#dark readers only

[powerful-niya]

Clash Of Possession |

Dark Naruhina Fanfic

Naruhina Month 2023: Yakuza AU & Evil AU

||Available On: Wattpad • AO3||

— ☯The Heiress & The Demon Lord

— ☯Character Mood-Boards | Naruto & Hinata

Summary: In the heart of the yakuza underworld of Tokyo, the passing of Hiashi, the leader of the Hyūga clan, does more than just break Hinata's heart, but it exposes her to vulnerability.

Seizing the opportunity, the ruthless Naruto, Uzumaki clan leader, targets not only the conquest of the Hyūga clan but also wishes to claim Hinata as his most prized possession, no matter the cost.

General Tags |

☯ Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Dark Themes, Clan Rivals, Clan Leaders, Uzumaki Clan, Hyūga Clan, War, Chakra Use, Demon/Human, Dark Naruto, Obsession, Possession, Gore, Blood & Violence, Murder, Suggestive Language, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Marriage Through Dictatorship, Tragedy, Grief, Loss, Major Character Death, Japanese/Japanese Culture, NSFW Themes, Dubcon, Sexual Coercion, Dom/Sub, Smoking, Sexist Slurs, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Nhmonth, Nhmonth23. Additional Tags Inside Fic.

Chapter Index |

☯Introduction (紹介): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 1k.

☯Arc 1: In The Shadow Of The Hyūga

☯Part 1 (第一部): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 7.8k.

☯Part 2 (第二部): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 13k.

☯Part 3 (第三部): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 16.3k.

☯Part 4 (第四部): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 10.5k.

☯Part 5 (第五部): Ao3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 14.6k

Support |

— (⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆)

[dreamyblanket]

Yearning from the nothing dimension [rambling in tags ^^]

[jane-the-good]

SYLUS: letting go

WORD COUNT: 3.8K

SUMMARY: You're really upset with Sylus, and he reassures you that everything will be okay and you both will get through it

TAGS: smut, angst, fluff, Sylus loves to praise ♡

WARNING: smut, oral sex, mentions of throw up

AO3 sylus masterlist

The mission is over. The Wanderer lies in ruins, nothing more than a smattering of dust at your feet. And yet, even as the weight of victory settles over you, something else lingers—something dark, something clawing, something you don’t want to name.

The air is heavy, thick with the kind of silence that precedes a storm. It’s the silence of two people bound by something deeper than fate, something older than memory. Something that has bled into every life before this one and will stain every life after.

You slam the door behind you, the force rattling the marble floor, but it does nothing to shake the feeling that festers inside. Your chest rises and falls with the remnants of adrenaline, your skin still buzzing with the memory of battle. But beneath it, beneath the heat of combat and the sharp edge of exhaustion, there is anger—raw and unrelenting.

You were ready. The moment had been yours. Your blade had been aimed, your hands steady, your soul set. The final strike should have been yours to deliver, the last act of vengeance to carve its name into history through your hands alone. But he had taken it from you. Again.

Sylus, with his unshakable presence, with the weight of his choices pressing into yours, had stepped in like he always does. As if he knows better. As if you need him to protect you.

But you don’t.

Not from this. Not from yourself.

You didn’t need to be the one to kill the Wanderer, but you wanted to be the one to end it. To be the one to make the choice, to claim the closure. That should have been yours. This wasn’t just about now. This was about lifetimes—about all the lives that had come before, all the suffering that had accumulated in the rusted chains around your soul.

Revenge was stitched into your being, woven so deeply into your existence that you couldn’t untangle yourself from it even if you desperately wanted to. And you don’t.

But Sylus? He doesn’t get to decide for you. He doesn’t get to steal this from you just because he cares.

The shower doesn’t wash away the anger. It only sharpens it, hones it into something colder, something more precise. You let the water scald your skin, let it turn your breath ragged, but it does nothing to quiet the war raging inside you.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable, the same implacable calm armor wrapped around him. It’s always been like this with him—always a fortress, always untouchable in ways you will never be. His dark eyes track your every movement, unwavering, unflinching.

On the nightstand: soup, tea, medicine.

Your heart twists violently.

You don’t want this. Not from him.

Not from the man who has killed before. Not from the man you shouldn’t trust, shouldn’t want, shouldn’t love.

But you do.

And that love is centuries deep, carved out of blood and sorrow, built on foundations of ruin and regret. It is the kind of love that is a wound as much as it is a salvation. The kind of love that is a trap, a noose, a promise that neither of you will ever break free from.

And yet, despite everything, despite him, despite you, Sylus does this.

Soft things.

Kind things.

Things he shouldn’t be doing because he shouldn’t be this way. He’s a criminal. A murderer. A man who has bathed in blood, who has ruined lives, who should not know how to be gentle.

You stare at the nightstand, then at him, and the words that leave your lips are sharp, jagged, broken.

“I didn’t need you to step in for me, Sylus.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. He doesn’t rise to your anger, doesn’t flinch at the venom in your voice. He just watches you, as if he’s waiting for you to understand something you refuse to see.

And that only makes you hate him more.

He doesn’t flinch. He never does. “I wasn’t stepping in,” he says, voice rich and steady, the kind of voice that uses silk as threads—too smooth, too sure. “I was saving your life.”

The words are simple, but they crack something inside you, something you don’t want to name.

You want to snap back. To tell him you can save your own life. That you didn’t need him, or his 8 spindly legs, that you could have finished the job. That his hands, the same ones that have shattered bone, have no right to hold onto yours.

But the words don’t come. They catch somewhere deep in your throat, tangled in a history that neither of you can rewrite.

The tension is suffocating. It stretches, pulls, until your breath feels too tight in your chest. And when you finally move, it’s not to lash out, but to sink onto the bed beside him, stiff and sharp-edged, keeping distance between your bodies even as your soul aches for something closer.

“I had it under control.” The words sound hollow even to you.

“Is that so?” His voice is insulated with cotton and fiberglass, soft but edged with something unyielding. “You were thrown into a wall so hard you threw up on the spot. You didn’t look like you had very much control.”

You wince. The memory slams into you harder than you’d like. The Wanderer had been faster, stronger. You had barely managed to stay standing, let alone finish the fight. You remember the way you watched the ground as it spun, the way your legs had nearly given out—until his hands steadied you. Until his presence anchored you.

"You were swaying on your feet," Sylus continues, gaze unreadable. "I wasn’t going to let you get yourself killed. Not when we’re in this together."

The words cut deeper than you want them to. Not because they’re wrong, but because they hold a weight you can’t deny. Because part of you—some foolish, aching part—wants to believe them.

But he shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be helping you.

You shouldn’t want him to.

In a mantra you repeat: His hands are stained, his heart is entirely twisted and everything he’s done should make you hate him. And yet, against every ounce of reason, you don’t. You never have.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, voice quieter than you’d like. “I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”

Sylus exhales slowly, measuring his response. And then, his fingers brush against the back of your neck—not to restrain, not to control, just there, steady, grounding.

“I know,” he says simply. His voice is calm, unreadable, but underneath it, there’s something softer. Something that makes it worse. “But you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Your chest tightens. You’ve spent lifetimes fighting, burning, chasing vengeance because it’s the powerful enough to tether you to this world.

“I didn’t want to take that moment from you.” His voice is quiet now, edged with something you can’t place. “It was yours. But I have more experience with this kind of thing. And I’m glad you don’t.”

That makes you pause.

He presses his lips together, as if weighing his next words. “That means you haven’t had to be.”

There it is again. That unbearable weight in his voice, that quiet sorrow that makes your stomach knot. He doesn’t just see you—he knows you. He knows what you’ve lost, what you’ve suffered. And he still wants to keep you from sinking as deep as he has.

“I didn’t do it because I think you’re weak.” His voice is steady, certain. “I did it because you matter more to me than whatever point you were trying to prove.”

A tether, somewhere lost within you, snaps.

He steps back then, giving you space, but his presence lingers.

“Next time, don’t waste time feeling like you have to match me,” he says. “You have nothing to prove.”

His words settle at your feet, firm and unshakable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, and this time, the words carry weight. “I didn’t want to be so stubborn. I know you were trying to help.”

For the first time, the teasing glint in his eyes softens. Just a little. He brushes his fingers against your hand, a quiet gesture, but enough.

“I know you hate it,” he murmurs, voice almost gentle. “But sometimes, we need help.”

He pushes the soup and tea toward you. A silent insistence. A small offering of care.

“Drink this.” His voice is softer now, but unrelenting. “Let me take care of you.”

And for once, you don’t have the strength to argue.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the cup, but exhaustion makes the choice for you. You lift it, let the warmth be what it is, though you don’t drink just yet.

“The twins are your help, hm?” you murmur, almost as if reminding him.

“They’re supposed to be.” A shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And they do their job well.” His gaze flickers over you—not judging, only seeing. “Most of the time.”

“And Mephisto.”

