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dollgxtz · 2 days

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His Watchful Eye Pt. 6

Word Count: 15.k...(oops)

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, dubcon, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding, comfort sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation if you squint, mentions of murder, nightmares, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, tw for panic attacks, rape flashbacks, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey,

AN: Hi everyone! This is also on A03! Please someone stop me, how the hell did I manage to squeeze in like 4k extra words than last time??? Anyways, enjoy the meal, I definitely have missed writing smut with yan!sylus and reader :3. Also a gentle reminder that reader has no specific skin tone! I just use images that I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you’d like ^^

"I'll make it all disappear," Sylus murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, penetrating the darkest recesses of your fractured psyche. It was as if he possessed the power to reach inside your mind and vaporize the painful memories that clung to you like shackles. "You want to feel so good you won't think about him again?"

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt. 5

The car roars down the empty road, its tires devouring the distance between freedom and your inevitable return to captivity. Luke sits at the wheel, his face completely hidden behind the bird shaped mask. You can’t see his eyes, can’t gauge anything from the way he’s holding himself—just the silent, unyielding presence of the man steering you back to your prison.

You wonder how he sees out of that thing.

Kieran sits beside him, his mask just the same, his fingers tapping a light, almost carefree rhythm on the dashboard as he finishes humming a cheery tune. His face, too, is entirely concealed, leaving you with nothing to hold onto—no eyes to search for clues, no expressions to read.

In the rearview mirror, you sense Kieran shift his head to look at you but can't entirely tell, his hidden gaze offers you nothing. The silence stretches on, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the steady, deliberate breaths of Sylus against your neck, the heat of his body keeping you trapped in more ways than one.

Sylus holds you tight, as if the moment he loosens his grip, you’ll dissolve into the darkness beyond the windows. His large hands are splayed possessively across your thighs, pinning you in place on his lap. Each minute that ticks by in this confined space feels like a countdown to something you can’t define, but the feeling of impending dread settles deep in your bones.

Your mind is a storm, thoughts swirling in an endless, chaotic loop. The gunshot that ended Reese’s life thunders in your head, over and over, refusing to let you go. You can still see it so clearly—the way his body slumped to the floor, lifeless, his eyes wide with the shock of it all.

It feels like it’s eating you alive.

This is your fault.

Yes, Reese was a monster. He’d kidnapped you, lied to you, dragged you into a nightmare you never deserved. But even now, that part of you—the part that still clung to honor, to a sense of right and wrong, the part of an honorable deep space hunter—hated what had happened. You hated yourself for it. He should have been locked away, brought to justice, not gunned down like that.

Your chest tightens. Why didn’t you stop it? You could have, couldn’t you? You didn’t have to let your anger take over, didn’t have to spit those words at him, didn't have to tell him to go to hell. If you hadn’t done that, Sylus wouldn’t have killed him right? The weight of it presses down on you, like you’re suffocating under the guilt.

You can feel it in your bones—the sharp sting of your failure, the way you let your emotions run wild. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to be the reason a person died, no matter how twisted or evil they were. You were supposed to be better than that.

But you weren’t.

And now Reese’s blood is on your hands.

The guilt coils tighter around your chest. You can almost taste the bitterness of it on your tongue, a relentless reminder of how you failed. Maybe if you had just kept your mouth shut. Maybe if you had found some way, any way, to de-escalate the situation, he’d still be alive. You wouldn't have to carry the weight of his death.

But you didn’t. And now it’s too late.

This is your fault.

You feel tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly suck in a breath, forcing them back. You can’t let them fall—not here, not now. You can’t let Sylus see the storm raging inside you. If he sees you faltering, sees your weakness, he’ll think he’s won.

You sense his eyes on you, watching, studying, but thankfully, he says nothing. His grip around you tightens slightly, as if he’s aware of the cracks forming in your resolve, but for once, he stays silent, leaving you alone with the war you’re fighting within yourself.

Instead of crying, you shift, turning your head to focus on the window. The dark tint makes it difficult to see clearly, but not impossible. You can just make out the blurred outlines of buildings as they whip past, vague shadows in the distance.

How much longer would this take? How far had you come?

You think back to the agonizing walk that had led you to the convenience store—the endless hours of trudging through unfamiliar streets, hoping for an escape. Time had lost all meaning then, just like it had now.

Lost in your thoughts, you feel your body betraying you, your exhaustion creeping in. You start to drift off against your will, feeling the heaviness pulling at your eyelids as you sink further into Sylus’s lap. You fight it, not wanting to rest your head on his chest, fearing what you might wake up to. But it’s been days since you’ve had proper rest, and the pull of sleep is relentless.

Minutes stretch into eternity, and despite your best efforts, your body begins to give in. You’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when suddenly, Sylus’s gruff voice cuts through the silence, startling you awake.

“Luke, tell the chefs to have dinner ready in an hour. Kieran, cancel my meeting with the general.”

Luke and Kieran both nod silently, their masked faces giving nothing away, and just as you’re trying to make sense of the words, the car abruptly comes to a stop.

“Yes, boss!” the twins respond with a clipped tones, as if this exchange is routine.

Everything happens so quickly. The moment the car parks, Luke and Kieran scramble out of their seats with swift, practiced efficiency. The sound of the doors opening and shutting echoes in the quiet night. Sylus shifts beneath you, opening his door, and you awkwardly slide off his lap, trying to maintain some semblance of balance as he exits the vehicle. You watch through strained, weary eyes as he steps out, his figure towering over the open car door. Then, he stretches out his hand toward you.

You hesitate.

The gesture, though outwardly polite, is anything but friendly. It’s not an offer—it’s a command, an unspoken reminder of your captivity. The world seems to close in around you, the air growing thicker, and your heart begins to pound in your chest. Your mind races, but there’s nowhere to run.

“If you’re thinking about driving off,” Sylus says with a low chuckle, leaning down to peer into the car, “Luke’s already got the keys, kitten.”

