his sheer stubbornness to oblige. Will you berate the poor employee in your rage or will you point at him pathetically?

In a deep huff, you throw your hands up in the air in defeat. “It’s fine!”

You give up, reaching down to grab your belongings. It catches Nanami off guard as you grab for everything messily, mumbling and cursing underneath your breath before stomping away. Presumably to another spot, but you’re marching right back towards the building, leaving both Nanami and the employee at a loss of words.

══════════════════

You never liked dining in hotels, preferring to explore other places and what they had to offer whenever you were in another state or country. However, after the long day you had, you find refuge in the hotel grounds. Also, having fallen asleep after your steaming hot shower and waking up at half past six in the evening, you don’t have the time to look for somewhere to visit right now. Instead of the green bikini you sported on the beach, you’re wearing an oversized t-shirt and biker shorts that stops a little bit past your mid-thighs. With a pair of sandals on your feet, they slap the ground with every step as you make your way down the elevator and find you a spot at a table near the bar.

A waiter comes to greet you, sliding a menu in front of you before giving you a few minutes to look through it. You’re all alone, enjoying the soft instrumental music playing overhead and hearing others talk amongst themselves when you hear the clink of glass hitting the table. You furrow your eyebrows at the waiter, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask for this.”

“It’s from the gentleman at table seven,” the waiter gestures, giving you a kind smile. Following where he gestured, your mood drops as you see the curt nod at who you can only assume was the man from the beach earlier today. You roll your eyes and scoff, pushing the glass in the direction of the waiter, reading his name tag, you hum. “Sorry, Yuuji, but tell him that I don’t want it.”

“You’re not gonna accept a free drink?” he asks, taken aback. “Wait, I’m sorry! I’ll—”

The chair across from you scrapes the ground, the same blond pulling out a seat for himself and sitting down before you could protest. Nanami quickly dismisses the waiter, holding the drink down before he could take it. “You’re really stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Oh—” Caught off guard and certainly not paid enough for instances like this, Yuuji finds himself uncertain on what to do. He looks at you, big brown eyes showing concern before going right back to the older man. “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

Nanami dismisses the young boy. “I can handle it from here.”

“Who said I wanted you here?” you sneer, leaning forward on the table. “I don’t want your lousy attempts at an apology. Leave.”

“Do you really think you can just bark orders at people and they’d willingly follow them?” Nanami gives you a once over, ashamed to feel an attraction towards you even though you’re spewing venom right in his direction. And the poor waiter, Yuuji, left to witness this all by himself and trying to remember employee protocols to easily handle this. He should really really get someone else, but he feels stuck.

“Ma’am, do you want me to call security for you?” Yuuji interjects, to which Nanami replies with, “That won’t be necessary.”

“Don’t be rude to him,” you snap, defending the employee.

“I should’ve said the same thing to you back on the beach,” Nanami retorts.

“It wouldn’t have gotten you very far,” you shoot back.

“Seems like the same thing’s happening here.”

“You suck at apologies, it seems,” you cross your arms. There’s a rush coursing through your body as your shoulders relax, tension released as you’re finding joy in this exchange. “For a man at your age, I’d expect better.”

“And for a young lady, I expected you to have better manners.”

“Seems like I wasn’t raised right,” you throw a faux smile, tilting your head as Yuuji just watches the scene unfold before him. With a shaky voice, he finally speaks again, “Uh— Ma’am?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh, feeling remorse for dragging the boy into this petty debacle. “He can stay. I need a verbal punching bag right about now.”

Nanami snorts. “You think I’m so easy to beat up?”

“No, but it makes it all the more fun.”

Nanami pushes the drink in your direction, some of the contents splattering out the cup and onto the table. “Just take it.”

You slide it back in his direction. “No,” you smirk. “I don’t like drinks like this. Get me something else.”

══════════════════

Nanami has never deemed himself to be a rough man. He’s never deemed himself to be one who willfully disrespects a woman for his own pleasure, but you’ve thrown yourself into his temporary life. What should’ve been a relaxing vacation becomes infiltrated by a pretty nuisance such as yourself. You’re just some pretty little brat that couldn’t accept the answer ‘no’ and seemingly likes to rile people up. It’s apparent in your body language, how your shoulders relaxed while you argued with him at the dining table and how your eyes sparkled whenever he slewed another snarky remark.

You were having fun and somewhere down the line, while the check was set on the table— the thing that he made sure to snatch up before you could even point a finger outwards— you felt something stir deep inside you. You couldn’t name it, refused to, but you liked it.

“Stop trying to be so chivalrous,” you sneer, watching the man pull out a wallet and slip his card inside the leather-bounded item. “You don’t need to waste your retirement money on me.”

“You know,” Nanami sighed. “I’ve never called a woman a bitch before.”

“There’s no need to lie to me,” you exhale. When the waiter comes back, you watch as Nanami slides the bill his way. “I thought this relationship was built on honesty. Don’t worry, I won’t tell everyone else that you’re just like every other shitty man there is. They already see it for themselves.”

“How do I make you shut up?” he asks, feigning annoyance despite taking the same pleasure from this entire encounter.

“You lost that chance about an hour ago,” you gleam. “Now, you’ve got to be creative— obviously an area you lack in.”

“I’ve got a few ideas already,” Nanami smirks, leaning in his seat. “Just need to know if you’re up for it.”

“I’m sure that everything up your sleeve will surely put me to sleep in a matter of seconds,” you challenge. “But I’m willing to see what you’ve got.”

Ultimately, that seemed to be the goal.

Stumbling in the direction of his hotel room, you fell into the door with a hearty thud, a harsh breath escaping you in this flurry of moments. His lips taste strong of the whiskey he had alongside you, his pink tongue dancing against yours to savor your taste. Your hands wrapped around the nape of his neck while his hands went into search for his keycard, grabbing it and pressing it against the metal door handle until he could hear that click sound. Your moans sound like a high-pitched surrender to his touch. Throwing open the door, you stumble back, but he catches you from falling when you threaten to do so.

Hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, his cold fingers press underneath the cotton and dance against your bare skin. Your stomach clenches as you suck in a breath as his ice cold digits threaten your comfort. You allow him to take off your shirt, hearing it go disregarded to the ground in a soft thud while he follows next. Underneath his shirt, you feel the blond hairs against his chest. Despite the soft chub that you feel, there’s still muscle from his years of consistent workout in the past. And that muscle isn’t for show.

He picks you up with ease, strong hands holding the undersides of your thighs as you level you to his height. “By the time I’m done with you, that mind of yours will finally be empty.”

You give him a challenging once over, eyelashes fluttering in mischief. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be done in a matter of seconds, old man.”

You don’t believe yourself, but a spark’s been ignited and you don’t want it to blow out. You squeal the moment you feel yourself drop, landing on the bed in a shock that has your heart racing. Then, one hand around your ankle, you screech when he drags you towards the end of the bed. He chuckles, in a way that’s so deep and manly that it sends arousal straight to your core. Looking in your eyes, Nanami can tell just how much fun you’re having with being such a pain in the ass. But in due time, you’ll certainly learn your lesson.

Spreading your legs open, he palms in between your thighs, pressing against your covered cunt. He cups it, feeling the heat reverberate from it and how you pulsate. Underneath his tired brown eyes are excitement and anticipation as he smirks down at you. “Bet you’re so wet already. I know it… I know this pussy of yours’s just waiting to be fucked, hm?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, tugging on the elastic fabric to reveal your sodded panties. In contrast to the black attire, you’ve worn a matching set of pink undergarment that’s all too appealing to Nanami’s eyes. He hums in delight as he tugs on your leg once more, wrapping the limbs around his waist and pressing his thumb down against the cotton padding of your crotch, your wet mound clenching around the fabric being pressed down by his finger. Back and forth he rubs against your folds while your clit pulsates in a dire need and want for this man you’ve only met today.

The warmth in your stomach continues to boil as your juices seep and cling to the fabric in a desperation, creating a bigger wet spot that the older man gladly feasts on with his eyes. Pink lips that happily twist in a grin as he looks down on you. Coffee-colored pupils hold so much desire in them that it makes you antsy, back starting to arch off the bed as you push yourself further against him. Gnawing on your thick bottom lip, you let your body language speak in volumes.

You’ve dropped the facade so quickly, finding yourself easily succumbing to his touch now in hopes that he’ll give your body what it so desires. But, Nanami can’t forget what transpired in the earlier hours. And, he won’t let you forget either.