Sylus exhales through his nose. “Mephisto hardly counts as someone to lean on.”

You glance over your shoulder. “Sylus,” you whisper, just barely audible. “He can hear you.”

He chuckles low, warm and familiar. A silent understanding, a truce.

Once the soup is gone, Sylus finally leaves to shower. When he returns, you’re already asleep, curled up on the bed. He hesitates in the doorway. Watches the steady rise and fall of your breath. He should let you rest, knows you need it, but still—when he finally climbs into bed beside you, he pulls you close. His hand settles against the dip of your spine. His breath evens out with yours.

You wake before him.

Sylus is sprawled out, half-lost in sleep, his shirt undone—you’re usually the one to button it for him. You leave kisses across his chest when you do, but last night, you never got the chance. His skin is warm where the fabric parts, golden in the morning light.

“Are you really just going to stare at me?” His voice is thick with sleep, eyes still closed. “And not say good morning?”

You smirk. “Well, you haven’t said it first.”

He groans softly, rolling over, arms pulling you into his warmth.

“Good morning, kitten.”

“Good morning, Sylus.”

His fingers trace slow circles against your back. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod. “Yes. I appreciate you helping me.”

You let your hand drift along his chest, tracing absent lines over his skin.

“Are you sore?”

“All over.” You hum, pressing closer.

“You’ll have to sleep it off today.”

“Mm.”

You lean down, pressing a kiss where you hadn’t the night before—soft at first, lingering just enough to feel the heat of his skin beneath yours. The scent of him, familiar and comforting, fills your senses, and you can’t help but deepen the kiss, your lips molding against his with a quiet urgency.

Feeling his warmth seeping in, you press yourself fully against him, every inch of you aching for something more, something steady. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you tug him closer, the kiss growing more heated with every passing second. You feel his pulse against yours, steady and strong, as if he's anchoring you in this moment, this space between what you want and what you fear.

But the tightness inside you hasn’t gone. The tension that makes it impossible to relax, to just be. You pull back, just enough to breathe, to see his face, but the words come out anyway, rasping and raw.

"Sylus... I’m not able to relax, please help me." Your voice is smaller than you want it to be, vulnerable and unfamiliar, but necessary.

He chuckles softly, a low, almost teasing sound that echoes through you in a melody you’re still learning to dance to. There’s something in it that makes you shiver—not with fear, but with the weight of the connection that lingers between you.

"Kitten," he murmurs, his voice rich and knowing, "you’re such a quick learner. I’m so proud of you."

His words send a jolt through your chest, but it's not the discomfort you thought it would be. There's something grounding in his praise, something that reminds you that maybe—just maybe—you’re not as lost as you sometimes feel. His hand brushes your cheek gently, his thumb sweeping across the curve of your skin, as if he’s trying to erase the remnants of all the chaos that had once made you feel so alone.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours, dark and steady. "Let me help you feel it."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, lingering kiss, savoring the moment. His hand glides down your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips with deliberate care. A soft moan escapes you, your body instinctively arching into his touch, drawn to the warmth of his hands.

His mouth trails lower, lips and tongue leaving a heated path down your neck, his breath warm against your skin. When he reaches your collarbone, he lingers, pressing a kiss there before continuing downward. His hands move to your chest, fingers teasing, coaxing shivers from you with every precise movement.

"Sylus," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper, your body trembling beneath him.

He chuckles, the sound low and indulgent. "You're incredibly frustrating," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. "But I could never resist you."

His hand continues its descent, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. His fingers move with ease, teasing, exploring, drawing out every reaction as if he’s memorizing the way you respond to him.

His lips follow the same path, trailing lower, his tongue leaving a warm, electric sensation against your stomach. He pulls your pants away with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes dark with something unreadable—something intense.

His lips find you first. A kiss—soft, yet claiming, as if sealing an unspoken promise. His movements are patient, controlled, the heat of his breath sending a ripple of anticipation through you before he deepens the pressure.

Your legs tighten instinctively around his shoulders, but he catches them, strong hands holding you in place. His grip is firm, steady, grounding.

"You were doing so well, darling," he murmurs, glancing up at you. His voice is smooth, teasing, but there's something gentler beneath it. "You said you’d let me take care of you."

Before you can respond, his lips are on you again, and the words dissolve into a breathless moan. Your fingers dig into the sheets, your body trembling against his hold. His rhythm matches your breath, slow at first—exploring, savoring—until he finds exactly what makes you fall apart.

The pressure builds, overwhelming in its intensity, a delicate balance of wanting more and never wanting it to end. His grip tightens as he feels you teeter on the edge, his pace unrelenting, guiding you toward something inevitable, something shattering.

"Sylus," you gasp, voice unsteady.

He hums against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure coursing through you. "I've got you," he whispers. "Let go.”

Relief crashes over you in waves, rippling through your trembling body. For a fleeting moment, you feel suspended in a stillness only possible in a moment like this—your body weightless, mind blank, utterly lost in sensation. Your breath catches, then escapes in shallow, ragged gasps as aftershocks pulse through you.

When you finally regain enough clarity, your gaze drifts downward, drawn to the sight of him. Sylus is watching you, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes filled with satisfaction, admiration. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, but he doesn’t. He only watches, mesmerized.

His tousled hair is damp, strands sticking to his forehead, making him look even more devastatingly undone. But it’s the shirt—the one he never took off—that suddenly pulls at your focus. The fabric clings to his torso, wrinkled from where your hands had clutched at him, damp in places from sweat and the heat between you.

You want to take it off him. You need to. The urge is almost visceral. Not just to see him fully—though you ache for that too—but to strip away that last remaining barrier, to feel his skin against yours without anything between you. Your fingers twitch, already reaching before you can think twice.

“Why are you still wearing this?”

He chuckles, a low, satisfied sound, and leans in, brushing his lips over yours. “You can take it off me, darling," he murmurs against your mouth, his voice an invitation, a challenge. and you do.

you’ve seen him like this, bare and so willing, too many times to count. Right now feels different. Yiu shake your head, barely able to form words. "I just—"

His breath warm against your skin, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Please, tell me what it is that you want," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his fingers still moving inside you with slow, deliberate strokes.

Your breath hitched, pleasure clouding your thoughts as your body tensed beneath him. "You… Sylus, I want you," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with need.

His grin was dark, full of heat and satisfaction, his eyes flickering with something primal. He moved over you, his body pressing you into the mattress, solid and warm, surrounding you. The hard length of him pressed against your thigh. His hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kisses you, deep and lingering, pouring silent praise into every movement.

Physically, he told you how proud he was—how much he cherished you. He wasn’t just taking; he was teaching, guiding, showing you how to ask for him, how to trust him enough to need him. And he adored that trust. He thrived on the way you depended on him, he needed you just as much.

His hand slid between you, aligning himself with you as your lips continued to move together, breathing in each other’s gasps. Then, with aching slowness, he pushed inside, drawing a sharp inhale from both of you.

"Take a second, darling," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. His voice was steady, grounding. He waited, giving you time to adjust, to feel every inch of him, his grip firm but gentle as his hands traveled down your body.

One hand slid down your thigh, coaxing it around his waist, his fingers kneading the sore muscles, working out the tension with care.

"If you’re hurting, please tell me," he said, voice low, his concern laced between the desire in his tone.

You shook your head, biting your lip. "No—I'm just… too sore to match your pace. I—I really need you to lead."

A slow smile spread across his lips, something fond and reverent. "I've got you, darling," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You’re getting so good at telling me what you need. I'm so proud of you."

With that, he started to move—slow, controlled strokes, giving you time to adjust, to melt into him, to understand exactly where you needed to lean on him. His moans against your lips were beautiful, each one sending shivers down your spine. His grip on your hips tightened, steadying you, holding you close as he built a rhythm.

And then, gradually, his pace quickened. The friction, the heat, the way he filled you—it all became overwhelming in the best way, each thrust drawing a sharper cry from you. Your fingers dug into his back, clinging to him, feeling every ripple of muscle beneath his damp skin.

When his hand slid between your bodies, teasing, adding to the intensity, your breath stuttered. "Sylus—" you gasped, your body trembling on the edge.

He chuckled against your neck, his breath hot and uneven. "Let go for me," he murmured, voice laced with command and adoration, his fingers working in tandem with his movements.

And then, it hit—pleasure crashing over you in waves, your body tensing before unraveling completely. A cry tore from your lips as you clung to him, your body trembling with the force of it.

Sylus groaned against your skin, his pace stuttering, his own release finding him in the wake of yours. He pulsed inside you, his grip tightening for just a moment before he let out a deep, sigh.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, only the sound of your shared breathing filling the space between you. Then, slowly, he collapsed beside you, his body slick with sweat, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close.

"Thank you," you whispered, your body warm, sated, and blissfully drowsy.

He let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "Anytime," he murmured, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline with lazy affection.