You can’t help but shoot him a sharp glare. You’d thought about running, yes, but not now—not when escape was utterly impossible. The moment passes quickly, and you open your mouth, wanting to explain yourself, to insist you weren’t planning anything. But the words stick in your throat, useless.

Instead, you shut your mouth, swallowing your frustration, and glare at him in defiance. Wordlessly, you reach out and take his hand. His grip is firm, possessive, as he helps you out of the car. Carefully, you step onto the ground, your heart still racing, knowing you’re walking back into your cage.

You glance around as Sylus pulls you forward, your hand still trapped in his. The sight of the mansion looms ahead, its grand, imposing silhouette becoming clearer with each step. Tall iron gates and bird statues loom in front of you, a place that might have been beautiful if it weren’t for the dread curling deep in your chest.

The mansion is more than just a building; it’s a cage, one that now feels even more suffocating as Sylus forces you to walk beside him, hand in hand like you’re something precious. But you know better. This is control, a quiet but undeniable display of power.

With each step toward the front door, the walls of the world seem to close in tighter, and your heart races faster. The echoes of your own footsteps blend with the eerie silence of the night, the only sound that reminds you how very trapped you are in this place—never truly alone, but never free either.

As you walk toward the towering front doors, your eyes drift upward, almost unconsciously, to Sylus. His appearance has always been striking—red eyes that seem to glow with a mix of malice and amusement, and white hair with subtle gray undertones, catching the faint light of the mansion. His angular features, so sharp and perfectly controlled, show signs of wear now. You can see the tension in his brow, the tiredness in the slight creases around his eyes—things you hadn’t noticed before. It makes you wonder how much stress your escape had caused him. How much had he sacrificed in the time you were gone? Had he been frantic, furious?

As if sensing your gaze, Sylus turns his head slightly, catching you in the act of studying him. A smirk plays across his lips, and his crimson eyes flicker with amusement. "What’s the matter? Falling in love?" His voice is a low drawl, teasing, but there’s something predatory in it—like he’s already enjoying this little game.

Heat rises to your face, a mixture of irritation and something else you refuse to name. You look away quickly, forcing yourself to focus on anything but him. His taunts are the last thing you want to entertain, especially when your mind is still spinning with the weight of what lies ahead. Still, the words linger, taunting you as much as his smirk did.

Finally, the massive front doors loom before you, framed by the same wrought iron and heavy stone that always made the mansion feel more like a fortress. Sylus stops, standing tall beside you, his hand still gripping yours as if to remind you that escape, or even defiance, is out of the question.

He gestures toward a small panel embedded into the wall near the door. "Lean down," he orders, the edge of his voice soft yet commanding, "in front of the scanner."

Confused, you glance between him and the scanner, unsure of what he’s planning. You hesitate, but his unblinking red gaze locks onto you, expectant, leaving you little choice. Slowly, you lean forward, lowering yourself until your eyes are aligned with the scanner. A soft beep fills the air, followed by a click as the door unlocks.

You straighten, startled, staring at the door in disbelief. "Wait," you stammer, turning to Sylus. "Aren’t you trying to prevent me from escaping?"

A deep, rumbling laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head, the white strands of his hair shifting slightly as he leans in closer, his red eyes flashing with amusement. "Your eyes," he says with a grin, "can only get you into this place." He leans in further, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Not out."

His words settle heavily in your chest, and a knot of dread tightens in your stomach. Your eyes—the very thing that could open doors here—were also the key to locking you in. Any hope you might have had, any fleeting thought of escape, is crushed in that moment. The world seems to warp, the walls of the mansion now looming around you like a trap. A cage disguised as opulence.

Why had he even bothered with something like that? The thought gnaws at you as you stand at the threshold of the mansion. Did he seriously think you would ever want to come back inside? The idea seems absurd. You were his captive, forced into this nightmare. There was no version of this where you willingly returned.

But as you glance back at him, his smirk still lingering on his face, you wonder if that’s exactly what he wants. He’s a man who thrives on control, on bending people to his will, and the thought that he might relish the idea of making you come back to this place, on your own terms, sends a shiver down your spine. Would he leave you out there in that desolate city, waiting, desperate, only to watch you break down and crawl back inside? The idea feels like a twisted game only he could design—where escape was impossible not just because of physical barriers, but because he'd burrowed deep into your mind.

You shake your head, trying to push the thought away, but the question lingers, settling like a weight in your chest. Did he think that, over time, you’d surrender? That this grand mansion, this cage, would eventually become a place you’d walk into willingly?

Sylus catches your hesitation, his red eyes glinting in the low light. “Strange, isn’t it?” he muses, his voice smooth and casual, as if he could read the questions racing through your mind. “A key that only lets you in. But maybe someday…you'll want to use it.”

His words hang in the air, and you can feel your pulse quicken, anger mixing with the uncertainty swirling inside you. He can’t seriously believe that, can he? That one day you’d walk back into this place of your own accord?

The very thought of it makes your stomach turn. You can’t imagine a future where you wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to stay away from here. Yet, there’s an unsettling confidence in the way he says it, a certainty that leaves you with more questions than answers.

“As if I would ever, prick,” you spat, your voice sharp and defiant.

Sylus laughs, his amusement rolling off him in deep waves, rich and unhurried. His red eyes gleam, locking onto yours with a look that holds something deeper than mere satisfaction. There’s affection there—twisted, yes, but genuine.

“Ah, there she is,” he murmurs, his grin widening. “I was starting to wonder if the N109 Zone had fully broken you.” His grip tightens, not painfully, but firm and reassuring, as he leads you into the grand mansion. To him, this was always meant to be your home, even if you couldn't see it yet.

You grimace at his words, irritation bubbling up inside you, making your heart race. This was still a game to him—a challenge, but not one born of cruelty. No, he found your defiance amusing, like a kitten batting at the hand that feeds it. He loved it, even.