“Aw,” he coos, tilting his head. “Does this pretty doll want me to take care of her?”

You meagerly nod, back arched off the bed as you jut out your breasts. They poke out in the cute bra, and it’s a sight that should be captured and admired, but he won’t fall for such tantalizing beauty so quickly. He won’t fall under your strings of control.

Pulling your panties to the side, your pussy glows underneath your essence. It shines like fragile porcelain, your sweet cunt anticipating and aching to be filled up with his cock. Nanami watches it clench as his thick index finger glides seamlessly in between your folds, collecting your arousal. He creates a pathway to your clit, pressing the smooth pad against it and feeling how your body shudders. “Please…”

It’s faint, your begging, but he catches it. Eyes flickering up to yours, Nanami tuts. “Do you think you deserve more?”

You nod without a second thought, pulling out an incredulous snort from Nanami. “You do?”

Again, you nod before the lightning strikes. The sting to your cunt has you jolting, a surprised squeal leaving you. But just as the pain comes, it quickly dissipates when you feel the gentle rub right back on your clit. You take a relaxed breath before you feel your body jumping yet again. You squirm, trying to pull away from the pain, but one strong hand grips at your thigh to keep you still. “Try pulling away, and I’ll be out that door. You want that?”

You quickly shake your head, “no,” weakly falling from your lips.

“Good,” he breathes. Neither do I.

One more time does the sting of his slaps reverberate in your pussy. Your body shivered, back still not touching the bed as your legs tightened around the man. Your moans were sweet and breathy, eyes watching him despite their constant fluttering. Honey blond hair with streaks of silver peppered throughout. You wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through his scalp. More and more of your honeyed slick seeped onto his hand at the sheer thought of your imagination, toes curling when you feel a digit tickle and tease at your entrance before pulling away.

“Nanami…” you whine, but he ignores you, dropping your legs from around him before sending one last strike to your cunt.

“I’m gonna ask you again.” He puts one knee up on the bed, crawling to hover over your body and dip down to your level. You can feel his body heat vibrate off his chest as it rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. “Do you really think you deserve more than what I’m giving you right now?”

And again, you nod. Because, you truthfully do believe that you deserve all of him. You believe you deserve everything from this world after how it’s treated you. But with the furrow of his eyebrows, you can tell that you’ve answered wrong. Rising up from the bed, Nanami sighs and pulls at his pants buttons. “Well, do you know what I think you deserve?”

Whining, you frown as you start to squirm. Bottom lip jutting out in a pout, you huff in annoyance. “Nobody cares what you think. Just come n’ fuck me already.”

Pulling down the zipper of his pants, his erection becomes more prominent as you lay pliant on the bed. Eyes fluttering down to his lower half, you can see how thick he is underneath and how he’s been gifted a dutiful amount of length with it. He chuckles, kicking off the garment and palms at his boner, feeling his pre dampen a spot against his upper thigh as you start to push yourself up on the bed, your elbows holding up your weight.

“Don’t worry,” he says, climbing up the bed once more. He easily has you under his trance despite your weak attempts to remain so bratty. You sit up straight, leaning into him, expecting to get a taste of his lips. Mere centimeters away from them, you receive a ghost of a smile. “Because, I’m so kind, you’ll get what you want—” His voice lowered. “—Get on your hands and knees.”

Your eyes sparkle with that fire that he’s come to adore in his moments of knowing you. “Are you gonna make me?”

Gaze hardening, he meets your challenge. “I won’t tell you twice.”

Face pressed into the soft pillows, your sobs are muffled. The bed creaks as Nanami plunges into your spongy walls with such vigor. The wet clapping of skin echoes through the room as he can hear your high-pitched cries and moans get swallowed by the smooth fabric. One knee digging into the bed with his foot pressed against your scalp, he’s brutal with how he fucks your sweet hole.

Your legs shake as your inner thighs are stained with his white seed and your sticky and glossy arousal. With the gasps of air you take, you can only whine and cry as your mind’s so fogged up and body weak and pliant against the bed. Your entire body feels hot despite the harsh beating your poor cunt is taking, fluttering for more as he presses into your cervix with each thrust. His touch sets you on fire, strong and veiny hands gripping at your hips as he plows into you, never relenting until he’s had his fill. “Finally got you to shut up, huh?”

You can only respond in weak and needy moans and whimpers— music to his ears. “Only thing you can do now is cry like a little bitch.”

Your cunt flutters at that, tightening around Nanami’s cock. He grunts, trying not to lose himself in you. “Fuck,” he whispers, before his quick moment of weakness is replaced with a chuckle. “What a filthy little thing you are. Letting yourself get used and disrespected by an older man. You have no respect for yourself.”

Even in your weak state, you manage to push your rear further against him in his visceral plows. Sweat beading off his forehead, Nanami grunts and groans in the heat of your pussy. His cock showered in your essence as your sweet cunt is begging and pleading for a release he refuses to give you. With every press of his tip against that gummy spot deep inside you, you feel that fluttering need to let go and release. But with every squeeze that lasts too long and when your sounds get all choked up, Nanami denies you yet another release and himself momentary pleasure. He pants, chest falling and rising as he watches you quiver below. Your ass jutting out in desperation as he eases the pressure he applies with his foot against you. It gives you just a moment to croak out, “Please… I want—”

He doesn’t give you more time to respond, gripping at your hair and forcing you up to have your back pressed against him. His excess seed slips past your folds and stains your thighs even more than they’ve already been. Whimpering, your eyes shut as you feel Nanami’s breath against the nape of your neck. “You asked for more. Isn’t this more?”

He tugs on your hair, your neck snapping back as he forces you to look at him through your welling up eyes. You shake your head, “Not enough. I need t’come. Please, Nanami!”

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” Nanami hums. “Beg s’more and maybe I’ll let you.”

You disobedient little thing, succumbing to him after all the fights you’ve put up. Eyes scrunching shut, you moan and whine out, “Please… Please, please, please! I need to cum— want t’come so bad!”

He doesn’t say anything, just pushing you back down on your stomach as he aligns himself within you once more. Sliding back inside you at ease, he returns to using brute force against your pussy walls. One knee digging into the sheets while his leg has its toes tangled in them, his sheaths himself greedily into your pussy. He’s still got a tight hold on your waist while his other hand snakes in between your legs to press down on your clit, eliciting a high-pitched sob from your lips. “Fuck!”

Gaining a bit of strength, you hold your upper body up with trembling hands that’ll soon give out, but it's worth it in the time being. With lidded eyes, you try your best to get a view of the man messing up your insides with his fat length, eyes fluttering when they make eye contact with the blond. You moan and mewl out in pleasure when that familiar coil returns. Eyes rolling back as you call out his name, “Nanami, please…”

He pinches your clit, sending a jolt through your body as your pussy clenches around his cock once more. There’s no pulling out this time, letting your walls hold his length in a death grip before you release yourself against him. He can feel himself twitch, buried deep inside your womb as you paint his cock in a smearing white. Your long-winded moan contorts into a hearty sigh, limbs falling as your chest hits the bed and your exhausted body having its fill. A few more languid thrusts of Nanami’s hips pull a few more high-pitched hymns from you before he’s completely emptied himself inside of you.

His length falls limp when he unsheaths himself from you, watching how your sweet hole leaks a mixture of each other’s release. It drips and stains the bed sheets and he only now feels guilty for the housekeepers tasked to clean it. Finally, you turn yourself on your back, hazy eyes pinned right on Nanami. “I’ll be seeing you after this, right?”

Nanami can’t help but snort, “Don’t tell me I’ve softened you up.”

“Oh, definitely not,” you laugh. “Just want to know if I have more to look forward to on this little trip.”

“I’ll let you know if I can fit some more time for you.”

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POP DIVA HAS RETURNED FROM BREAK! HAS SHE RETURNED A BRAND NEW PERSON OR HAS SHE REVERTED RIGHT BACK TO HER WAYS?

By Gojo Satoru | Thursday, June 12, 2025 | 12:00 PM

After viral videos of (Your Stage Name) has been released, they had dropped off the radar. Her record label claimed that she was taking a break from all the stardom while the people were demanding an explanation. It’s been six months since her disappearance and the people want to know if she’s learned her lesson or not. You all know how I feel about the crowned pop diva, but it’s not up to me to decide if she’s worthy enough to be back in the limelight. How do you guys feel? … Read More

𐙚 : this is my first time writing brat taming. y'all vibing with it? thank you so much for taking the time to read. please let me know what you thought down below in the comments, please. i will give you a slice of an apple.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen smut

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honeyhenry · 1 month ago

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All He Needs

My first "more than 100 words" fic that I sat down and wrote in more than 5 mins...I got too invested oops.. Thank you to everyone who reads, and also to anyone who has read any of my previous work! Much love!! (also happy to receive some requests as I build this little world!!)