And as your eyelids grew heavy, sleep tugging at you with a quiet insistence, you felt it—the safety, the warmth, the quietness in your head wrapped around you like a soft blanket. It wasn’t just his presence in the moment that you felt; it was him, in every sense of the word. Sylus wasn’t just beside you physically—he was there in a way that went deeper and flew through your breaths and the rhythm of your heart.

There was something about his calm, unwavering certainty that made everything else fall away. The tension in your body seemed to melt with every touch, every whisper, every reassurance. The weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy when he was there, grounding you, even in silence.

You could feel his steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm that mirrored your own. And as the soft hum of sleep began to pull you under, you heard his voice again, low and soothing, just as you were drifting away.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he murmured, a promise wrapped in warmth.

He was here. And when you opened your eyes again, he would be waiting.

With a sigh that carried the last remnants of the day, you allowed yourself to let go, surrendering to the peace he had given you.

[buttercupshands]

can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big

and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today

[fatuismooches]

Zandy speed-walking to your room wrapped in his blanket whenever he got nightmares wasn't anything new.

In the beginning, he felt guilty for bothering you in the middle of the night, but ever since you found out the child had bad dreams once in a while, you urged him to come find you no matter what time it was. Thankfully, they had significantly decreased since he met you, but there were still times he woke up scared and sweating, as if flames had nearly licked him. Admittedly, a part of him wished you could sleep in his room every day so it wouldn't happen, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to you.

At first, Zandy would knock on your door and wait for you to open before intruding, but eventually, you managed to convince him to just let himself in and onto your bed. During these instances, you'd wake up to the child cuddling to you, sometimes with Foxttore squished in between. It was healing for both of you. And tonight, Zandy thought as he tip-toed to your room, would be no different. Quietly twisting the doorknob and entering the room, he already felt a bit more at ease, especially at the sight of your silhouette. The boy walked to the bed and began to climb on it when suddenly a hand shot out to grab him, and he was faced with none other than fellow blood-red eyes.

Quickly, Zandy figured out the situation, when he noticed that you were actually on the other side of the bed, this person was none other than Prime Dottore which he didn't realize in the darkness, and that he had accidentally woken him up. It was only natural that Dottore would be woken up at the slightest noise - he had never been a deep sleeper.

But more importantly, the situation had turned awkward once Dottore had removed his grip from the boy, realizing it was just him. Immediately, Zandy tried to shuffle off the bed - he and Prime had been on way better terms lately, no longer being ignored, which was wholly thanks to you - but he was still hesitant to interact without you. But Dottore wasn't going to let him off that easy of course.

"... What are you doing here?" The boy's eyes nervously flitted from your sleeping body to Prime, hoping you'd wake up to get him out of the situation.

"W-Well..." Zandy's voice came out louder than he wanted, "I wanted to... to..." he then drifted off as he tried to think of a reasonable excuse. He could tell Dottore wasn't particularly impressed, moving to get up when suddenly a new voice entered the conversation.

"Zandik, what's wrong?" You yawned as you began to sit up in bed. "Usually, you aren't this noisy when you're sneaking off to go do work instead of sleep-" You stopped your sentence slowly and rubbed your eyes, as you now realized someone else was in the room too. "Zandy? Is that you?"

"Yes..."

"Another nightmare again? Poor thing, come here," you cooed, stretching your arms open. Dottore remained silent but quickly pieced together what happened. Well, it made an awful lot of sense - you somehow always managed to be soothing after experiencing the terrors of the mind. He too remembers the times he rested his chest on your chest after his own nightmares. Logically, when the scholar thinks about it, his child segment's nightmares were probably similar to his too.

However, Zandy didn't seem very certain of the idea anymore, more interested in heading out the door. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before you quickly remembered that Dottore was likely causing his hesitation.

"There's no need to be shy. You can stay, we don't mind," you said softly, moving to the edge of the bed and grabbing both his hands. "Right, Zandik?"

"... Go ahead. There's only a few more hours until I get up, anyway."

"See? Now come here." With only a bit of persuasion, the child was in between the two of you. Well, he was mostly attached to you while Dottore was just on the other side, but it was still sweet. You gently patted Zandy's head as you began yawning again, sleepiness still coursing through you. At that, Dottore pulled up the covers, making sure you (and the child) were warm.

"Good night, Zandy, Zandik..."

"Good night, [Name]... fa-" The word quickly softened and dried up on the boy's lips as he realized that he was still not brave enough for that yet. Zandy swiftly shut his eyes and willed his body to sleep as fast as possible.

A little while later, after Dottore was sure you both had dozed off, he sighed at the sight that was mostly covered in darkness, but he could still make out his child self's body wrapped by your larger one... as well as the rather wide and palpable gap in between his and his segment's.

Briefly turning over, the Harbinger glanced at the time. It would be time for him to return to his work soon, this break only a haven you begged to grant him. Dottore looked back at you, reaching out to caress your cheek, letting out another sigh. He moved his body closer, to where his own was only a little bit from touching Zandy's, and then wrapped a protective arm over you, and by extension, the child.

He would be gone soon enough, anyway - this wouldn't hurt for now.

It was moments like this that made what the future held hurt even more.

[sickwhispers]

PLAYING FAVORITES

Pairing: Dandy x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: no warnings surprising, are you guys shocked

Type: headcanons + drabble

It's no secret that he picks favorites

"Dandy, I appreciate the sentiment but..." you stare at the medkit in your hands, a confused look on your face as you attempt to understand just why he had given it to you. You definitely didn't need it, and you certainly had all your hearts intact. The only wound you had received during the last floor you had ventured into was a tiny scratch you had made yourself. Which had been a complete accident when you found yourself tripping over a capsule and onto the floor. "I don't need this..."

"Nonsense! Take it, free of charge! We don't want our greatest friend dying any time soon, do we?" He winked, nudging the first aid further into you. It seemed like he wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Hey, uh- I need one too." Oh god, Vee looked terrible. Normally, only one of her antennas would be bent. But, this time, it had looked like a twisted had tried to forcefully rip the other one off her head. And when that didn't work, decided to scrunch it up and tug at it until sparks came flying out of its base. The left side of her screen had been cracked, a long line running down from top to bottom with tiny strands breaking off near the edge. Just one look at her and it was almost obvious that she had lost a heart, and probably would've lost the last one had she not gotten into the elevator on time.

Dandy took one look at her, his smile never wavering as he spoke. Although, if you looked close enough, you could see the strain behind it. "Two hundred tapes."

Safe to say the others would catch onto this little trend after a while

He pretended he wasn't biased when it came to you

Acting dumb like there was no difference in the way he treated you, compared to how he treated everyone else

Sure, he would smile and wave, act nice just to keep the tapes rolling in

He was still their friend, he couldn't just be mean

But, he couldn't doubt how special you were compared to them

Day one he was practically at your beck and call, even before everything had turned to ruin

He knew things were different now, he knew you probably wouldn't let him do all the things he used to back when you didn't have to worry about the possibility of having some corrupted version of your friends tear you to pieces

But, he could still dream, couldn't he?

He couldn't help but indulge in fantasies every now and then

Letting his head rest in his hands as he watched you interact with the others

Sure, he would've preferred if your attention was on him

But, he could pretend he didn't mind sharing

Although, sometimes he wasn't so good at it

He'd miss the days when you'd let him just lay beside you

His head on your stomach as he'd pick at the floor beneath you both, mindlessly staring up at you in an almost dazed like look

The others used to tease him about it

About how well known his feelings for you were, and yet he never wanted to admit it

After all, what would happen if he did?

There were risks he had to consider when it came to telling you how he felt

And he never liked any of them

He almost preferred keeping them a secret, letting them fester inside until they were practically pouring out of every crevice in a desperate attempt to keep himself sane

Maybe you were the reason he hadn't gone crazy yet

But, if you kept your attention straying from him for a bit too long, there's a good chance he might just lose it

Make sure to talk to him every round

Say hello, tell him about the twisteds you encountered, share how you made a mistake when extracting ichor from a machine and almost run into a wall while trying to hide

Anything. Just anything.

He needs it.

[circeyoru]

Freedom in The Darkness

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Royalty!Reader - Royal Fight AU]

*Implied Female Reader (it’s just the titles)

Deception. Manipulation. Blood. Pain. Betrayal. Assassination. Death.

Such things were the normality within the walls of the royal family that everyone seemed to admire. A fight for the title of crown prince or princess, to be the next ruler of the empire. It was the biggest succession fight in the world. Why? Because whoever wins this scrabble essentially rules the world. 

Only six princes and princesses remained among the 13. There were various deaths: poison, assassination, falling, disease, drowning, heart attack, and malnutrition. Within the six were three princes and three princesses. Because the fight hindered the standard functionality of the empire, the emperor sent the six candidates for the throne to six different domains. Each got to pick their domain according to their birth order.