You silently curse him under your breath as he leads you deeper into the grand house, your feet moving mechanically while your mind fights to keep up. The familiar sights come back into view, flooding your senses like a slow wave of nausea. The glossy black tile beneath your feet, the dark, lavish décor that loomed from every corner—it was all the same, just as cold and suffocating as you remembered.

Your eyes flick to the kitchen entryway, a place that had once offered a glimmer of hope, a chance to escape. You remember fleeing into it, heart racing, desperate to get away from all of this, only to be dragged back into Sylus’s grip. The memory gnaws at you, bringing a fresh wave of bitterness.

It makes you sick.

Every inch of this place, every dark aesthetic, seemed designed to remind you of your captivity. This was a cage, no matter how opulent or luxurious it appeared on the surface. And the worst part was the weight of his hand around yours—the possessiveness of his grip, the unspoken reminder that escape, no matter how hard you tried, was out of reach right now.

Sylus gently guides you toward the stairs, his grip still firm, giving you no room to hesitate. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as your feet start moving up the dark, winding staircase. Every step feels heavier than the last, your pulse thrumming in your ears as memories flood back—memories of when you had fled, heart racing, legs burning, desperate to escape this place. You’d made it down these very stairs once before, only to have freedom ripped away from you.

Now, you were being forced back up, step by agonizing step, into the room you had fought so hard to leave behind.

With every step upward, your resolve starts to crumble. The closer you get to that door, the more you feel the weight of your captivity settling in again, suffocating you. The darkened hallways, the oppressive silence—it all presses down on you, reminding you that no matter how much you fight, this is where you’ll always end up. Trapped.

You hesitate when you finally reach the door to the bedroom. The sight of it makes your stomach twist, your feet glued to the floor as a wave of dread washes over you. Everything in your body screams not to go inside, not to let yourself be locked in that room again. To run, to fight.

But Sylus is right behind you, close enough that you can feel his presence, his breath warm and steady, almost unnervingly calm. His grip on your hand softens, his thumb tracing a slow circle against your skin, as if to soothe your frayed nerves. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but laced with that unsettling authority. “Go on, sweetie.”

The way he says it is almost tender, but it only deepens the knot of anxiety in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s real kindness or just another layer of control. That soft, coaxing tone… it unnerves you more than his laughter, more than his taunts.

Despite every fiber of your being wanting to resist, you find yourself moving, stepping forward under the weight of his quiet insistence. You cross the threshold into the room, your body betraying you even as your mind screams to stop. The door clicks shut behind you with an almost imperceptible finality, and just like that, the familiar four dark walls of your prison close in around you once more.

You fight back the tears burning at the edges of your eyes as you step further into the room. The familiar surroundings feel like a punch to the gut—the large, imposing bed where Sylus had forced himself on you many many times, leaving behind scars you hadn’t realized had cut so deep. The leather couch in the center of the room, cold and impersonal, where you’d sat, waiting for the next wave of control to sweep over your life.

It’s too much.

For a moment, your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the weight of it all pressing down with crushing force. The memories—dark, suffocating—swirl around you, making it hard to breathe. You almost crumble right there, unable to withstand the flood of emotions, of trauma that suddenly feels too close to the surface.

But before you can collapse, Sylus is there, his hand wrapping around your arm, guiding you away from the room and into the bathroom. His touch is firm but oddly gentle, a contrast that makes you even more uneasy. He’s pulling you toward the tiled space, and your mind races, trying to understand what’s happening as he begins to carefully, methodically, lift up your shirt to undress you.

“No,” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Your body goes stiff, your hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if holding onto it could somehow protect you. “No,” you repeat, a little louder this time, your voice shaky and uneven. The tremors wrack your body, panic rising in your chest.

Sylus looks at you with something akin to worry, his touch slowing, but not stopping. He doesn’t force you, but his actions continue with a sense of inevitability, as though he believes this is just part of taking care of you, of ensuring you’re where you belong.

"I'm not going to do anything to you now, you just need a shower, sweetie."

But your mind is somewhere else entirely.

Flashes of memory assault you—dim lights, the scent of damp stone, and the overpowering fear of when you were in that basement. The man who had tried to force himself on you, who had pressed you against the bed with a hunger that still made your skin crawl. Your breath hitches as you remember his hands, his twisted smile. The terror, the helplessness—it's all too real, crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

You hadn’t realized just how deeply the trauma had sunk into you. Not until this moment, with Sylus standing in front of you, touching your clothes, his touch too familiar, too close to the horror you’d endured. You had been holding your emotions back but you couldn't now.

You flinch, your body recoiling instinctively as the memories close in around you. Your voice cracks, barely holding back the sob building in your throat. “Please…don’t.”

Sylus’s hands pause, and for the first time that entire day, you see it,—hesitation flickering across his sharp features. His red eyes, usually so calculating and cold, soften just enough for you to notice. His grip loosens, his fingers no longer working to take off your clothes but instead resting lightly on your shoulders, as if afraid of causing more harm.

“Be still,” he says again, his voice quiet and strangely tender. “I’m just trying to help you.”

But his words barely register. The panic has already set in, tightening around your chest like a vice. Your breathing grows shallow, quick—too quick. Your thoughts scatter, your heartbeat hammering so hard it feels like your ribcage might shatter under the pressure. The room spins around you, and suddenly you’re not here anymore. You’re back in the basement, cold stone beneath your feet, that man’s hands on your skin, forcing you against the wall. Forcing you on the bed.

You gasp for air, but each breath comes in ragged, uneven bursts. Your vision blurs, and your knees wobble beneath you. It’s happening all over again. The helplessness, the terror. It’s like your body has been pulled back into that moment, and no matter how much you try to claw your way out, you can’t.

Sylus moves swiftly, pulling you into his arms before you can collapse. His embrace is strong and grounding, his chest solid against your trembling form. “Breathe, sweetie” he whispers, his voice low, soothing, as if trying to coax you back from the edge of your panic. His hand rubs slow circles on your back, the gentle rhythm fighting against the chaos inside you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

But you can’t. The air won’t come. Your breaths are sharp and shallow, your body on the verge of shutting down as you feel the world slipping away. You struggle, pushing weakly at him, but his arms only tighten around you, holding you firmly in place, anchoring you.