A girl.

In all the generations that Wayne manor had proudly stood, never before had the grand estate had the true privilege of growing and nurturing a daughter born into the Wayne family.

From the moment she was pushed Earth-side, with a quiet disposition and smattering of dark brown hair, Bruce knew he was in trouble. You had been so certain to expect a boy, and Bruce, in loving you so earnestly - the only way he knew how - had believed and trusted your motherly instincts to a fault.

Oh how wrong you had been.

And Bruce is eternally grateful that you were. Soft pink lips with a sloped Cupid’s bow - just like his, you’d argue - long curled eyelashes, tiny fists that already knew to grip his finger for comfort and safety. She had broken his heart with her first noises of anguish at entering this new and scary world, and fixed it back up again the very moment she was first laid in his arms.

He can’t imagine the world any other way, now. How his heart had grown in size seemingly overnight, as he stayed awake through the quiet midnight hours. Watching her in the bassinet he’d built for her himself, the soft and steady rise of her stomach reassured him that she was here and safe. For the moments she awoke, Bruce was there already. It was no mistake that he had placed himself on the bedside closest to her. Within seconds she would be in his arms, the new father desperately trying to hush her before resting her gently at your chest to eat.

Seeing you together anchored his soul to the stars. His wife, who he would move the heavens and the earth for, who grounded him and kept him sane when he felt he could go no further in his mission to protect the city. A love he had never expected and yet somehow received in the form of your joy, care, kindness and loyalty. A love that became known physically, that neither of you had quite expected but welcomed gladly some 9 months ago. Bruce cried, if you must know.

Bruce knew his life would never be the same, that his nights would look less like the dark and gritty alleyways and tunnels, and more like you and him rocking your sweet girl to sleep as the sunset paints the sky pink, just for her.

All he needed in the world, was right here. All he needed to protect were his girls.

#Babygirlbatau #bruce Wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne writing #bale!bruce Wayne #bale!bruce Wayne x reader #bruce wayne fanfiction #bale!bruce #batman x reader

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navydoves · 3 months ago

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Blood Bag — Chapter 2

“Does it hurt?”

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✎ᝰ. summary. you’re a vampire, you need blood. sylus is the most powerful man on this side of the planet. he has what you need.

✎ᝰ. cw. you’re a vampire/sylus is a human, yearning sylus, depressed sylus, lonely sylus, luke and kieran are side characters, not unrequited but maybe a little, ANGSTY, erotica, lots of pining here bro, sylus is currently getting more pathetic! ✎ᝰ. wc. 6.7k

✎ᝰ. a/n. alright a little bit overdo for a second chapter but here it is! hoorrraaay! sorry for the delay, i’m still a student and i do this in my free time. if you have any questions about the story, i answer all dms so feel free. this is not proof read because i wanted to get it out asap but i will try n fix things as time goes on. hope this chapter is satisfactory to you all and if anyone wants to be tagged for chapter 3, lmk!

chapter 1

he couldn’t believe he was in this position right now, both literally and figuratively. cradling the soft hair of this vampire’s head and pushing them further into the crevice of his neck, encouraging them to suck blood that even his enemies didn’t have privilege of seeing.

that first sink of your fangs stung a lot more than any normal nicks he’d gotten, but his body didn’t flinch away. he barely made a face as the room filled with groaning and slurping noises, all coming from you and your eager, insatiable hunger.

he thought maybe a few minutes of sucking would be enough time—enough blood—to pull you away and finally start questioning you, but you were insistent. and sylus, he was generous.

you were pawing at his chest, gripping onto his shirt and anchoring yourself closer as you reveled in what was the best blood to ever cross your tongue. you didn’t have the mental capacity to think about how he wasn’t pulling you away, how he just sat there compliant in your feeding. even when blood dripped down his neck and collarbones he made no move to clean it. he just held you.

but that generosity is why you were able to survive, and why the two of you are here where you are now.

his voice is a low rumble, interrogative but not angry. “who are you?” sylus asks once you finally pull back. he mentally remarks how much better you look, health gracing your face in a way that wasn’t there minutes earlier. you turn your head. defiant? maybe. scared? he wouldn’t believe it. “speak up. you don’t get to choose when and how you’re fearful. you weren’t hesitant when you broke into here, you don’t get to be hesitant now.”

he hooks a finger under your chin and turns your face to face his. one of his eyes glow, you notice, but that wasn’t your issue right now. you say your name quietly and it causes an identifiable feeling to sprout in sylus’s chest. it seemed so familiar… but it wasn’t the name on the report.

he holds up the slightly crumpled paper to you, eyes piercing into yours as if daring you to lie. “and who is this?” he sees you avert your gaze again but before he could force your face back to him, you answer.

“me.”

it takes a few moments but an incredulous chuckle escapes sylus throat. “can you see why i’m a little confused then?” he rasps, frustration lining his voice. all this time. “what’s a dead girl from philos doing in my fucking house? ah sorry, supposed to be dead.” sylus leans in closer, his hot breath crowding your face and forcing you to back up into the corner. “and you fucking bit me. you bit me in hopes of turning the strongest man in the n109 zone into a vampire, but guess what sweet thing? it didn’t fucking work. i’ll bring your dead body back to whomever you work for and show them myself how much of a fucking failure they are. would you like that? because death is mercy compared to what they’ve done to you.”

the monologue does little to disturb you, sylus notices. you instead keep still with your eyes squinted and brows furrowed, like you were a little disgusted at him and his threats. but whatever you were feeling was irrelevant to sylus. how you got yourself here and why was the only thing on his mind.

he was near seething at this point. seeing the stress he’s dealt with over the last several weeks be given a face and a weakness was nirvana itself for him. all the ways he could make you suffer and make an example out of you; he could show all other nations just exactly how to deal with a vampire.

“silence huh? it’s fine, i can play the long game,” sylus grins. you were still unmoving but there was unspoken emotion in your eye. behind what seemed like disgust, you looked a bit defeated. and despite wanting to explore what you were hiding, sylus couldn’t bring him to stare at your eyes for too long. it was painful. it felt painful, like he knew those eyes and that pain too well.

sylus stands, grabs you by the nape of your cloak, and almost drags you out of the room. he was so sick and tired of this, he needed a break even if he did also need answers.

“luke, kieran,” sylus mumbles while stepping out of his office door, you stumbling behind him. “take her to security and confine her in a silver cage. any and every camera in there should be pointed at her. keep the lights low, i don’t want to kill her yet.”

the twins perk up seeing sylus and the strange, staggering girl. when they caught her she could barely walk or fight back, but now she was up on two feet.

“silver? lights?” luke mumbles, not believing the conclusion he was about to come to.

“vampire,” kieran finishes that thought telepathically.

both their faces were a little horrified-looking. a vampire? here? in their estate? the same string of questions that crossed sylus earlier was now being shared by the twins.

“wait but, h—“

sylus raises his hand and cuts kieran off. “i gave you orders, none of which say ‘ask sylus questions.’ take her there, do what i asked and then come back up. no interrogating, no torturing, nothing. you speak to me only.”

the twins exchange a glance and nod imperceptibly before moving toward you and hooking you tightly against their bodies with their arms. without question, without fuss, they stumble you to the elevator and give sylus one last concerned look before disappearing from the hall.

sylus stays still for several moments before grasping at his hair and groaning.

“fuck me.”

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“she… she bit you?” luke whispers.

kieran wasn’t able to even formulate words at the impossible scenario, but this was neither impossible nor a scenario, it was the reality.

“she did… twice,” sylus responds, his hands rubbing at his face. after weeks of high stress all he could do now was sit in his exhaustion and not even triumph in catching his prey. and sylus loved catching his prey. “but… i let her the second time. the first time, i don’t know how or when but she got to me but i was asleep. the second time was just now. she was dying and… i couldn’t let the vermin perish without knowing how she infiltrated the n109 zone and the estate.”

the twins stay uncharacteristically still while they absorbed sylus’s words. the quarantining and stalking of the house was finally being explained to them; a vampire under their noses this whole time.