There were a few reasons why the emperor sent his children to different places. (1) Of course, it was for peace to return to the royal capital since the beginning of the royal succession made the people split into groups. (2) It was for the remaining children to seek allies outside of their comfort zone―namely those in the castle. And (3) it was for said children to try and rule over their chosen domain within 7 years. 

You were one of the three princesses and you were sent to the lawless domain. You survived solely because you had a knack for hiding and living like the dead in the palace, so no one paid attention to you until the cease-fire was announced. Of the remaining children, you were the youngest and none of your elder brothers and sisters saw you as a threat. In fact, they bet you would be killed within the week in your new domain.

The lawless domain was where adventures and criminals mingled since even the emperor could barely pay it any mind or attention. It also served as the barrier between the empire and the dark forest, so no one cared for this place. Thus, the infamous nickname ‘Lawless’ is used.

Initially, you’ve given up on living since there was no light in your dark world. All you’ve known was how to survive. Turns out it was the same deal here. To your luck, although the people of that domain were notified of a royal arriving to rule over them, none knew what that royal looked like. So you have forsaken your clothing and identity for money to have someplace to stay. 

Throughout your time here, you’ve built bonds and connections, ones you never wanted to drag into your royal fight. One of which was a boy named Sung Jinwoo. He was the older brother of a younger sister, he and his family were adventurers and they have been the ones to help you with your life in this lawless area. There was once when you thought Jinwoo died in an expedition. You, who have unlocked your magic, set out to search for him after his team came back to town with tears. When you found him, he was still breathing, so with your last breath, you teleported him back to his home and collapsed. 

When you woke up, you were met with a Jinwoo look-alike exercising in your shared room. The moment the two pairs of eyes met, he gave you that soft smile, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning… Jinwoo?”

“That’s me.”

From then on, Jinwoo was obsessed with growing stronger, and he did. Every day, he goes above and beyond to train his physical body and enters the forest like it was a mere training ground. There were times when you could join him, and other times when he preferred to go alone, those times you’d be with his family or other parties you’ve made connection with. 

Jinwoo never came back with any scratches or injuries, making you curious as to how strong he has gotten. You confronted him and he showed you what he was capable of. The powers of shadow and an army of undead so long as he stood strong and alive. When you heard that, you gave him quite the lecture on safety and worrying others. He was kneeling on his knees with his hands raised, looking like a kicked puppy. Meanwhile, any passerby would snicker and tease Jinwoo for angering his partner.

You took up the role of being his exclusive healer and was by his side every time he went to some sort of battle. In turn, Jinwoo set aside some soldiers of his to protect you since he’d be focused on the fight and you’d be focused on him. It was a unique partnership, you’ll admit. You’d never tell anyone that it was comforting to know someone would depend on you and you could rely on someone, especially when that someone was Jinwoo. 

At some point, you slipped up and your secret as a royal was known to him. It wasn’t a big deal since you didn’t care for your title anymore after living outside the palace for so long. You have long abandoned your royal title and privileges after being sent away to your new ruling domain. You found a new life and you treasured it more than what the stupid palace could offer. This was the freedom you never had; no one treated you like royalty, and no one expected anything of you. It was true bliss.

Until Jinwoo had this idea. “Say, why not take over the throne?”

“What?!” You spit out your drink and started a coughing fit that Jinwoo tried to relieve by patting your back. When you did, you glared at him and questioned, “Why would you suggest that?”

“If you hate this royal succession so much, why not become empress and demolish it?” Jinwoo calmly spoke his mind. “You have my full support and the people of this city.”

You slumped, playing with the cup in your hands. “But, I’m not fit to rule… I didn’t receive any education like my brothers and sister. It’s not like one city; it’s a whole empire! I can’t handle it…”

Jinwoo cupped your hands in his larger ones, making you look up into his grey-coloured eyes. “Hey, I’ll be right by your side. So will the others in my shadow. We’ll all help you.” At your silence and uncertainty, Jinwoo hummed in thought. “How about this? Kill them and raise them from the dead to act as the ruling power?”

You blinked and stared at Jinwoo, bewildered by his new idea.

“That way, you’re not the figurehead to rule. They are. You’ll be behind the scene controlling them. You have me after all.” He let go of you and came over to his side, kneeling down on one knee as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles with a confident smirk. “Just give me the order, your majesty.”

After that conversation, the atmosphere in the city changed and people started acting like they were preparing for war. Whenever you were around, they would give you a nod and go back to their work. You realized they were prepared to act as your army when you fight for the throne. You couldn’t help but smile and cheer them on with your thanks. 

You had no idea when it started. The lawless domain that outsiders shunned and despised was just an unpolished diamond in the rough. It only took the right person to come along to change it to one of the more fearsome domains that could give the warrior, knight, and armoury domains a run for their money. Though you probably had a hold over its people because you never waved your royal card in their face like your elder siblings would. They respected you for your ability to survive and care for others no matter the circumstance, though it also had something to do with you being a two-faced cunning fox against your enemies. A story for another time maybe.

You gave it some thought. Jinwoo was right, if you were standing at the highest, nothing could stand in your way of implementing changes. Plus, you wanted to protect this city you grew fond of. Contrary to the rumours, this place was like any other; if not, it would have been more peaceful and human than your home in the palace. You wanted to have the power and authority, but you also wanted your own freedom. It was greedy and selfish of you, you know, still, you wanted no rules and obligations that could separate you from Jinwoo and those you care for.

On the day the time was up, the royal carriages arrived to pick you up. Jinwoo and Igris followed behind you, acting as knights and close aids of yours. Igris’ full armour appearance made the story more believable while Jinwoo appeared to be a mix of a butler and assassin, if that made any sense. Either way, the countdown began. 

The closer you were to the palace, the more your heart beat like mad. Jinwoo took your hand and gave you a tight squeeze. You looked away from the window at his soft expression, and you gave him the best smile you could. “I’m nervous…”

“Don’t be. You’re not alone now.” Jinwoo spoke melody to your ears. “Everyone can move at your word.”

You looked down at the shadows. Millions of glowing eyes looked back at you while the shadows wavered, showing you support in their unique way. “Yes, I’m not alone.”

The carriage stopped, and the door opened. Jinwoo got off first and held out a hand for you. You took it and the edge of your dress as you stepped out of the carriage. The scenery of the majestic palace didn’t change a bit, but the memories of all the squabbles for the throne rushed back like a storm. Screams and cries of agony you’d try to shut out to keep your sanity when you hid and witnessed murders and betrayals of all kind around you. All for the seat to be the top. Unconsciously, you squeezed Jinwoo’s hand to ground yourself.

“Oh my, what’s this?” A high-pitched voice rang to your side. You and your companion looked over and saw one of your older sisters. “You’re still alive? I thought you died! And what are you even wearing? No class?”

“Don’t be so mean.” A deep and rough voice sounded above; it was one of your older brothers. “Being sent to that lawless trash area must be hard. You should be applauded for even appearing here, but my hand is tired from all the work I’ve been doing.”

“Dying there would be better than here.” Another brother of yours scoffed as he headed up the steps to the entrance of the palace.

“Right.” Your eldest sister snickered as she purposely bumped into you before walking up the steps. 

“Poor thing.” The last of your brother muttered. 

You waited until they were all gone, and then unclenched your fist. Your eyes glared at where your siblings were. Whatever sympathy and affection you held for them just because they were your family, all gone. You were hoping they would have changed over the years and join you in thinking this fight was insane, maybe wanting to grow as a family instead. 

But no. 

Now you have your answer. 

“I think the invasion and turnover can happen after dinner.” You coldly stated, all emotion drained from your face. 

Jinwoo grinned while Igris bowed his head with his hand over his heart area. Jinwoo led you up the steps by the hand while he chuckled, “I feel like it’ll happen earlier. Want to burn down just the palace or the entire capital?”

“...Only the royal family is at fault…”

“So, if I secure the innocent, then~?”

“Yeah.”

“As you wish, My Empress.”

Note: One of my older works. Decided to post it now cause I'm a bit too busy with IRL stuff. Anyways, I saw the poll for {Shadow and Void} and the next update would be Arc 3 I believe, the parts would be back to back (a bit like the Christmas update). See you guys then!

Hope you liked this one!

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

*(regarding requests, check the Masterlist to see if it’s opened or not and other info related before sending one. Thanks.)

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme

[polydeuces]

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

��𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; You linger in Dexter Morgan’s shadows, close enough to feel the darkness he hides so well. You know his secrets, his rituals, the thrill he keeps hidden from the world. Silently, you wait for that perfect moment to step into his path—so he can finally see that he’s been hunted all along.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (688words) mentions of cults, stalking, potential violence, intrusive thoughts, and elements of psychological tension.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

He was supposed to be the predator.

You’d watched him for a year now, the man who walked through the world with an all too familiar blend of invisibility and quiet command. Dexter Morgan, a blood–spatter analyst by day and something far more dangerous by night. But those were his surface-level disguises. You’d begun to peel back the layers, unraveling the nuances of a man who navigated life in the shadows, just as you have for so many years now.