“Shhh, shhh…” His voice drops even lower, soft and almost tender. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

The warmth of his body presses against yours, his presence somehow steadying the storm inside you. You eventually cling to him, not because you want to, but because it’s the only thing that keeps you from spiraling into complete panic. His hand continues to stroke your back in slow, measured motions, and though your heart still pounds in your chest, his touch starts to break through the suffocating fog.

“I’ll turn around, okay?” he says gently, as if sensing the root of your fear. “You can undress yourself. I won’t watch.”

There’s something in his tone—something that feels honest, reassuring, like he’s not just saying the words to control you but because he wants you to feel safe. You weakly nod, barely, but he catches it. He loosens his grip and takes a slow step back, raising his hands in surrender, his red eyes locked onto yours.

“I’ll give you some time. You don’t have to rush.”

With a careful turn, he faces away from you, his broad back filling the room but no longer imposing. His actions aren’t threatening; they’re deliberate, giving you the space he knows you need.

Your breathing slows and you blink back tears, but your body still trembles. You wipe the remaining tears from your eyes with a shaky hand, glancing around the bathroom as the panic begins to ebb. And then you notice it—something is different.

The bathtub is gone.

It had been there before, you remember. A large, ornate tub that had taken up the corner of the bathroom, a symbol of something luxurious in this prison of yours. But now, it’s nowhere to be seen. Your brows knit together in confusion as you stare at the empty space.

“Where’s the tub?” you ask, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Sylus doesn’t turn around, but his response is quick and calm, as if he expected the question. “I had it removed,” he says softly, his voice strangely careful, almost cautious. “I didn’t want you to drown yourself again.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and unexpected. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat as the weight of what he’s saying sinks in. He thought…no, he knew. He knew how deep the darkness inside you could go, how close you’d come to actually dying. He’d taken precautions—not just to keep you here, but to keep you alive.

You stand there, frozen, staring at the empty space where the bathtub used to be, and the reality sinks in—there’s truly no escape. Not from this place, not from Sylus, and not from the relentless grip of your own mind. He’s stripped you of every option, every avenue, until there’s nothing left but this.

Nothing left but him.

The exhaustion presses down on you, heavier than ever before. With slow, mechanical movements, you step into the shower, your limbs feeling distant, as if they don’t belong to you anymore. The warm water hits your skin, but it does nothing to ease the weight in your chest. You close your eyes, hoping that the steady stream of water can drown out the chaos inside your head—the panic, the hopelessness, the memories.

But they cling to you, stubborn and unyielding.

Images flash behind your closed eyelids—memories of that basement, the cold stone walls pressing in, the terror that gripped you when the man came too close, his hands reaching, his breath sour. You press your hands against the tiled wall, your body shaking as you fight the memories back, but they keep coming, like waves crashing over you, dragging you under.

And then there’s Reese.

You can’t stop seeing it—the moment his body hit the floor, the sound of the fatal gunshot echoing in your mind like a haunting refrain. His face, twisted in shock and pain. Your fault. The words circle in your mind like a dark mantra, mixing with the trauma of that basement. It’s all tangled together, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it stop.

"Go to hell, Reese."

The water cascades down your back, but it doesn’t wash away the guilt. It doesn’t drown out the horror. The images of blood and brain matter sliding down concrete walls.

You press your forehead against the cold tile, letting the water soak through your hair as you fight the rising tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. You want to believe that there’s a way out, some form of freedom—maybe not from this mansion, but at least from the grip of your own mind. But right now, standing under the relentless stream of water, you know that freedom is further away than ever.

No matter how much you fight it, you’re trapped. Inside this house. Inside yourself.

And the worst part? Sylus knows it.

You feel the tears begin to well up, hot and uncontainable, spilling over before you even realize you’ve let them go. They mix with the water, disappearing beneath the steady stream of the shower, unseen, unclaimed by anyone but you. For the first time in what feels like forever, no one is watching. Not even Sylus.

You let the sobs come quietly, your body trembling as the tears fall, merging with the warm cascade. It’s a strange relief, knowing that in this moment, he isn’t witnessing your breaking point. Sylus had made it clear—your pain, your misery, your tears, they all belonged to him.

But right now, this moment is yours.

As the tears fall silently, you press your forehead against the cool tile, letting yourself cry in a way you hadn’t allowed before. The sobs are shaky, barely audible over the sound of the water, but they are real, raw, and they are yours alone. The stream washes them away before they have the chance to leave a trace, like they never existed at all.

Even as your heart aches and the trauma still weighs you down, there’s a strange comfort in the tears that go unnoticed. For just these few minutes, you aren’t his broken thing to fix or keep. You’re just a person, trying to survive, trying to breathe.

And even though the water doesn’t drown out all the pain or the memories, it gives you enough space to let the emotions pour out—if only for a little while.

Xavier’s breath came in shallow bursts as he navigated the empty streets of Linkon City, the familiar hum of his hunter’s watch glowing faintly on his wrist. His blue eyes flicked between the road and the holographic screen hovering just above the watch face. The blue light illuminated his face, highlighting the sharp focus in his eyes. The signal from the phone booth was still there, blinking steadily. That was his main lead—the last place you’d been before everything went silent.

His mind replayed the sound of your voice from the call, every word etched into his memory. Kidnapped. You hadn’t said much, but the panic in your tone had been unmistakable. The moment the call cut, something in him snapped. There was no hesitation, no second thought—he had left almost immediately, speeding through the city, your trembling words echoing in his head.

"Yeah, his name is S—"

Your words echoed in Xavier's mind, over and over, like a haunting refrain. You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before the call had abruptly cut out, leaving him with nothing but that single, meaningless syllable. S. It replayed in his head as the car sped forward, finally breaking free from the limits of Linkon City and onto the dark, winding road that would lead him toward the N109 Zone.