“so then… boss are you…” luke continued, “are you… a vampire now?”

there was tense silence between the three. “no, i’m not. a dragon like me can’t be taken down so easily, but i do feel weaker.” he sighs, sitting up and looking to the ceiling. “not just physically, but mentally. like i’ve been duped and that i’ve gone soft. she got me in a weak spot i didn’t know i had, and i hate having weak spots.”

with his head angled up, kieran could see the fresh bite mark on sylus’s neck. it made him wince. “what’re you gonna do then?” he asks softly.

sylus gives the question a few moments of thought. torture was almost a guaranteed way to get anyone to talk, but he still wasn’t a fan of that idea even to a nuisance like you. your refusal to speak could mean an indefinite amount of things. as hypocritical as it was; maybe you were scared. or maybe you (rightfully) didn’t trust sylus, or you were still dying, or that you didn’t want to give up the name of the people you were working with. if you were with others anyway—that conclusion was one sylus came up with on his own. but how could you not? this couldn’t have been a one-woman-show.

“i don’t know…” sylus exhales, “i’m going to get what i need to out of her, but this entire thing is… more than complicated. i do know what we aren’t going to do, though.” the twins lean in a bit interested as sylus readjusts himself. “we aren’t going to torture her. we have to keep her at least stable. she can’t start withering away under our noses and all of the sudden, next day we walk in on a dead vampire in my house.”

luke glances down as if he didn’t really like the idea. “sounds like we’re treating her more like a guest and not an intruder,” he mumbles, “an intruder that tried to turn you, by the way.”

“luke,” sylus warns, “listen i don’t need the remarks, okay? i know… it’s not what you guys want but we can’t just kill her and… i just can’t bring myself to torture her. it’s never been my sort of play and it’s not now.”

another tense silence follows.

“so then…” kieran whispers, “how’re you gonna keep her ‘stable’?”

“as long as we keep the lights low and give her blood—“ sylus cuts himself off. fuck, blood. you need blood. you need blood to survive and he can’t just give you half-assed meals to eat. you’re a vampire, that’s the whole fucking issue here. “listen,” he continues, “let me worry about the logistics. i don’t want you two going near her until i deem it safe. god forbid you two get hurt in someway, it’ll be in my conscience until i die myself.”

the twins perk up slightly. “really? you’d care if we got hurt or died?” luke asks almost cheerfully. kieran simply looks at his brother to reprimand him.

“i’m not gonna entertain that question,” sylus gruffs. “all i ask of you two is for some space while i consider where to go from here. if i need your help, ill come to you, but for the most part, just go on about your duties like normal. is that understood?”

the twins look at each other and then back at sylus before giving him a slight nod of understanding. being asked to pretend like everything was normal when there was a vampire a few floors down was insanity to them, but they knew better than to fight their boss on this. sylus needed his time, and they trusted him to effectively handle this.

“alright, boss,” kieran sighs softly, “but if your condition gets any worse, tell us okay? we at least wanna be there for you. y’know… even if we can’t do anything about it.”

the twins slump slightly—kieran’s word came off a lot more solemn they he intended. boss wouldn’t die, right? they hoped boss was stronger than a few vampire bites. but that look on boss's face did not quell their anxieties. that look of pure exhaustion.

instead of fighting them on their insistence, sylus simply nods at the two, acknowledging their care for him even if he felt it unnecessary. he motions for them to leave his office and doesn’t bother wishing them a goodnight. the last thing on his mind was pleasantries.

alone, in his office, with nothing but his thoughts and an aching body affected by the vampire bite, sylus was unsure of what to do next. he had to talk to her, of course, but how to was the issue. another issue was just how to feed her.

former hostages, criminals, suspects, all that galore didn’t compare to this simple vampire. because at least with them, coaxing the truth with threats and humiliation came easily. humans were easy to crack, but vampires? maybe not this one.

when his eyes glance over it, sylus immediately goes back to the discarded death report on the side of the room. this was another thing he wasn’t sure how to interpret. was this another fake report? but no, you said it yourself, this was you. well this was supposed to be you. a human from philos.

staring at the paper would do him no justice, though, and the answers had to come directly from you otherwise he would find dead ends all day. so for the time being, he would just… be calm. the ache from the bite was still strumming through sylus’s veins and he needed it gone before he could make his way to you. no way was he gonna let you see your effect on him, he’d already been humiliated in your wake once.

sylus stands, moves over to the black and red encrusted mirror on the wall, and faces a man he no longer recognizes. today that man would become more of a stranger.

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clink, clank, clink, clank.

those were the sounds of sylus’s boots stepping down the stairs to the security room where you were kept away. he opted for the stairs and not the elevator to give himself time to… think, of course. he wasn’t stalling. he had no reason to… this is just some silly vampire that he could deal with. just another obstacle in his life that would make him stronger, coming out the end of it.

at the bottom of the stairs, he sighs. the air was already tense with the sound of generators and electricity humming throughout. he knew you were in there, he could see you vaguely from the door separating the stairs and the room. you were quiet as a mouse and still as a possum. he hoped what he had would change that, make you more lively to talk.

in one hand was a silver box filled with jars of animal blood that he hoped you would drink for food. in the other hand was a notepad and pen, something for you to use to write if you refused to verbally speak. if you could write at all.

it took him a few more moments of “thinking” before he decided to step into the room. his strides were long and calm, no doubt or hesitation in his movements. he knew better than to come off as anything but confident. he was confident and still all the more irritated at the situation.

outside of your silver cage he pulls a rogue wheely chair and sits on it quietly before setting his things down. he could see your face peeking out of your hood, scanning his lower half.

there’s a heavy silence between the two of you. it was understood that you weren’t going to speak first anyway, so the man across from you took that liberty.

“are you hungry?” sylus asks lowly, not concern in his voice but a neutral tone for a very simple question. as expected, you don’t answer. he reaches down to the silver box and clicks it open. one by one, he places the jars of blood in front of your cage, just out of your reach. “i have blood here, ready for you. i’ll give you some morsels… but your vow of silence will prevent me from doing so. you should understand it’s in your best interest to speak.”

no reply. he sees just slight interest in your very subtle movements, but nothing more. the jars are in eyeshot of your vision, but whether it be disinterest or defiance, you weren’t making any attempts at them.

sylus places the box down and picks up the pad and pen. he slides it through the slivers between bars around your cage, right where you can reach it. “if this vow of silence is so important to you,” he drones on, “then it’d be easier for you to write. either way, i’m the only one who can keep you alive now. you know how desperate you were for blood just yesterday, it wasn’t a fun feeling was it? starvation. so i’d advise you to communicate if you want to avoid that pain.”

sylus inches one of the jars to you with his foot, watching carefully how you react. for several moments you were perched the same—huddling at the farthest edge from him in your cloak, hiding your form and face from him. but in the next second, you were moving. with one snatch you took the jar from the other edge and just when sylus thought you were about to scarf it all down, you instead threw it to the side of the cage and smashed it into pieces. blood was now soaked onto the floor and dripping down the bars, some of it on your cloak.

from under your hood, sylus could see seething anger from your eyes. in the short time he’s known you, he’s seen you desperate, upset, fearful, disgusted, and now angry. the sudden violence took sylus aback for a moment, but he recovered quickly.

he scoffed. “throwing a fit now? i’m not here to talk morals with a vampire but i don’t know if you have the right to be angry when you’re the cause of all of your problems.” sylus tilts his head and taps the side of his cheek with a slow, pondering finger. “there goes one of your meals. i won’t be providing more so think rationally before you break another jar.”

sylus watches you tentatively now. you were so interesting and annoying all at the same time. he couldn’t let you starve to death, so his words were more-so puffery—somewhat lies. he couldn’t say that he was desperate for your answers because it gave you the power, and you’ve had enough power over him at this point.

he had to play his cards right. he couldn’t seem too soft, but he couldn’t threaten you too much because he wouldn’t be able to go through with threats. you’d catch onto his bluff real quick. if you were to break all the jars, what was he gonna do next? go back on his word and give you more? an unfortunately smart vampire like you would just continue using him.

but thankfully… he didn’t need to do all that overthinking.

“i don’t want this… fucking animal blood,” you grit out lowly.

for the first time, sylus was hearing your real, normal voice. not the voice that was dried up and begging for blood and not the meek one you used to point yourself out on the report. a full, hearty voice. a voice he… felt distantly familiar in his chest somewhere. but sylus tries not to let his surprise show.