It started innocently enough—fleeting moments when you’d caught sight of him on the crowded Miami streets, merging into the sea of faces like he belonged there. But you knew better. You knew what it was to wear masks, to walk amoung people undetected, unseen and unnoticed. There was something about him, the way he looked at the world, made him all the more intriguing.

So you watched. Carefully, hidden, with a patience you’d honed over years of practice, you observed him as he slipped out of his office at night, slightly tense in his gaze, focused, distant, as if he were listening to something only he could hear. Often times, you’d follow him to the places he frequented; his home, abandoned warehouses, places where the thin line between light and darkness blurred. You learned his routines, the way he’d pull his signature black gloves onto his hands, the way his eyes would sweep across the streets with a meticulous attention to detail before stepping into his own hidden rituals.

It fascinated you.. his dance, this performance between worlds. His life was a careful balance of precision and secrecy. And then there were his victims. You’d seen him work, watched from the edges as he sized up those he deemed worthy enough. You hadn’t intervened— after all, it wasn’t about them. It was about him. You needed to understand his purpose, what drove him and what rulebook or code tethered him to this life.

You began to study his life beyond the night as well, picking up pieces of Dexter Morgan, the man, the father, the blood-spatter analyst, the widower, the mask. You’d slip into his world unnoticed, lingering at places he went during the day; you listened to his colleagues, his sister and the casual comments that painted a picture of someone, friendly, yet distant, the “nice guy” who kept to himself.

You learned his patterns, his preferences, even the small, old habits he indulged in when he thought no one was watching. You uncovered the Dexter he showed to the world, the façade that kept his true nature hidden.

But you could see it—the subtle tension in his jaw, the guarded look in his eyes that surfaced when someone got too close, the small tells of a hidden life. The knowledge inside you—the kind of intimacy that was both exhilarating and forbidden—you knew him in a way no one else did, knew him not by the lies he told, but by the silence he kept.

So, you kept waiting, biding your time. You wanted him to know that he been seen, that he wasn’t as invisible as he thought. You wanted him to understand that he was no longer the only one who lived by a code of shadows. You watched him for countless nights—slipping in and out of his world like a phantom, leaving a sense of unease that you knew would begin to gnaw at him.

Until finally, one night, you decided it was time.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

note; i have a taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show.

[caramelarrowswife]

Can you do more of the Dark Cacao headcanons? I really like reading your short stories :)

THE DARK CACAO FAMILY x READER

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Including my Dark Cacao family HCs this time yay!

Father!Dark Cacao Cookie x GN!Child!Reader

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

You’re pretty much unsupervised. Dark Cacao is home about three hours a week, and your siblings are busy and important figures to the Dark Cacao Kingdom.

That is, however, not to say important events won’t be celebrated. As the Kingdom’s beloved heir, every birthday is a big deal. Dark Cacao made the mistake of wanting to work on your fifth birthday; auntie Hollyberry tied him to a chair while you blew out your candles.

Caramel Arrow and Crunchy Chip, your older siblings, can be just as protective as your father. They have secretly followed you on various dates. It is safe to say Caramel Arrow’s disguises are a lot more discreet than Crunchy Chip’s.

Stoicism is a hereditary trait of the Dark Cacao kids that Crunchy Chip did not inherit. You and Caramel Arrow find great joy in teasing him everytime he flushes red in the presence of a certain Hollyberian bodyguard…

Dark Cacao’s expressions can be seen as incredibly apathetic to anyone who doesn’t know him. You, who has hung around him for your entire life, can read him like an open book. He looks a lot like his remaining son when he sees the monarch of the Pure Vanilla Kingdom.

Dark Cacao gets really upset when your friends or partner playfully insult you, as he has trouble distinguishing real slander from friendly slander.

I’m not accusing you of anything, but… autism certainly runs in the family.

Dark Cacao sleeps VERY lightly, so whenever you and Crunchy Chip/Caramel Arrow pull all-nighters and giggle just a little too loudly, there’s a grumpy, half-asleep king banging on your door.

You and Crunchy Chip try literally everything to set your dad up with a new queen, but he’s so picky! She’s too submissive, her magic is too weak, she doesn’t have the bite he’s looking for… the two of you realise what you’ve been doing wrong when he starts smiling like an idiot during Pure Vanilla’s stay at the castle.

You and Caramel Arrow will often bake, usually far past midnight. While the two of you are extremely careful and Caramel Arrow has extremely good reflexes, you once dropped the steel bowl you were mixing dough in on the hardwood floor.. What did I say about Dark Cacao being a light sleeper?

Dark Cacao cried when you snuck when you were about six, thinking you got abducted.

Living under 24/7 observation and constant protection of several bodyguards and the King himself has made you quite sneaky. At this point, Caramel Arrow is the only one who can see you snake out of the Citadel late at night.

You and your siblings sometimes do those youtube challenges, like ‘eating Hollyberian candies’ or ‘try not to laugh with water in your mouth’. You once got Dark Cacao to participate. He threw up after a bite of a Spooky Muffin.

While Dark Cacao, Caramel Arrow and you can handle horror movies very well (at your own degrees, of course), Crunchy Chip is TERRIFIED. He’ll cling onto whoever’s next to him at the time, claiming he’s ‘protecting them from nightmares’.

Dark Cacao does actually suffer from nightmares - not because of scary movies, but because of the large amount of trauma he experienced throughout his life and his inability to deal with it mentally and emotionally. He’ll sometimes wake up screaming and sweating like a dog; fifty percent of the time, the nightmares are about Dark Choco’s betrayal. The other half is about his remaining children.

Following the headcanon above, Dark Cacao has to check on every single one of his doughlings after a nightmare, which can take a while. You and your siblings have learned to get to his room immediately after loud, anguished cry coming from the royal bedroom.

[undirmanjarpakdingo]

Bridgeton era LADS brainrot.

Slightly Yandere- but come on its Caleb.

Caleb is nasty with it sorry.

He's seething when he finds out. The letter crumpling in his palm with such cold anger, it makes his roommate take in a laboured breath. His grandmother had seemingly planned this, made sure she paid his commission for the army so he was out of the way. And once he was, the next second she pushed you in front of the queen.

He was so isolated on the field that he wouldn't even have known if it wasn't for your excited letter. Despite his best efforts, it seemed his grandmother wasn't unaware of his intentions.

You weren't related by blood, a matter that was known but hadn't been discussed in that sense before. Everyone overlooked it, brushing past the morbidly obvious thought, finding content in watching you two play pretend family. It was suffocating. The only person who had the guts to hint at it was actually lady Whistledown.

Dearest Gentle Reader, We often say, blood is thicker than water, this surely rings true in the case of young miss Y/n, and her surprising debut this season. A long line of callers flank the gates of their home, but their bright faces dull as they walk out, egos bruised and hearts shattered. It is because her tight lipped colonel is back from the ranks, here specially to see his dear MC's season through. Keeping aside the lingering glances between them that tread the line of what would or wouldn't be appropriate, one is left to wonder if his harsh protectiveness over young miss MC is out of familial love, or something else entirely.

The thought of it is was so scandalous it sends shockwaves through the ton. Yet it still isn't enough to ward off potential suitors.

The baron was painfully stupid, the viscount a raging misogynist even that Marquis his grandmother was so dead set on, wasn't worth you. None of them were. He was the one who knew you, saw you like none of them ever could. They would just take you away from him, from home. The thought of separation consumed him entirely. Twisting in his bed, he grew more and more desperate to somehow stop this charade.

But he couldn't just walk up and propose. It wasn't that easy, he had to find a way so that no one would have a choice but to accept his proclamation. The gut wrenching realisation made itself placidly obvious. He had to ruin your reputation. Make it so no one else could have you. He had to make sure they caught you with him, but you'll understand right? You have to, Its the only way! He would never hurt you otherwise. But it has to be done, your reputation has to be compromised. That way he can stay by your side forever, that way you don't ever have to leave home, never leave him.

It'll be fine. Caleb thinks, You'll be happy. You have to be.

[galaxy-fleur]

Thinking 'bout Leon in his 40's-50's getting his first streaks of gray hair... Need to see that badly, he'd looks so good with them! Although he strikes me as the type to have a full on crisis at the first gray hairs he sees.

He's been stuck in the bathroom for, like, 20 minutes now, so you go to check on him and catch him straight up sitting on the toilet, head in his hands like he just heard the worst news possible, his eyes clouded over... And when you anxiously try to figure out what the heck has him looking like this, he points to his gray hairs.

That's it. He's getting old. Time for the midlife crisis, it seems. It's hard not to laugh at him, but he looks so genuinely bothered you might wanna hold off on teasing for a bit.

He'll feel better if you kiss the top of his head and say he looks handsome with them though. Still a bit panicky, but better. He's a bit of a drama queen with his hair, but it's cute.