He had tried to call back the second the line went dead, his hands trembling as he frantically redialed the number, but it was no use. The call wouldn’t connect. Maybe you had run out of money for the payphone. Maybe something far worse had happened.

The not knowing gnawed at him.

Who was S? The question had burned in his mind from the moment you said it. A name. It had to be a name. But just that one letter wasn’t enough to figure out who this person was, let alone why they had taken you. He cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the dark road stretched out before him.

Whoever S was, they were dangerous enough to bring you to the N109 Zone. That part made his blood run cold. This place wasn’t just desolate—it was the kind of area that most people in the city pretended didn’t even exist. It was lawless, forgotten. A place where the desperate went to disappear, where the city’s darkness festered beneath the surface and on top of it, darkness everywhere you turn.

But why there? What did this S want with you? And why take you so far from the city?

He replayed the phone call in his mind again, your voice shaky but steady as you’d tried to tell him what had happened. The fear had been there, simmering just beneath your words, but you had clearly fought to stay calm.

Xavier’s heart pounded harder with every mile. There was something else that bothered him, something gnawing at the edges of his mind. Why had you been targeted? You were strong, capable—smart. One of the best deep space hunters around. You wouldn’t have let yourself be taken easily. That meant whoever S was, he’d planned this, thought it through, and knew how to get to you. That thought made Xavier’s stomach twist. This wasn’t random. It was calculated.

The car hit a bump in the road, jolting him back to the present, but his mind still raced. He needed to find you, needed to get to you before this S—whoever he was—did something unforgivable. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being out there, scared and alone, waiting for help that felt too far away.

He glanced at the holographic display on his hunter’s watch again, watching as the faint signal pulsed from the N109 Zone. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was the best lead he had. That phone booth, that single clue you’d left him before the call ended, was his only connection to you now.

Who are you, S? The question echoed in his mind as he pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the car roaring down the empty highway.

He didn’t know what awaited him in the N109 Zone, but he knew one thing for sure: he was prepared to fight like hell for you.

After what felt like an eternity, buildings whipping past him, Xavier finally pulled up to the phone booth, his heart hammering in his chest. The headlights illuminated the cracked pavement and the battered glass of the booth, standing alone at the edge of the desolate lot like a ghost from another time. But of course, you weren’t there. The booth was empty. You were nowhere to be found.

Xavier’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he sat there for a moment, staring at the empty phone booth. His mind raced, thoughts tangled in frustration and fear. You had told him you would call back—you had said you were going to that strange man’s house, and then you’d come back to tell him what it looked like. But now, standing there in the middle of the N109 Zone, it felt like that plan had shattered into a thousand pieces.

He stepped out of the car, the cold air hitting him like a slap to the face as he approached the booth. His eyes scanned the area, up and down, looking for any sign of you. But there was nothing. Just silence. The eerie kind that made his stomach twist with unease.

The booth was run-down, even worse up close. He stared at it, his thoughts flickering between panic and regret. Should he wait for you to come back, as you said you would? Or had something already gone terribly wrong? Every second that passed felt like a ticking clock, time slipping away, leaving him more uncertain than ever.

He leaned against the booth, raking a hand through his hair, trying to decide. You had been so determined—so sure you could handle this. You’d said you were going to check out this strange man’s house, get some rest, and then return. But the thought of you going there alone, to that man—whoever he was—made him sick.

I should’ve told you not to go with him.

The regret hit him hard, twisting deep in his chest. He should’ve been more forceful, should’ve stopped you. The second you’d mentioned this man, this stranger who had somehow convinced you to follow him, alarm bells had gone off in his head. He had sensed something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he told you to stay away? Why hadn’t he made sure you didn’t go?

But you were strong, capable—you had always been stubborn, determined to handle things on your own. And he had trusted you to do that. But now…now you were missing. And he was standing in an empty lot with no idea where you were or who had taken you.

Xavier clenched his fists, staring at the phone booth as if willing it to give him answers. The last place you had been. He thought about turning around, driving through the N109 Zone, checking every corner, every building. But the reality of how vast and dangerous this area was made him hesitate. He didn’t even know who to look for. S. The mysterious man whose name had been cut off by the phone’s disconnect. That wasn’t enough.

Xavier’s stomach growled, pulling him from the fog of his frantic thoughts. He hadn’t eaten properly in hours, and the adrenaline that had been fueling him was finally wearing thin. He gritted his teeth, the pang of hunger a sharp reminder of just how long it had been since he’d stopped moving. He didn’t want to waste time, but he knew he needed to eat, to think straight.

Reluctantly, he climbed back into the car and started driving, scanning the streets of the N109 Zone for anything that looked remotely functional. This part of the city was basically wasteland—most of the buildings were crumbling, their windows broken, and the streets were nearly empty. He almost decided to give up before spotting a flicker of neon in the distance.

It was a convenience store—small, dingy, and barely lit—but it was open. The cracked neon sign buzzed weakly, casting a dull glow over the entrance. It didn’t look promising, but it was all he had. He pulled up, the car’s tires crunching over the broken pavement as he parked.

Xavier stepped out, his eyes narrowing as he approached the entrance. The store looked as worn out as the rest of the area, its windows covered in grime and dust, but the lights inside told him it was still in business. He pushed the door open, the warmth of the store enveloping him.

The place reeked of stale air and something faintly metallic. Shelves lined the narrow aisles, most of them half-stocked but there was variety. Xavier grabbed a few snacks—whatever looked edible—and made his way to the counter, where a grimy man with disheveled hair and yellowed teeth sat behind the register, staring at him with a disinterested scowl.

“Do you take gold?” Xavier asked, pulling out a small pouch from his pocket. It wasn’t unusual for places outside Linkon City to not take gold, as a lot of places were still living in the past. Couldn't hurt to ask though.