“so, you’d rather starve?” he chuckles, “i’m fine with that. means i won’t feel guilty when you die cause it’ll be a death by suicide.”

he wasn’t fine with that.

“you’re not fine with that.”

sylus raises a brow. you pull your cloak back and let your true anger show in the very dim light of the security room. you still looked healthy and nourished, at least enough to give you this newfound energy you had. what a soft face for such a cruel creature.

“i don’t plan on starving,” you continue, “but i don’t plan on drinking animal blood. it has no nutritional value to me.”

another low laugh rips from sylus’s chest. “you think you have the right to be picky as well? may i remind you where you are and who you’re speaking to? this is the last sovereignty on earth to be so pompous. humor me then, how do you plan on surviving?”

a beat, then your voice. “sylus,” you whisper rather softly.

“huh?” sylus grumbles.

“that’s who i’m speaking to, but that’s also how im gonna survive. im gonna survive off of you. your blood.”

sylus takes a moment to just simply stare at you and take in your indignation before a small fit of laughter broke into him. it welled up from a few chuckles to a genuine and hearty sound from his chest, pure amusement and disbelief lacing every sound. you simply stare back, annoyed and somewhat unsure of what to make of the situation.

“i’m being serious.”

“i’m aware, and that’s why it’s funny,” sylus retorts. “you’re trying to use my own desperation against me like i’m feeble enough to just give into your demands. let me take a little guess. you want my blood so that in exchange, i get information out of you? yeah? not a chance.”

sylus would be lying if he said he didn’t already consider this deal. he figured that if there was any negotiation between you two, it would have something to do with him being generous with you. you had something he wanted; so despite you being the one in the cage, you were leading this discussion—and he didn’t like that.

“i’m not quite sure why you’re laughing like the idea is outlandish,” you respond with a slightly offended tone. “it’s not like you can’t take it. for the things i could tell you, a few pints of blood to hold me over is cheap. sylus, head of onichynus and overseer of the n109 zone, turning down a bargain that could uplift his sovereignty to even greater heights… because he can’t part with some blood? pathetic.”

sylus’s amusement quickly falters at your words. your words could be bluff or exaggerated, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. at the very least you had some insight on him and his sovereignty enough to speak with such familiarity. i mean, fuck, you made it into his estate—if anything you knew intimate details about his own personal life.

sylus tilts his head in irritation and bares his teeth slightly. “i’m sure you didn’t come all the way here to give me some sort of extraordinary intel out of the goodness of your heart. you broke in and bit me, not much of a conversation there.”

you smirk slightly. “it’s true, i came here for your blood. but i also didn’t come here to share my life story with you. i’m only negotiating now because i’ve been caught.”

blood? fuck, he was one step into the door now. a motive—he has some sort of motive as to why you’re here, but that answer of yours only begs more questions. why his blood specifically? it didn’t seem like you wanted it because of his status, but what other reason could you have.

“my blood?” sylus repeats mockingly. “surely a quick-witted, mouthy vermin like you could get her hands on any human that walks by. there are two healthy young men in my estate, blood surely fresher than mine. the n109 zone is filled with young vigilantes with blood surely more course than mine. and not to mention�� philos—if that is your birthplace—is populated by high-ranking officials and families, with blood surely sweeter than mine. and yet, you’ve chosen me? why have i been hexed?”

there’s a slight flicker of dejection in your expression that adds such a human element to you. every new emotion in your face feels so utterly familiar to sylus, it was starting to feel uncomfortable.

“i think you know why i chose you,” you whisper back.

“what?”

there was silence from you now. of course there was. you were still playing games with him and for him to play with you, it would cost him some blood. in the silence that ensues, sylus considers your words. what did he have that regular humans didn’t? apart from his status and power, what could make him a target for blood?

and then.

an idea hits him.

but it was… unfathomable.

he could almost feel the horns growing on the sides of his head, the cold scales prickling at his skin, the phantom tail moving behind him. that body that he once was was luxurious but also all the more hated. luke and kieran were born from a human woman. the vigilantes in the n109 zone were unreformed, outcasted humans from other nations. philos was regal, but not divine. their people and rulers were all human.

but sylus… sylus is a dragon.

or at least, was.

he furrows his brows and eyes you down in your cage. you meet his gaze with an equally challenging look. there was unspoken tension between you two, secrets that both of you were unsure how or if to unravel.

you broke the tension first.

“i need blood,” you whisper. “i’m getting hungry again and i wither away quickly. i don’t want whatever pigs blood you’ve brought. stop fighting me, just give me what i need.”

another short silence.

“i have every weapon you could imagine perfected in silver and stocked up in this very room,” sylus states very, very carefully. he gestures to the crates around them. “if i sense even the slightest bit of threat from you, i kill you with no hesitation. and i will do it in the most painful way possible.”

you simply look at him, resolute unshaken. you nod.

with no words to continue his threat, sylus reached into his jacket pocket and takes out a small knife foldable knife. he clicks it out and brings it to his palm for a cut before your voice stops him.

“no,” you jut in rather loudly, “i need it… from the source. it’s not as good otherwise.”

sylus opens his mouth to denounce that idea but your voice once again stops him. a small, almost pitiful, and unusually earnest, “please” that falls from your lips. he stills with the knife against his palm for a few more moments before clicking it back and putting it away. while at the beginning of all this, giving into your demands would’ve been humiliating, the idea of you knowing about his past is even more so. so now, it’s easy to unlock the door to your cage and gesture you to come to him.

and you, so as to not wear him out or risk your life, come to him slowly and quietly. once close, gently, you climb his lap and tilt your head into his neck. his scent was all too familiar to you, it almost made you sob right there, but your hunger was more pronounced.

the bite was a soft and almost imperceptible nick to sylus’s throat, followed by the sting of your sinking fangs.

the only thing sylus could do at this point was wait until you had your fill like he did when he first caught you. you weren’t as loud as the day before, though. instead of desperate slurping and groaning, you were quietly gulping with soft sighs to accompany it.

he felt quite humbled by letting this happen to him, but at this point, maybe it was too late for him to care that much.

sylus felt the crowd of your body against his as you sank in for more. he was unsure of what to do with his hands so, with a bit of resignation, he placed them on your hips and savored your familiar warmth against his body.

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two crow masks were discarded to the middle of the couch. luke and kieran faced each other on opposite ends of it.

“do you think he’ll be okay?” luke asks softly. him and his brother spent the last few hours after they put the vampire away, worrying and mulling the situation over.

“we’ve seen boss get through worse. he’ll be alright. there’s no reason to worry luke,” kieran responds trying to reassure. except, the worry between them didn’t let up one bit.

“but has he been through worse? forget conflicts and trade wars and everything else between the sovereignties. no one has gotten to boss this personally before. i mean… almost killing him? kieran…”

“luke,” kieran sighs softly, “you saw him. two vampire bites and he’s still holding up. i can’t think of anyone else who could do that. we can worry all we want but… but it’s not our place to do anything. boss won’t listen to our advice anyway.” kieran rubs his face and perches his chin on his palm. a soft sigh escapes him. “plus… he has his own weird way of caring for us. he won’t let us help ‘cause he worries we’ll be like… traumatized or something.”

luke chuckles just slightly, “at least he cares.”

the twins both laugh a little painfully at the slightly morbid humor. they meet eyes, their identical faces mirroring identical expressions of exhaustion.

“what’d’you think he’s doing now?” kieran asks.

“hm, probably threatening her with all his weapons to get a confession or something.” luke responds.

well it wasn’t going to be that difficult.

“does it hurt?” you ask softly while looking at sylus through the bedroom mirror. you were sat decorously at the small round table in the room, glancing over to sylus who was standing before the mirror and patching up the bite mark.

“doesn’t matter, don’t small talk me,” he responds straightly.

after a few more moments of ensuring the bandage patch was securely on, sylus strode to the small table where you were sat quietly. apart from your need for blood, there was unfortunately nothing odd about you. the politeness was strange. he doesn’t waste any time.

“how did you get in here?” sylus presses.

you glance around, a little unsure of how exactly to answer this. “well, you. you told me,” you respond.

sylus knits his brows together and almost laughs. he shakes his head incredulously. “no i didn’t. how did you get in here?” he repeats.