[vilsoo]

‎ 𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺𝑶𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺…

‎ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ‎ ‎ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧… 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫!

‎ 𖤐 ORDER YOUR TICKETS HERE 𖤐 ‎ ֺ [ taglist ]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘; 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘… Inspired by Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights, indulge in sex and horror galore at our premiere Kinktober event, HORRORLAND! Would you dare venture our haunted houses, experience our exhilarating attractions, and uncover the scandalous, deadly mysteries of Horrorland?

fandoms: jujutsu kaisen, spiderman atsv, fnaf, re4, codmw2.

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

ㅤ ↓ 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 (𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓) ↓

FRIDAYS🩸 we welcome our fellow monster fuckers into this territory! deadly creatures preying on their victims, serving their lustful fantasies with wild, animalistic urges! your arousal and fear may provoke them further, so beware of the woods…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟒𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ❞ starring GHOST!LEON KENNEDY (re4)

who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead… and ghosts?

⚠︎ CW: mentions of stalking, slight ooc leon, angst, hurt/comfort, haunted vacation home, voyeurism, paranormal activity, sex with a ghost, gentle → rough smut, mirror sex, switchy!leon, 1980s setting.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟖𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 ❞ starring WEREWOLF!MIGUEL O’HARA (atsv)

during the bloodmoon on halloween, your werewolf boyfriend feels a rapacious urge to knock you up.

⚠︎ CW: established relationship, miguel in heat, rough sex, soft sex, marking, biting, possession, breeding, knotting, impregnating, degrading/praising, power struggle, multiple orgasms, 1980s setting.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟓𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 ❞ starring RYOMEN SUKUNA (jjk)

a camping trip you planned with your friends turns out to be a total nightmare, all caught on camera…

⚠︎ TW: suspense, horror/thriller themes, gruesome murder, gore, ritual sex, demon sex, satanism, sadism, betrayal, teratophilia, size kink, double penetration, plot twist, ib the blair witch project (1999), 1980s setting.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

SATURDAYS 🍷 the depths of hell fall on this dark and gloomy city bound to corruption and sin, known as the devil’s playground! lurking within the streets beholds the prurient reigns of terror that which may also arouse parkland guests…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟓𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ❞ starring NANAMI KENTO (jjk)

with you and your boyfriend being a regular at this fancy restaurant, the owner became very fond of you…

⚠︎ TW: cannibalism, chef/restaurant owner nanami, poisoning, murder, infidelity/cheating, eventual smut, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, dark obsession, slight stalking, gore, mutilation.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟐𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ❞ starring WILLIAM AFTON (fnaf)

as the new intern and your boss developing a dark obsession over you, he feels the need to corrupt you…

⚠︎ TW: dubcon, mind control (glitchtrap virus), sadism, murder, psychological abuse, manipulation, predator/prey dynamic, implied age gap, degradation, eventual rough smut, mentions of vanny mask.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟔𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐄 ❞ starring CHOSO (jjk)

accidentally bringing a girl back from the dead may have been horrifying, but falling in love with her..?

⚠︎ CW: horror/romcom themes, implied necrophilia (NO intercourse), college au, accidental ritual, romance, mentions of murder, suggestive smut, inspired by lisa frankenstein (2024) and corpse bride (2005).

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FOR OUR HALLOWEEN SPECIAL . . . not only are you immersed into the stories of our attractions, you get the real experience of being a parkland guest having a fun time at Horrorland with friends! but as thrilling as it all sounds, there are many scandals and articles of what really goes down…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟑𝟏: ❝ 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋? ❞ HEADLINE: PARKLAND VISITOR CAUGHT HAVING INTERCOURSE WITH A SCARE ACTOR!

flirting has become a common fear response when encountering hot masked scare actors chasing you at halloween events. this scandal covers a parkland visitor fawning over the hot scare actor in the Deathgasm haunted house, König, resulting in them flirting and sneaking off together…

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⚠︎ 𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ⚠︎

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. please do not steal my kinktober prompts/works/themes! reposting any of my works outside tumblr that minors can access is strictly prohibited. will be cross posted on my ao3 soon.

[dreamyblanket]

https://www.tumblr.com/dreamyblanket/774993854186356736/humble-art-requestreader-hugging-caramel-arrow?source=share

Tbh I don't mind if you talk about her for that long because you drew her so well i hunger for more art of her so *throws another Caramel arrow x reader request at you* nyeh!

Aww thank you, have a flustered cara and rambling in the tags in return!

[ccazimi]

Nightingale (pt. 4)

Read pt. 3

CW: stepcest, noncon, partial p in v, choking/breathplay, dacryphilia, namecalling (sweetheart, cockslut, etc.), degradation, dirty talking, sadism, cock worship, blowjob, throat/facefucking, cumplay (?), lmk if i missed anything else WC: 3.5k a/n: please! pay attention to the warnings! i'm gonna proofread this tmr so excuse any mistakes... also i think this miniseries will have one more part as the last one

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You hate those stupid words that he’d uttered because now you can’t get them out of your head.

With bated breaths and timid glances you sneak at him you wait patiently, wondering if he really meant what he said.

Those stupid words that kept you yearning in a way that was unfamiliar to you- if not to feel his tongue or his touch again then that damned toy he’d used on you.

The orgasm it gave you kept you up for nights, only heightened when you thought of him using it on you.

But Sukuna had been working long hours lately, and you had no idea how to even bring this up to him- as if you would, even if you knew how.

Amidst your thoughts being infected with him, you somehow didn’t feel the want to go on anymore dates. You gave excuses- that you were busy with schoolwork or that your parents were strict, because the truth was gross.

You wanted your perverted stepbrother to fuck you, use you, make you feel good in ways that had you questioning your sanity. That he’s tainted you till the point you get wet when he calls you his little sister.

These days disgust and discomfort are hard to differentiate from want and dark desires.

Still, you wondered if something had shifted in your dynamic with him since that night. He seemed a bit less antagonistic these days the few times you saw him, still teasing and taunting but in a more playful manner, and you felt yourself easing up with his presence, like you weren’t a stranger in your own home whenever he was around.

Any amiability came to a stand still not even a week later, when the situation regarding your finances came up.

Maybe it partially arose from the fact the Mr. Itadori had stepped up in his paternal role, happily offering to pay for your expenses including your college tuition. It was no secret that he was smitten with you, maybe because having a daughter was a nice change after raising two sons his whole life.

Even this would still be fine if he didn’t make Sukuna - the only other earning man in the household - pay for your expenses as well.

You insisted otherwise but Mr. Itadori was set on making his older show up for you, perhaps thinking this would show him how to act or how to be a real brother to you.

And that’s how you arrived with Sukuna having to pay your credit card bill, which clearly pissed him off to no end.

“Seventy-eight thousand yen?! Are you fucking serious?”

You stood awkwardly in the doorway of Yuuji and Sukuna’s shared room, feeling guilty enough as it was going up to him and asking him if he could pay your bill since Mr. Itadori told you to go to him for it.

Honestly, you’d try to postpone this meeting for as long as you could but your bill was due very soon.

“It was over the course of one whole month, okay?” You reply defensively, thinking you’d actually done a decent enough job budgeting this month.

Sukuna’s lip curls in irritation as he looks up from the statement to glare at you. “You don’t fucking get it do you? Spoiled fucking brat, you’ve just had everything handed to you your whole life.”

His words sting, like they always do. You’re tired of hearing this same tirade from him over and over again- and to act like he knows you or whatever the hell your life was like?

It grates your nerves.

“Don’t act like I’m the problem just because you’re miserable.” You finally spit back.

“You are the fucking problem, you just enter our fucking lives and start leeching off of us.” He seethes, creases etched into his face that’s twisted in anger. “Getting coddled like you’re a damn toddler while the rest of us actually have to work.”

“I’m a full time student, you know this!” You step closer, done bowing your head and putting up with his bullshit. “And you have no right to act like you’re a fucking saint just because you have a job, after all the things you’ve done to me.”

You despise the way your voice breaks just a bit after you hiss out the last part, the way his expression contorts with something mocking, condescending.

He scoffs. “Done to you, huh? You keep playing this card like you don’t fucking love it,” He leans closer, “Like you don’t fall apart under my touch as if it’s the only good thing that’s ever happened to you. I bet you even fuck yourself on your fingers at night pretending they’re mine, don’t you?”

Sukuna watches you try to hold yourself together and keep your composure as you stubbornly deny him what both of you know is the truth, acutely aware of how close he was and that glint in his eyes. “I don’t. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“Sweetheart, you’d probably get on the floor and do it in front of me right now if I asked you to.” He smirks. “If I promised you I’d make you feel so good, if you did. You don’t have nearly as much shame as you pretend to.”

You push down the lump in your throat, fingers curling inwards and unfurling again as you’re rudely reminded of the situation you’d been dealing with this whole fucking week, how even now your craving mind wonders if this is an offer.