The man behind the counter laughed, a rough, guttural sound that made Xavier’s skin crawl. “Gold, huh? Figures. You Linkcunt folks just keep coming in here actin’ like it’s worth more than it is.” He leaned forward, eyeing Xavier with something between amusement and suspicion.

"No, we don't take it."

Xavier pocketed the small pouch, unsurprised by the man's harsh words, “You said Linkon folks? Who else from the city has been here?” His tone was casual, but his heart skipped a beat. Maybe someone else had seen you?

"Linkcunt," the man corrected with a sneer. The man’s eyes flicked up, narrowing slightly. “Why, you looking for someone?” He eyed Xavier and leaned back in his chair, his voice taking on an edge of curiosity.

Xavier pressed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Maybe. Just wondering who else might’ve been through here recently.”

The man scratched his stubbled chin, considering. “Well, there was this disheveled-looking girl who came through a little while ago. Had a lot of attitude, that one. Demanding help. Swiped some snacks and shit when I wasn’t looking. Took off before I could do anything about it.” He shrugged, clearly not too bothered by the theft. “But that’s basically all I know.”

Xavier’s heart stopped. A disheveled girl… Could it have been you?

His pulse quickened, the pieces clicking together. You must have come through here before disappearing. The man didn’t seem to know much more, but this was a sign. You had been close—you had been right here.

“What’d she look like?” Xavier asked, trying not to sound too eager.

The man waved a hand lazily. “Didn't look that closely to be honest. Bitch looked like hell, though. Clothes all messed up, like she’d been through something. But she was quick—didn’t stick around long enough for me to really notice much else. Don’t know where she went after that. Just up and vanished with my stock”

Xavier nodded, feeling a surge of both hope and frustration. You’d been here, that much was clear. But now you were gone again, slipping through his fingers like a ghost.

"You really shouldn't talk about women like that".

He paid for the snacks with some dollar bills he kept in his car for out of city trips, and turned to leave, leaving the disgruntled cashier. His mind already racing to figure out where you could’ve gone from here.

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back outside, the cold night air hitting him like a wall. You’d been here. Not long ago, from the sound of it. He could almost picture it—your disheveled form rushing through the aisles, grabbing whatever you could before vanishing into the shadows again. You were close, too close to give up now. But where had you gone?

He clenched his jaw, glancing around the empty streets. There were too many directions, too many places you could have disappeared to. The N109 Zone was vast, a labyrinth of forgotten corners and abandoned buildings, and there was no telling where you might have run off to next.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of the little he knew. You had come here to get food, maybe out of desperation—running on fear and adrenaline. And then, like the man said, you were gone. No tracks, no sign of where you’d been taken.

Xavier pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing over the faded image of a sleek pair of boots. It was the same pamphlet the shoe store clerk had given him earlier, and now, it seemed like his only other lead. A shoe store… It might seem like a stretch, but he had learned to follow even the smallest clues. If he couldn’t figure out where you had gone, maybe he could figure out more about the man who had taken you. And starting with something as small as his shoes might just be the break he needed.

He studied the pamphlet again, his eyes narrowing as he recalled his brief conversation with the clerk. The shoes had been expensive, high-end—definitely not something most people in the N109 Zone would be wearing.

But S wasn’t like most people, was he?

Xavier’s mind spun as he hurriedly typed the address from the pamphlet into his hunter’s watch, the holographic screen glowing softly as it processed the information. The watch pinged, highlighting the location of the store in the city. It wasn’t far, but it was a place he wouldn’t have expected someone from the N109 Zone to frequent.

If S was wearing those shoes, it meant he had money—or at least access to it. That was something Xavier could work with. People like that left trails, even in places where they thought they could stay hidden.

He started the car again, his pulse quickening as the watch projected the route onto the windshield. The shoe store was his next stop, and if he was lucky, he could get more information about who S really was. Maybe someone there had seen him, or better yet, could point him in the direction of where he lived or did business.

As the car sped toward the heart of the city, Xavier’s determination sharpened. He was getting closer to answers—closer to finding you. If he could learn more about this mysterious man, this “S,” then maybe, just maybe, he could figure out where you were being held.

As Xavier sped through the dark, crumbling streets of the N109 Zone, the world outside his car blurred into a mix of shadows and faint streetlights. His mind was focused on finding you, piecing together the next step in his search. Then, out of nowhere, a piercing scream shattered the stillness.

His foot slammed on the brake, the car lurching to a stop as his heart raced. The sound of the scream echoed through the desolate streets, raw and desperate. He scanned the area frantically, searching for the source of the cry for help. Then he saw her—a woman stumbling into the dim light from a broken streetlamp, clutching her side, her face twisted in pain.

“Help! Please, help me!” she gasped, her voice cracking with panic as she looked directly at him, her body collapsing onto the cracked pavement.

Xavier’s hunter instincts kicked in immediately. He couldn’t just leave someone like that. He shoved the car door open and rushed toward her, his eyes darting around, looking for any potential danger. The streets of the N109 Zone were unpredictable, but he couldn't just ignore someone in need.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone urgent but calm as he knelt down beside her.

The woman’s breathing was shallow, her face pale and contorted with pain. She clutched her ribs, wincing with every breath. “I don’t know,” she whimpered, “I was attacked. I need help… please…” Her eyes were wild with fear, darting between Xavier and the shadows beyond, as if expecting someone—or something—to come after her at any moment.

Xavier’s heart pounded, his mind racing. “I’ll get you some help,” he assured her, reaching for his phone. But as he fumbled for it, he felt a shift—something wasn’t right.

The woman’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, her panic momentarily replaced by something colder, more calculating. Before he could react, a blur of movement rushed behind him.

A sharp clink. The keys.

Xavier’s blood ran cold as he spun around, just in time to see a man slip past him, keys glinting in his hand. The stranger, quick and agile, darted toward Xavier’s car, jumping into the driver’s seat. How did I not see this coming? The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—this was a setup.