“the bar,” you state simply. “you were at a bar a about a week ago. you were downing shots and racking up a tab. first ten or so it was my coworker who served you, then it was me. unprovoked, you started complaining about the renovations of your home. i simply continued asking questions and you… well you essentially told me the security was off until they were done. i asked you at some point how you’d get home so drunk and you told me the numbers of your chauffeurs. once you were finished with your drinks, i offered to call them and went into the back, got my male coworker to do it, and took off before the renovations were done. i made it just before you did and overheard your… twins? talking about their bedrooms on the fifth floor. so i took a chance and went up there to also find your room, where i hid until you came back home.”

the monologue of your story leaves sylus absolutely bewildered. it was the first time he really was showing something genuine to you. his face was crumpled up in some sort of upset and disbelief, and despite his racing thoughts, he couldn’t really say anything. you both look at each other in practiced silence. what could he make of this?

“you were plotting against me? working for that bar knowing i frequented it to get me at my most vulnerable,” sylus laughs humorlessly, “and you found a blessing just that day.”

you shake your head. “that’s only half true. i wasn’t working there knowing you frequented it. in fact i’d only been there a week before you showed up. but i did take advantage of you and your situation once i had the chance.”

yet another tense silence. sylus couldn’t really believe how direct and open you were being. everything you said seemed honest to him, a man who’d dealt with dishonesty from criminals his whole life. but what sylus couldn’t believe more-so was how much of an idiot he had been. his loose lips and foggy mind haphazardly put him and the twins in danger and he couldn’t even be proud to finally figure out some of the mystery.

“but that doesn’t make sense,” he grits, “you were in the n109 zone as a vampire? we have border security checks for threats. are there fucking more of you?”

he notices how you hesitate to answer. the last thing he needed was for you to say there was some vampire affiliated gang in his sovereignty.

“no, not that i know of,” you respond softly. “i came to the n109 zone a long, long time ago. when i first turned, that is. i came from philos. the outbreak there was bad and there was worldwide panic due to vampirism. after i got bitten, i escaped because i knew if anyone found out i’d be staked immediately. the n109 zone seemed the safest because of its reputation of taking in outcasts. no one would question me here, everyone minds their business. so i’ve lived here for the last… i guess many decades.”

“many decades?” sylus repeats. the disgruntled expression on his face couldn’t properly portray the mess that was his mind. it felt like week after week for the past almost month, he’d been beaten down with a stick and left to lay in exhaustion. his worldview was constantly changing.

“have you killed?!” he barks. “tell me, have you killed anyone for blood?! you’ve killed haven’t you? you’ve gone this many years living under the radar, you’ve surely killed—“

“i haven’t!” you yell, stopping sylus’s growing anger. “i haven’t! i haven’t at all. i’ve been barely getting by with animal blood. fucking… killing rats in alleyways and stray cats and dogs… stuff like that. i’ve rationed frugally, okay? stake me for trying to fucking live, but i’ve never hurt anyone.”

“how do i know that’s true?” sylus breathes out. there’s his eye, glowing again and really boring into you.

“well, i guess you don’t. but maybe you should. this is your nation after all, these are your people after all. if i really did kill someone, maybe you should’ve been fucking aware of it like a good leader. but you don’t know about killings because i didn’t kill. i hid so well and adapted to your society so perfectly that to you and to everyone else, i was human. so don’t go fucking pointing fingers at me saying i did shit i didn’t.”

sylus could feel his heart beating harder now. he was upset at you but more-so himself. but during all these decades, has he stumbled upon you? has he seen your face and heard your voice that now he thinks—

“is that why i recognize you?”

the question immediately shuts you up. he sees you move back into the chair and immediately relinquish any type of aggravation you had. you looked hurt, but he didn’t understand why.

“no… no. i’ve always hid away from you. i made sure i never saw you in person and you never saw me.” you whisper. you could feel a bitter ache in your stomach. he didn’t remember you.

sylus also backs down, sitting back in his chair.

“i need you to answer this again, and i want an honest answer,” he states firmly. “why my blood?”

a long, impending silence follows. sylus is patient. you are worried.

“dragon’s blood. your blood is more potent than any human’s. after decades of living on scraps… i needed it. when i saw the opportunity at the bar i took it, and every single bite afterward felt so, so fucking good. like nothing i’ve ever tasted before. you don’t even understand.”

dragon’s blood.

it was true that sylus was a human now, but his dragon heritage was still apart of him. it was quite literally in his blood, but that heritage was always kept a secret. sylus wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t have that boyish fear of being judged. after all, it has been instilled in him for years. outcasted as a baby dragon to a full grown one, there wasn’t a day where he didn’t face ridicule and torture for being what he was. he wasn’t cruel, but people made him cruel. only faintly did he know happiness and love brought upon a person he can no longer make out.

“why… how… do you know about my…?” sylus trails off. he hasn’t talked about his past in literal eons, and now the topic of this conversation was getting to him. similar to you, there wasn’t bitter ache within him.

“they talked about you in philos, told tales and stories about evil dragons and teach them to the kids, even. i learned about it when i was young. they never specify you, though. i just… um… happen to know.” your whispered truth was only half the truth. you couldn’t bare to be fully honest.

“…do you believe them?” sylus whispers. his eyes were squinted down at the table and searching for an answer in the air. “the stories… tales.”

you shake your head gently. “no. i don’t. and it’s not because i’ve learned differently or something. i just never have.”

sylus takes a moment to consider your words and lift his head back up. this sort of dejection was unfamiliar him, but you seemed to quell that feeling. he’s never met someone accepting of what he was. maybe it was because that disgusting form with horns and tail wasn’t before you now, but he’d take anything.

“why do you want to live?” sylus asks simply. that tired, dull look was back.

you curl your lip in thought. “because… i deserve to? i haven’t hurt anyone. i’ve lived a quiet life. i’ve paid my dues and my sins with my human life. i may be immortal but i will die one day. i’ll choose when that day is. it’s not now.”

i don’t want to be reborn. i don’t want to be reborn.

sylus lets out a small breath of surrender. he couldn’t fight you on this anymore. even with the lingering confusion in his head, you’ve answered most of his questions. a week ago, he’d imagine this moment where he finally reached the end of this mystery to be triumphant and empowering.

but he felt none of that right now. he felt a little empty. unrecognizable. like his weaknesses are loud to everyone around him.

the fog clouds him and through it he can hear your voice.

“sylus,” you whisper.

he looks to you, patient.

“can i have more blood?”

silently, he pushes out his chair and nods.

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“do you think he’s in there?” luke whisper shouts to his brother. they were both huddled at the end of the hallway where the bedrooms were.

“i mean,” kieran whisper shouts back, “we’ve checked his office, the living rooms, the kitchens, the security room, he wasn’t anywhere there. this is the last place.”

“do you think something happened, kieran? i mean that damn vampire girl wasn’t in her cage!”

kieran sighs. “no, i don’t. he’s probably out at base with her or something. we never know what’s going on in his mind, he’s probably out handling this his own way.”

luke exhales in defeat. his brother was right, boss did never clue them in on his plans unless they were directly needed. he always took care of things in a very specific way that only he knew how to do. this whole situation was only worrying them because they did not like the idea of a vampire in their estate. they even made it a routine to check for bites and nicks on their bodies before and after bed, just to be sure.

“okay,” luke stands straight, “let’s just go check his bedroom and we’ll go back to our rooms before he gets mad at us for bothering him. if he’s in there anyway.”

kieran nods at his brother. the two very quietly scuffle down the hall until they were right by sylus’s bedroom door. up until this point, they were next to convinced that he wasn’t in the estate. but that was until they heard noises from behind the door.

voices, but not speech.

one of which was definitely sylus’s but the other of which was unrecognizable. they tense but decide to knock anyway. the sound is soft and non-intrusive, but it did nothing. no one came to the door and the noises didn’t stop.

kieran reaches out to knock again but luke stops him at the wrist. “let’s just…” he trails off while reaching for the doorknob, “go in.”

kieran was unsure but nods anyway. slowly, they open the door all the way in and take a moment to understand the sight they were met with.

you, the girl they recognized as the vampire, perched on sylus’s lap on the bed with your teeth sunk into his neck and sucking like it was your last meal. sylus, their boss, gently petting your head and giving you infrequent pecks to the cheek. it didn’t take long for everyone in the room to stop dead in their tracks and notice what was happening.

they froze. sylus froze. you froze.