“Make me feel good….how?” You murmur under your breath, heat seeping through your body and across your cheeks as you look down and away from his face and towards the long fingers that were pumping inside you.

You’re ridiculously horny for him.

He laughs, a callous sound that rips through and yanks you out of your stupor.

“God, you were really fuckin’ gonna do it, weren’t you? Pathetic bitch.” He sneers.

Tears of resentment, anger, and humiliation prick at your eyes and before they have a chance to fall your hand is suddenly flying through the air and slapping him squarely across the face.

“Fuck you, fuck, I wish you’d never entered my fucking life!” You yell, hating how your hit seemingly does nothing to him, or that sleazy grin on his face. “No wonder your mom left, it was probably because of you, her fucked up shit-show of a son.”

Whatever mirth lingered on his expression quickly disappears as his face hardens.

You know you’ve crossed a line, even before he stands at his full height reminding you of just how much bigger and stronger he was then you.

You’re still angry and honestly it felt good spewing that venom at him, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling something new right now like cold water in your veins.

It turns icier when he smiles again, the kind of smile that signals you should leave now.

“Maybe you’re right. Wanna see how much of a ‘fucked up shit show of a son’ she gave birth to?” He prowls closer, agonizingly slow as you continue to back further and further away until you’re near his door.

You really shouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation while the only other person at home was Mr. Itadori who was contentedly asleep in the living room sofa while the tv plays loudly in the background.

Finally you swivel around, though you know it’s pointless.

You’ve played this game before- Sukuna will always be bigger, stronger, faster.

And just like that he’s in front of you, shoving you away from the door as a condemning click tells you there’s no getting out of this now.

It alarms you, enough that you’re leaping across the small expanse of the room, though you know it won’t do anything, confirmed by a tight grasp around your wrist before you’re shoved face first into the dark covers of his single bed.

It all happens so fast, you feel the immovable weight of him above you as you struggle uselessly and panicked tears are wet on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Sukuna, I didn’t mean it—”

His hand is around your throat in an instant, pressing the air out of your words as he pushes your head back till your neck is straining. “Shut up, just shut the fuck up. You had it fucking coming.”

You stop trying to fight back, with both wrists held together behind your back in just one of his hands and another that could choke you out at any time, you were only just wasting your energy.

He leans in, breath hot and humid as it ghosts across your ear. “I really held out on this, you know. But you’ve pushed your luck too far this time…”

A sickly feeling curdles in your gut when he shifts so you can feel the hardness in his pants, rubbing along the curve of your ass. “So let me show you what a mean older brother I can be.”

Your breath turns shaky as you feel him undo his pants, shifting around to free his erection before crudely yanking your own bottoms and panties down, just enough that you can feel air brush against your exposed ass and cunt. “No, no, no, I’m not ready Sukuna, please you c-cant,”

His fingers tighten back up around your trachea, the uncomfortable pressure and your anxiety letting only a scant amount of oxygen to make it to your lungs.

“I can, and I will. Besides, you were ready that night, huh? Just to lose it to some random guy you barely even knew, if it came to it.”

You feel it then, the hot and leaking tip of his cock rubbing against your pussy. You try to swallow but you can’t. You want to yell, say something, anything, but not a single word can make its way up your squeezed throat.

“Oh fuck, you’re wet.” He chuckles lightly, exhaling audibly as his cock slides further into your lubricated folds, sliding it back and forth in your slick. “You like this or something? Is this turning you on? God, you might just be as ‘fucked up’ as me…”

His grip loosens slightly on your throat, allowing you with some much needed air as you find yourself getting even more worked up, despite the fear and bitterness that boiled in you.

Your stomach tightens when you feel him stop his movements to prod his tip against your entrance. “St-stop Sukuna, I won’t be able to take it,” You whisper as fresh tears fall, “You’ll tear me up.”

“Just take a deep breath.” He says flatly, not a hint of concern in his voice. “Or don’t, I don’t really care either way.”

He presses himself further into you, and you can already feel the pain gathering as he’s barely even inserted himself.

“No-”

Your cry of protest turns into a wincing gasp as he pushes himself further into you, just the tip of him forcing its way past your entrance.

“Oh shit, you’re tight,” He groans.

It hurts. A painful burn that felt like you were being ripped open as he tries to inch himself deeper into you.

Your body’s tensed in pain, breath labored while you let out feeble whimpers as tears stream and stream, trying to just get through it, remembering how you were always told that there would be pleasure after the initial pain.

Even if it doesn’t seem like this pain would ever be worth it.

He can’t honestly be more than an inch in, but you feel him stop moving.

He’s looking at you.

A second passes before he sighs. “Fuck.”

And with that there’s another sudden burst of pain before it’s gone all together and you realize he’s pulled himself out of you.

His hand leaves your throat, relief flooding your veins when you feel his weight lift off you.

As soon as you can, you quickly turn over, harshly pulling your own pants up to see he’s already tucked himself back in as well.

You scoot farther away from him on his bed until your back is to the wall.

He’s looking down at you with a scornful look of frustration with a gaze that makes you feel small before finally breaking the silence. “Get on the ground. You’re gonna have to make me cum another way.”

“Wh-what?”

“Are you dumb? Get down and on your knees. Now.”

You do as he says, slipping off the edge of his bed and slowly lowering yourself till he knots a hand in your hair and pushes down on your hear till you’re at his crotch level.

“And take off your top.”

You hesitate.

It doesn’t make sense for you to be shy about this, especially after everything else.

You swallow and grab your shirt by the hem to pull it up over the top of your head before pausing and looking up at him.

“Don’t make me fucking say it.”

Well, at least you tried your luck.

Slowly you unclasp your bra and take off the straps before throwing it to the side to expose your bare chest to him.

Sukuna’s eyes roam over your tits as your nipples harden in exposure to the air and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“That’s what I like to see.” He hums before gripping your head tightly again to push you forcefully into the large bulge in his pants so that he can grind it on your face. “Feel that? You’re gonna take all of it down your dumb little throat and you’re gonna love every single second of it. Understand?”

Tears sting your eyes and your face burns in equal parts shame and arousal as you nod obediently.

“Say it. Haven’t I taught you how to use your words?”

“Y-yes, I understand.” The words come out muffled by his clothed erection pressed against your mouth.

He pulls away. “Strip me.”

For a second you pause before quickly getting to work, unable to look up at him in the eye as you do so.

You unbutton his jeans and pull them down, the outline of his hardened cock through the black boxers sucking the air out of your lungs. Your fingers brush against his skin as you hook them around the waistband and peel them down to release his swollen dick.

Your stomach coils again.

Maybe it’s just the angle but you swear it looks even bigger than last time, with a vein running around the underside that you hadn’t previously noticed.

There was no way in hell you could have possibly taken that thing inside you and survived.

“Look up at me.” He orders as he grasps his cock with one hand.

You tilt your chin, round tear eyes meeting the hungry ones above you, watching his pupils blow out even more when he slaps his blushed tip against your face, making you wince softly.

That wicked leer of his only grows, the one that always means bad news.

“Kiss it. Show me how much you love my cock.”

Your eyes widen slightly, laying your hands around the dark tattooed bands encircling the muscular tops of his thighs before placing a chaste kiss right on his slit.

“Ah, fuck,” He exhales as he rubs the leaking tip of his dick up against your lips, smearing the precum all over them like it’s lipgloss. “That’s a good girl. Keep this up and you might actually make up for before.”

You resist the urge to bite his dick off.

He taps his cock on your mouth. “Open up.”

You comply, entirely confused by how much you hated this, especially after what he’d just tried, yet found yourself just as desperately wanting to taste him.

He immediately begins to slide his length through your opened mouth, groaning at the contact against your wet tongue, continuing to go deeper and deeper till it was uncomfortable.

You try to fight your gag reflex from being triggered but it happens anyway, with something so long and large being pushed down your throat. You grip his thighs pathetically and try to push away from him as your throat convulses around his cock, trying to squeeze it out.

You’re offered no mercy because it only hardens his dick more, and with a cold laugh he harshly shoves your skull further down his length till your nose is pressed against his pelvis. “Oh come on, you’re being dramatic.”

Dramatic?

You can barely breathe, growing dizzy when he finally pulls out and peers down at you as you cough a bit and regain your breath.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re such a sensitive little thing, because fuck, it turns me on to see you all pathetic like this.” You wish you could ask him to be gentler but you know by now that there was a good chance he’d likely just do the opposite. So instead you wipe your tears and determinedly take his dick in your hand to put it into your mouth again- though this time not all the way.

Sukuna let’s you do this without shoving himself back down your throat, watching your face and fighting the urge to let out a moan as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip.

You gaze up at him and he inhales sharply when you dig your tongue into the divot of his frenulum, dragging your soft tongue up from it over his tip, and back down his shaft again.