“Hey!” Xavier yelled, lunging forward, his heart hammering in his chest. But it was too late.

The woman, now standing tall with no trace of pain or injury, smirked at him, her expression smug and mocking. “Thanks for the ride, city boy,” she sneered, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she ran toward the passenger side of the car. She moved easily now, as if the earlier fear and desperation had been nothing but an act. It had been.

Xavier’s mind raced as he sprinted toward the car, but the engine roared to life before he could even get close. The man in the driver’s seat gunned the accelerator, the tires screeching against the pavement as the car sped away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

His heart sank as he watched the taillights disappear into the darkness, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. His car. His keys. Everything—gone in an instant. And with it, any chance of quickly finding you.

He'd have to walk on foot.

The steam from the shower still clung to your skin as you stepped out, your mind swirling in a haze of exhaustion and hunger. Your stomach growled loudly, reminding you just how long it had been since you last ate. The hot water had done little to wash away the weight of everything pressing down on you—the memories, the fear—but it had, at least, cleaned the grime from your body. You were left feeling raw and exposed, unsure of what was coming next.

You opened the glass door of the shower and grabbed a towel laying on the counter, wrapping it around yourself quickly before exiting.

You saw Sylus had elected to lean against the doorframe when you stepped out, and he turned around to face you. His eyes, those sharp, red eyes, softened when they met yours. "The chef has prepared food for you," he said, his voice gentle. The tenderness in his tone felt unnerving, like everything else with him, but the thought of food was too tempting to resist.

But before you could respond, he gestured to a set of neatly prepared shopping bags laid on his bed outside the bathroom. “I want you to open these first. Consider them gifts I had planned for you… before you ran off.” The edge in his words lingered, but his expression remained neutral. You vaguely remembered him clipping your nails while you were in the bathtub, a pile of shopping bags at his feet.

Ah, you had forgotten all about those. You wrapped the towel around yourself tighter, a knot of discomfort forming in your stomach.

You hesitated for a moment, then slowly approached the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you began to take out the "gifts". The first bag contained delicate pieces of underwear—soft, lace, and undeniably expensive. You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of unease crawl up your spine.

“Gifts for me? Or for you to see on me?” you muttered, unable to hide the malice in your voice, the bitterness slipping out.

Sylus’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile, his red eyes flickering with that familiar, unsettling glint. "Why not both?," he replied softly, the weight of his gaze lingering on you as though he found your defiance amusing.

These weren’t just clothes; they were symbols of his control, of how he saw you. Like you were his little doll to dress up. Still, you nodded hesitantly, accepting the garments with quiet reluctance.

Beneath the underwear were more practical clothes—soft, comfortable tops, leggings, and dresses. Each piece was chosen carefully, and despite yourself, you appreciated the effort, if only because you were desperate for something to wear to avoid Sylus's lingering gaze on your damp body. You chose a simple, slightly loose white dress, letting it fall over your damp skin. Then slipped on one of the many underwear he had bought for you. Sylus watched you quietly, a small smile playing on his lips as he waited for you to finish.

“You might've lost a few pounds from stress, once you start eating more, it’ll fit better,” he said casually, his tone matter-of-fact as though he hadn’t just casually referenced your weakened state. The words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of how long you'll be trapped here. Then, with a surprising softness, he added, “You look beautiful nonetheless, honey.”

“Honey.” A new pet name.

Surprisingly, instead of making you grimace like his usual endearments, it sends an unwelcome heat crawling across your face. You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to react, but the flush is unmistakable. Against your will, your gaze drops, and you look away from him, the sudden surge of embarrassment catching you off guard.

Sylus notices, of course. His smile deepens slightly, a quiet satisfaction flickering in his eyes as if he can sense the effect his words have on you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his gaze on you—steady, watchful—his presence filling the room in an unnerving way that makes it harder to breathe.

He extended his hand toward you, the gesture oddly tender and yet impossible to trust. You hesitated, unsure if taking it would solidify his power over you further or if refusing would draw out something worse. But you take it, residing to the fact that you didn't have much choice.

He moved toward the door, your hand held in his grip. “Come,” he said. “The food is waiting.”

Your stomach growled again, and despite the tension between you and him, you found yourself trailing after him, your body driven by the gnawing hunger you couldn’t ignore. As you stepped into the dining hall, the rich, mouth-watering aroma of freshly prepared food hit you like a wave.

The table was filled with an extravagant feast. Platters of roasted meats sat alongside bowls of vibrant vegetables, glistening under the kitchen lights. There were thick, tender cuts of lamb, still steaming from the oven, their edges crisp and golden. Roasted chicken, its skin perfectly browned and seasoned with herbs, sat atop a bed of caramelized onions and garlic. Beside them, a platter of seared duck breast, cooked to perfection, its fat rendered into a rich, savory glaze.

On another side of the table were bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, rich and buttery, their surface dusted with flecks of chives. A dish of roasted root vegetables—carrots, parsnips, and beets—was arranged in a beautiful display, their edges crisp and caramelized, drizzled with a balsamic glaze. There was a vibrant salad of mixed greens, tossed with fresh pomegranate seeds, crumbled goat cheese, and candied walnuts, the dressing a light, tangy vinaigrette that made your mouth water.

A basket of freshly baked bread sat in the center of the table, the rolls warm and soft, their golden crusts begging to be torn apart. Small bowls of whipped butter, infused with honey and herbs, accompanied them, the scent sweet and savory.

But it didn’t stop there. Desserts, too, were laid out, tempting you even further. A decadent chocolate tart with a glossy ganache topping, dusted with powdered sugar and fresh raspberries, sat next to a platter of delicate fruit tarts, their centers brimming with custard and topped with glistening berries. A tower of macarons in various pastel shades—lavender, pistachio, rose—completed the lavish display.

Sylus pulled out a chair for you, his smile widening as he watched your eyes dart from one dish to the next. "Well don't just stare, sit down".