“b-boss?”

tl: @seventeen-x , @webshooterrr9 , @theycallmesoup , @satansdaughter123 , @tyasmaple , @jaynawayna , @jadeymeciela , @namjooningera , @phisen , @eepamaawo , @lolaisoffline

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sunarryn · 3 months ago

Text

DP X Marvel #2

The Phantom Affair started as a tweet.

One blurry photo. Midtown High’s parking lot. Danny Fenton and Peter Parker sitting shoulder to shoulder on the curb, sharing a burrito, looking like two tired teenage boys who had absolutely trauma bonded over AP Physics and probably something illegal involving lasers. Danny had one arm lazily slung over Peter’s shoulder. Peter, red-faced, was clearly mid-whine.

The caption?

“FENTON-PARKER IS REAL. MY GAY NERD SONS. I WILL FIGHT FOR THEM.”

And from there, it spiraled.

Danny was already public knowledge. After “Phantom Planet,” the entire world knew the pale kid from Amity Park was Phantom—half-ghost superhero, savior of Earth, general menace with bad hair. What they didn’t know was that Peter Parker, sweet, awkward Midtown science student with tragic eyebags and a mild vitamin D deficiency, was also Spider-Man.

But what the public did know was this:

1. Phantom and Spider-Man were attached at the hip. Fighting together. Flying together. Flirting mid-battle.

2. Peter Parker and Danny Fenton were inseparable. Studying together. Walking to school together. Literally sharing a dorm, thanks to Tony Stark.

3. Danny Fenton and Phantom were the same person.

4. Peter Parker and Spider-Man were not the same person.

Cue the chaos.

It didn’t help that Danny and Spider-Man were caught mid-air in a very compromising position—Danny flying backwards with his arms full of Spidey, who was clearly laughing like a Disney princess while twirling his web around Danny’s waist like a lasso. It was broadcasted live during a ghost attack in Queens. The internet lit up like the Fourth of July.

“DANNY FENTON-PHANTOM CAUGHT CHEATING ON BOYFRIEND PETER PARKER WITH SPIDER-MAN?”

“LOVE TRIANGLE OF THE CENTURY: GHOST, SPIDER, AND THE BOY NEXT DOOR”

“WHO DOES DANNY FENTON LOVE MORE?” with a dramatic black-and-white photo collage set to Lana Del Rey.

Thus began: The Phantom Affair.

The world divided into two camps.

Team Parker: loyal, nerdy, wears mismatched socks. Probably bakes. The “true love” since high school.

Team Spider: hot, athletic, mysterious. Definitely leaves hickeys and emotional damage.

The hashtags trended hourly.

#GhostSpider vs #FentonParker

#HeBelongsWithSpidey vs #PeterHasHisHeart

#LetThemAllDateEachOtherHonestly

Talk shows invited “relationship experts” to weigh in on the psychology of dating a ghost and/or a superhero. Morning news anchors were screaming about betrayal and interspecies romance. One tabloid cover showed a badly photoshopped image of Phantom crying while Peter and Spider-Man had a slap fight in the background.

BuzzFeed did a quiz:

“Are You Team Parker or Team Spider?”

Danny took it. He got “Needs Therapy.”

He called Jazz.

At Midtown, things were worse.

Posters started showing up in the halls.

• “FENTON, PICK A SIDE.”

• “SPIDER IS JUST A PHASE.”

• “PARKER DESERVES BETTER.”

• A single one that just said: “POLYAMORY IS VALID.”

Peter accidentally walked into a student-organized debate club arguing which one of them had better chemistry with Danny. One girl tried to defend Spider-Man by referencing the velocity of Danny’s blush during live battles.

“HE GLOWED, MRS. WARREN. GLOWED.”

Peter screamed into his locker and left.

Meanwhile, Tony was having the time of his life.

“I’ve never seen anything so ridiculous!” He laughed, kicking back in the Tower and flipping through Twitter threads titled things like Body Language Analysis of Phantom When Standing Next to Peter vs. Spider-Man. “This is better than Twilight. This is fanfiction-level drama.”

Happy groaned. “Shouldn’t we, like, fix this?”

“No.” Tony said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “We let it grow.”

Back at school, Danny wasn’t helping.

“Wait, wait…” He said during lunch, twirling spaghetti and pretending not to notice the entire cafeteria watching him. “So they think I’m dating Peter and Spider-Man?”

Peter looked like he wanted to die. “Yes, Danny. That’s the problem.”

Danny grinned. “They think I’m a ghost with two boyfriends.”

“You are a ghost with two boyfriends. The boyfriends are just the same person.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“It’s a mental breakdown.”

Someone across the room yelled, “TELL PETER THE TRUTH, YOU COWARD!” and threw a napkin. Peter caught it mid-air like a ninja. He deserved a Grammy for Best Performance in a Romantic Crisis.

Things hit a boiling point during the Midtown Spring Fling.

Danny showed up in a black suit with green trim. Peter, flustered and adorable, wore a bowtie. The minute they walked in, the room exploded in flash photography. Someone was live-streaming.

“PARKER’S HERE. WITH FENTON. WHERE’S SPIDER-MAN?”

Two hours into the night, the lights flickered. Green. Eerie.

Ghosts. Obviously.

Danny went full Phantom in five seconds flat, eyes glowing, hair flaring, looking like the cover of a paranormal romance novel. He turned to Peter, who sighed, yanked his phone out, and whispered, “Happy’s gonna kill me,” before vanishing into the crowd.

And then ten minutes later—

Spider-Man.

Swung in through the ceiling. Landing in a crouch. Doing a dramatic flip off the refreshment table.

People lost their minds.

“HE’S HERE! SPIDEY’S HERE!”

“THEY’RE GONNA FIGHT!”

“OR KISS!”

What followed was twenty solid minutes of Danny and Spider-Man fighting ghosts back-to-back while whispering furiously to each other like a married couple mid-argument.

“Why did you swing in like that?!”

“You LEFT me to deal with the punch bowl poltergeist!”

“You were doing fine!”

“I was sticky!”

“Well I’m always sticky!”

When the fight ended, they stood in the middle of the gym. Dusty. Glowing. Glorious.

Someone yelled, “KISS HIM, SPIDEY!”

Danny blushed a bright green.

Spider-Man waved awkwardly and ran.

The next morning, the internet exploded.

“Phantom Fights For Love: Team Spider Dominates With Surprise Appearance.”

“Peter Parker Was There Too. Sad.”

The memes were relentless. Edits. Fanart. POVs. Dramatic TikTok transitions.

One viral post:

“Fenton with Parker in the library vs Phantom with Spider-Man mid-battle. Choose your fighter.”

Danny texted Peter at 2am:

Danny: I love you. You. Just you. All of you. The nerd. The spider. The panic. The allergies.

Peter:

Danny:

Peter: … even the spider thighs?

Danny: Especially the spider thighs.

Peter: okay. okay I forgive you.

Danny: for what?

Peter: I don’t know but everyone keeps saying you cheated on me with me and I’m upset about it.

Eventually, they cracked. At a press event where both Phantom and Spider-Man were invited—by Tony, obviously—Peter accidentally yanked his mask off in a moment of frustration while yelling, “I AM ALSO PETER PARKER AND I AM DATING DANNY FENTON-PHANTOM. THERE IS NO LOVE TRIANGLE. WE ARE JUST TWO DUMB BOYFRIENDS WITH IDENTITY ISSUES.”

Danny, in the background, raised his hand. “Can we still sell the merch though?”

The world imploded. Again.

People were angry. People were delighted. Tumblr rejoiced. Twitter died. A new hashtag was born.

#PhantomArachnid

BuzzFeed did a follow-up quiz:

“Which Version of Peter Parker Are You?”

Tony sold limited edition plushies. They sold out in three minutes.

But in the middle of it all, in between the media frenzy and the fandom wars and the paparazzi hiding in the trees, Peter and Danny sat on a rooftop eating pizza.

Just them. No secrets. No masks.

Peter leaned into Danny’s shoulder and sighed. “We really should’ve told people earlier.”

Danny shrugged, mouth full. “I don’t know. I kind of liked being in a love triangle with you and you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Danny kissed his cheek. “Yeah. But I’m your impossible.”