His breathing grows heavier, no longer able to fight the urge to thrust in and out of your warm, wet mouth in time with your motions and the way your tongue laves so sensually all over his dick. “Shit, you like this you little cockslut? You like sucking off your big brother?”

You moan around his dick without even thinking, and Sukuna grins again. “Wow, you really are messed up.” He rasps. “Now suck my balls like a good little slut, yeah?”

He pulls his wet length out of your messy mouth, smeared with precum and saliva. You hold his cock up and close your lips around his heavy scrotum, sucking and lapping gently at the soft flesh while you stroke his shaft with your hand.

The last restraints of his control begin to crumble at the sensation, at how fucking filthy you look like this. “Ah -fuck- god, you really are nothing more than my obedient little dog, huh? I can make you do -hah- whatever the fuck I want you to…”

His grip in your hair suddenly tightens and he pulls away to shove his cock through your parted lips, unable to control the urge to fuck your mouth any longer.

The pressure is sudden and before you can adjust he’s gripping your hair so tightly you feel pinpricks on your scalp. That pain is quickly overshadowed when he begins snapping his hips back and forth at a brutal pace.

You struggle to keep your mouth open while you try not to choke on the cock slamming into the back of your throat over and over again.

“Ah, shit, you pathetic, stupid, needy little thing. You’re -hah- really worth nothing more than being a -fuck- a cocksleeve for me to use.”

You don’t notice tears are falling again, running down your cheeks and only adding to the ness of spit dribbling obscenely down your chin from where he mercilessly thrusts in and out of your mouth.

It hurts, your jaw aches and you feel like you’re suffocating on his cock abusing your throat, hoping it won’t be long till he cums because you don’t think you can keep this up much longer.

And like your prayers have been answered, suddenly he snaps his dick all the way out of your mouth and jerks it above your face before cumming with a hiss, ropes of thick hot cum spurting out and painting your whole face white. They keep coming for a few seconds more, and by the time he’s down you feel the viscous fluid dripping lewdly down your face.

He pants, eyes drinking in the sight of you kneeling with cum all over your face, and it almost makes his dick harden again. “God, you look perfect right now, sis.”

You can barely look up at him, thinking it would’ve been a lot less degrading for him to just cum down your throat than this.

Sukuna furrows his brows in mock confusion. “Where’s your gratitude? Show some thanks and lick that shit up like a properly trained mutt.”

You don’t even think, just moving automatically to swipe your fingers in the semen drying on your face, and sucking them clean. He watches you do it over and over till of it is gone into your stomach, and you look expectantly up at him.

He’s tucked himself back in, reaching forward to pet the top of your head. “Good girl. I guess you’ve earned me paying your bill, huh?”

[cherryblooom]

2XL — OP81 [ part 2 ]

Summary: You are a young artist who gained a lot of popularity at the ripped age of 14 due to your talent and unusual style. Your body is considered "voluminous" so, in public, you only use 2XL clothing, to protect yourself from people on the internet and feel more comfortable while performing. You have managed to keep your personal life outside the spotlight but when Oscar finally made it to the glamorous lifestyle of motorsports, everything changed.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

navigation series masterlist

Fic warning: best friends to lovers, kinda slow burn, slut shaming, weird people on the internet, people commenting about a minor's body, panic attack, body image, reader battles with her self-esteem, self-image, and self-love, Oscar is obsessed with his girlfriend and her body (not in a creepy way) and is not afraid of showing it, I hate Karly and will too lol

Faceclaim: Billie Eilish

Note: Oscar is a year older than the reader. SMAU mixed with narrative. Reader doesn't have that much access to social media right now as they are mostly controlled by their management. Some K-pop artist will show up 'cause why not? lol

You knew you were tearing apart your suitcase, crumpling everything in your path, even a dark blue dress your mother bought in hopes you would wear, but you threw it on the floor without any concern. That dress was the least of your problems now.

“Please, please, come on… there must be another one. Where is it?” At that moment, you were almost on the verge of a panic attack, and not being able to control it anymore, you felt the tears start to come.

You had your manager on your heels, people on social media looking for the tiniest detail to take you down, a whole crew ready to film the entire event to interview you afterwards, and on top of that you were on day two of your period, in pain that you could only describe as hell itself – could it get any worse? Oh, of course it can be worse. You’re a teenager, which means your body is constantly changing. You had to be on stage in about 30 minutes and you had no underwear, or to be more specific, all the bras you had in your suitcase didn’t fit. It’s not a secret that your breasts were one of your most striking attributes (and you try to hide them as much as you can) and you swore that they were getting bigger every day. With each passing day, you began to hate your body. The bras you have now were too small for you and even if you tried to put them on, all you could feel was the underwires digging into your sensitive bust and you couldn’t even think about walking or jumping.

''Yn, what are you doing on the floor?'' Karly, your manager for 2 years, entered the room. ''And you're not even ready! Come on, it's almost 7:00 p.m. and the show is about to start.''

''I can't. I-I don't know what happened, but none of my bras fit and they're so uncomfortable. I'm on my period and I think my breasts have grown and…''

''And what do you want me to do? Honey, I don't have another bra you can wear, at least not in your size. But why did you pack them if you knew they wouldn't fit?''

''I didn't pack them! I was going to, and you told me we didn't have time, and you'd bring me my suitcase later, and now none of them fit.''

''Look, how about you try wearing one and practice here?'' your manager said, and you heard an edge to her voice. She was upset, and it only made you feel smaller, like this was all your fault.

“I tried! I tried wearing one but it doesn’t work. I can’t even breathe without the wires digging into my bust and it just hurts,” you cried. You were upset and frustrated. This day should have been special because of the big show that awaited you outside, but it was turning into a nightmare.

''Oh my god. Yn, what do you want me to do? What can I do? Should I go out and tell your fans and the filming crew that we need to cancel the show because your bra doesn't fit you? You wouldn't want that, would you?'' she said, and you felt like crying more. She knelt down in front of you and held your hands as she rubbed her thumb against your skin. ''Honey, I know it's not easy, but we can't turn back now and even if we could, we'd have to tell everyone the reason for the cancellation and you wouldn't want that, right? Imagine the headlines'' You shook your head. No, you didn't want that. You don't want to disappoint your fans and give the media another reason to hate you and tear you apart.

—That’s what I thought. I know it’s hard, but just try, okay? I’ll have to double-check something with the film crew. Stay here and I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to go on stage.'' That was the last thing she said before leaving you alone.

You tried again with a black bra, the largest one in the suitcase, and began to practice one of your songs, but with each breath the wires sank even further.

"Fuck, damn it!"

Officially, you were panicking. There were about 25 minutes left, and you had no idea what the hell to do, at this point you couldn't even breathe, you were starting to choke, and your vision was blurry from tears.

The first thing Oscar heard when the call connected was your crying on the other end of the line and his heart broke into pieces. He didn't like hearing you like that.

''Honey, I need you to take a deep breath. Just close your eyes and breathe. Don't worry about anything but breathing.''

''I c-can't. I can't breathe and my chest hurts, and Karly is coming for me in 20 minutes and…''

''I know it's difficult, but honey, I need you to close your eyes and breathe. I don't want you to think about anything but breathing. I'll be there for you very soon, I promise.''

''No, no, please don't hang up, please…''

''No, my love, I will never do that. I want you to put your head between your knees, take a deep breath, and I need you to hold it for 3 seconds before you let it go, okay? Can you do that for me, pumpkin?

There were a few moments of silence where Oscar was worried, but when he heard you take deep breaths as he had instructed and your crying faded, he calmed down. It wasn't very common for you to have panic attacks, but that means it must be something very serious for you to have one.

''That's it. You're doing great, babygirl. Are your hands still shaking?''

''N-no''

''Perfect. I'm so proud of you, doll, you did amazing. Now please, tell me what happened?'' Oscar asked and after answering him, he couldn't help but feel the rage forming in his chest. He never liked Karly and, if it was up to him, she would have been fired months ago. ''Oh, baby, that's horrible and no, it's not your fault and you're not throwing a tantrum. You shouldn't go on stage if you're not feeling well and Karly is the one who should take care of things like that, but she didn't. It's not your fault. Don't worry, I'll fix it, okay? I promise.''

''But, how-...?''

''Just to trust me. My mom will be there with you in about 5 minutes, okay? And I'll arrive before you have to go on stage. Leave that to me. You trust me?''

''I do, I trust you''

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dailyop81 Oscar was seen today leaving a Victoria Secret's store afer he went to a Dior one, all of this before attending YN LN's concert. For whom do you think these gifts are for?

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twicetagram so proud of you girlyy! @ ynusername

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Radio Check: Part 2! I'm really excited how this story is turning out; I hope you guys are loving it as much I am.

For the news, I tried to make it like a real blog, let me know if you like it or if you would like me to keep doing it that way!

Tagged list: @xivilivix @multifan-idk @newlifeforus @diorbrxtz @vroomvroomcircuit

If you want to be tagged, just let me know and reblog if you liked it!