And somewhere, miles away, Tony high-fived himself.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #peter parker #tony stark #spiderman #spider man #dp x marvel #marvel mcu #marvel #mcu #mcu fandom #mcu fanfiction #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom fandom #spiderman fanfiction

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dreamauri · 3 months ago

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♪ — 𝗦𝗨𝗡 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗗 carlos sainz jr. x fem! girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . having a lazy day with your boyfriend, laying in the sun. it's a soft, peaceful moment, but you have to keep yourself entertained somehow

( general master list | more of carlos sainz ) ( requests )

The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a warm glow over the two of you. The couch beneath you was soft, nestled perfectly in the open air of the terrace, where a light breeze carried the scent of summer. Carlos sat back against the cushions, legs stretched out, his fingers mindlessly threading through your hair as your head rested in his lap.

His touch was slow, lazy, affectionate—the kind of absentminded adoration that made your heart melt. You could tell he wasn’t even thinking about it, just following the rhythm of the moment, his other hand resting idly on his stomach. His eyes were closed, face tilted toward the sun, utterly at peace.

Then, without warning, his fingers wandered, and instead of gliding through your hair, one prodded right into your mouth.

Your reaction was instant—your teeth closing gently around the unsuspecting digit, a playful nip that had Carlos yelping.

“Ay!” he exclaimed, his whole body jolting as he snatched his hand back, shaking it dramatically like you had actually wounded him. His brown eyes snapped open, fixing you with an exaggerated glare. “Did you just bite me?”

You merely grinned up at him, unrepentant, the corners of your lips curving mischievously. The warmth in your gaze softened whatever protest he was about to make, and instead, Carlos let out a sigh—one of those fond, amused ones that always made your chest tighten with affection.

Shaking his head, he waved a finger at you, a silent warning, but the way his lips twitched betrayed him. Then, before you could react, he leaned down, his palm cradling your cheek, thumb stroking over your skin as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

You hummed happily, your hand coming up to cover his, holding it against your face as you nuzzled into his touch. His fingers, warm and calloused, curled gently against your skin, anchoring you in the moment.

Carlos pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, a lazy smile dancing on his lips. “No more biting,” he murmured, but his tone lacked any real warning.

You smirked. “No promises.”

His laugh was low and soft, and he shook his head again, dropping another kiss to your nose before settling back, his fingers immediately finding your hair once more.

The sun kept shining, the breeze kept blowing, and with Carlos beside you, the whole world felt perfectly still.

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dippindaz · 3 months ago

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AHS Evan Peters' Character Headcanons

Some general relationship HCs for Tate, Kit, Jimmy, Kyle, James, and Kai. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Mentions of deaths (Not major character), disappearances, manipulations, all the expected with these characters. She/her pronouns used.

Tate Langdon

Tate is an emotional storm disguised as a soft boy. He clings to you like you’re the last good thing in his twisted little world. And in his eyes? You are.

He’s deeply romantic—but it’s the kind of romance that’s obsessive and intense. He’ll draw you, write poems, leave stolen flowers on your bed, and whisper lyrics from The Cure in your ear.

Touch-starved and clingy AF. He always wants to be close—laying his head in your lap, sleeping curled up beside you, holding your hand like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

Jealous and possessive. Big time. If he thinks someone else is into you, he’ll either get sulky and distant or go full chaotic and... well, you know how Tate can get.

He doesn’t always understand how to be good, but he tries for you. When you pull him back from the edge, when you forgive him after his darker moments—it means everything. He starts believing maybe he can be more than his worst day.

As a ghost, he literally can’t leave the house. So if you're living there? You’re his whole universe. He romanticizes every mundane moment—making you breakfast, watching movies, lying on the floor talking about the stars through the ceiling.

Warning: He's charming and damaged. Loving Tate means dealing with the heavy, haunted parts. But if you choose to stay? He will love you like you're his only salvation. And maybe you are.

Kit Walker

Kit is a quiet protector. He doesn’t always say much, but his actions speak volumes. He’d fix things around the house, make sure you’re eating well, keep a hand on your back when you walk into town together—little things that say “you’re safe with me.”

He’s incredibly emotionally intelligent, especially after everything he’s been through. He listens, remembers the little things, and knows how to comfort you without needing to ask what’s wrong.

Expect tender domestic moments—him cooking you breakfast while the kids run around, dancing to a record playing softly in the living room, sneaking kisses between chores.

He’s been through trauma, and it makes him fiercely loyal. You’re one of the few constants in his life, and he never takes that for granted. He tells you he loves you often—almost like he’s afraid he might not get another chance.

Kit would 100% trust you with his kids. Seeing you bond with them would probably be the moment he realizes just how deep his feelings run.

Very soft-spoken but intense. When he looks at you, it’s like he’s seeing everything good the world has to offer. It can be overwhelming in the best way.

Jimmy Darling

Jimmy’s love is rough around the edges. He doesn’t always know how to express what he’s feeling, but it’s always there—in the way he squeezes your hand, stands a little too close when someone’s bothering you, or gets grumpy when you’re not around.

He’s got a temper, but he’s working on it. You’re one of the only people who can calm him down with a word or a touch.

He’d be very self-conscious at first, especially about his hands. But once he trusts you, he lets you hold them without hesitation—and that alone is a huge deal for him.

He wants to show you off, even if he pretends not to. If you’re out in town, he walks with his head high and keeps you close. If anyone looks at you wrong, he's got a problem with them.

You’d be a major emotional anchor for him. Someone who reminds him that there’s good in the world, and that he’s worthy of being loved—without condition or fear.

There’s a deep vulnerability under his bravado. In quiet moments, he’d open up about his fears, his past, and the pain he carries. And when you comfort him? He melts. That’s when you see the softest side of Jimmy.

Kyle Spencer

Kyle is like a shattered mirror slowly putting itself back together. He's confused, scared, and overwhelmed—but when you speak to him, it’s like the fog lifts.

Super affectionate in a wordless, almost animalistic way at first. Lots of cuddling, head-on-your-shoulder moments, and grabbing your hand when he feels anxious.

He finds comfort in your voice. Even if he doesn’t understand all the words, the tone, the rhythm—it’s grounding. He’ll fall asleep with his head in your lap while you read or hum softly.

As he heals and regains more of himself, he becomes incredibly protective. You were kind to him when everyone else saw a monster. He’d do anything to keep you safe.

He struggles with guilt and shame. About what happened to him, what he’s become, what he’s done. When you tell him he’s still human—still worthy of love—it hits him so hard, he sometimes cries.

He’s very affectionate. Hugs, kisses on your cheek, leaning into you constantly, resting his hand on your leg. He needs the reassurance of being close to you.

Your relationship is built on trust, patience, and small victories. Teaching him how to cook again, laughing when he gets flour on his face, helping him read books he used to love—it’s all about rebuilding, together.

James Patrick March

James is the definition of old-school courtship—with a sinister edge. He’d spoil you with luxury, call you “darling” or “love,” and insist on wining and dining you in style.

He is obsessively protective. Once he sets his eyes on you, that’s it. He treats you like a priceless possession, always close, always watched (sometimes literally—he’s got spy holes in the walls, babe).

Very dramatic with his affection. Roses delivered every morning, handwritten notes sealed with wax, spontaneous declarations of love in front of horrified guests. The man has no chill.

He’s 100% the jealous type. If someone even breathes near you wrong, they’re disappearing into the walls of the Cortez. You might not even realize he’s done anything—until you notice how quiet the halls get.

Morally? Terrible. Emotionally? Surprisingly devoted. James believes in forever—even after death. You’re not just a lover, you’re part of his legacy now.

If you’re not into the whole murder thing, he’ll either “hide” it from you in a disturbingly condescending way, or try to “teach” you to appreciate it like he does. Either way, he’s not letting you leave. Ever.

Kai Anderson

Kai is magnetic, intense, and deeply manipulative—but if you’re someone he actually respects, the dynamic shifts. You become his grounding force, the one person who sees through his madness.

He constantly tests your loyalty. Little comments to see how you react, small setups to watch your choices. It’s exhausting sometimes, but when you pass? The praise is overwhelming. He’ll act like you’re his queen, his muse, his “chosen one.”

Physically affectionate, in a possessive way. An arm always around your shoulder, a hand on your thigh during “meetings,” brushing your hair behind your ear when you're upset—it’s both comforting and slightly unnerving.

He needs validation like air. If you compliment him or show him admiration, he lights up—but if you challenge him? Get ready for a full philosophical debate at 3 AM.

Surprisingly vulnerable with you. Late at night, when the followers are gone and the masks are off, he’ll talk to you about fear, loneliness, and his belief that the world is crumbling—and how only the two of you can fix it.

You might not agree with everything he says or does, but you understand the broken boy beneath the revolution. And that’s what keeps you from walking away (even if you should).

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