The sight and smell overwhelmed you, and for a moment, you felt like a prisoner presented with a royal meal, knowing full well the chains still bound you. But hunger gnawed at your insides, and no matter how conflicted you were, your body screamed for sustenance as you sat.

"Eat," Sylus urged, taking a seat across from you. His eyes never left yours, watching, waiting for your reaction.

Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for a piece of bread, the warmth of it soothing in your palm. You tore it open, the soft dough yielding beneath your fingers, and dipped it into the whipped honey butter, taking a small bite. The flavors burst in your mouth, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief.

The food was perfect—too perfect. And as you took another bite, you couldn’t help but wonder: was this all part of the game too? Or was it simply nourishment after the storm?

Sylus leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you as you ate, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak, just watched you in that unsettling, familiar way—like he was always studying you, always thinking, always planning. His silence, for once, was almost a relief, allowing you to focus on the food and ignore his presence as much as possible.

You couldn’t help it. The hunger gnawed at you, and the feast before you was impossible to resist. The flavors were rich, the textures comforting, and before you realized it, you had cleared almost four plates. Each bite had momentarily dulled the chaos in your mind, letting you push aside the fear, the memories, and the discomfort that still lingered in your chest.

Sylus didn’t comment as you reached for more, nor did he interrupt. He seemed content to let you eat in peace, his eyes never leaving you but his lips remaining closed. It wasn’t until you finally pushed the last plate away, feeling the fullness settle in your stomach, that the silence between you felt heavier.

The weight of exhaustion began to settle over you. The warmth from the food and the sheer relief of being full left you feeling heavy, your eyelids growing heavier by the minute. You hadn’t realized just how tired you were until that moment. Your body felt like it had finally reached its limit.

Sylus stood up, breaking the silence. His movements were smooth and deliberate as he pushed his chair back, his gaze never leaving you. “You must be tired,” he said softly, the same unnerving tenderness in his voice as before. “It’s time for bed.”

You tensed slightly at his words, but your body, worn down by hunger and stress, didn’t have the strength to protest. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid of what might come out if you did. There was no point in resisting, not tonight.

Sylus moved toward you, his hand extending again as if offering comfort. You hesitated, looking at his outstretched hand, but you didn’t have the energy to reject him. You let him guide you, his touch gentle yet firm as he led you toward the bedroom you were dreading your return to.

You don’t remember when exactly you slipped into unconsciousness, but the world had faded into nothing after Sylus lifted you into the bed. His arms were unexpectedly gentle, cradling you with a kind of care that felt entirely out of place. You were vaguely aware of him pulling the blankets up around you, tucking you in, but then everything went dark. The exhaustion you had been fighting all day finally consumed you, and you sank into the deepest sleep you’d felt in what seemed like forever.

There was comfort in the darkness, the kind of peace that only comes with complete surrender to sleep. No fear, no panic, just the void. You floated there, cradled in warmth. But soon, the darkness gave way to a dream, vivid and consuming.

Xavier appeared first, stepping out of the shadows of your mind. His familiar figure brought an immediate sense of relief. His ashy blonde hair fell into his face, and his striking blue eyes bore into you with the same warmth and intensity that always made your heart flutter. There he was, just as you remembered—strong, dependable, and safe. He reached out, his hand extending toward you, and without hesitation, you moved toward him.

The moment your hand met his, your heart melted, the overwhelming sense of security flooding through you. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt safe. You felt home.

But something changed.

Xavier’s gaze, once filled with affection and care, shifted. His eyes darkened, turning cold, distant. The warmth you’d found in his presence quickly evaporated, replaced by something harsh and unfamiliar. His lips curled downward, a shadow crossing his face, and his grip on your hand tightened. The shift was sudden, the dream warping around you like a twisted reflection of reality.

"Why did you want him dead?" His voice cut through the dream, sharp and cold, the softness you’d expected from him nowhere to be found.

You blinked, confusion gripping you as his words sank in. “Huh?” Your face faltered, your heart pounding in your chest. His cold stare drilled into you, and you could feel something inside you cracking under its weight. What was happening?

"You're the reason Reese is dead," Xavier said, his words landing like a punch to the gut. His voice, usually so steady, so comforting, was now filled with anger, with accusation. His grip on your hand turned painful, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost crushing force.

“No...” Your voice wavered, barely able to push the word out as your mind reeled. “That wasn’t my fault, it was Sy—” You tried to explain, to say anything to stop the blame from settling on your shoulders. But the words caught in your throat, and you couldn’t finish. You couldn’t get them out.

His face twisted, contorting with anger and something that looked like disappointment. His blue eyes, once a source of warmth, were now filled with icy judgment, the coldness sinking into your skin like knives. His grip tightened further, pain shooting through your hand, but no matter how hard you tried to pull away, you couldn’t escape.

The dream around you blurred, the edges of reality warping and distorting. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, unsteady, while Xavier's figure loomed larger, his presence suffocating. The weight of his blame pressed down on your chest like a stone, suffocating you, filling your lungs with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

You tried to explain again, your voice strangled by the intensity of the moment, but Xavier wasn’t listening. His hand was like a vice, his fingers digging into your skin as his gaze pinned you in place. His words repeated in your mind, echoing louder and louder—“You're the reason he’s dead.”

Xavier's face began to twist, distorting into something grotesque, something no longer human. His once gentle features morphed and stretched unnaturally, his blue eyes darkening into hollow, accusing pits. His grip on your hand became unbearable, crushing the bones in your fingers as his form continued to change, shifting from the man you loved into a nightmare. The warmth that had briefly comforted you was gone, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling cold.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to pull away, but the force holding you was relentless. You stared in horror as Xavier’s form became unrecognizable, his skin taking on a gray, cracked texture, his mouth elongating into a grimace filled with sharp teeth. His eyes, now nothing more than deep, empty voids, bore into you with a hatred that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re a murderer,” the figure spat, its voice now a low, guttural growl that echoed in your ears, far louder than it should have been. “Murderer.” The word hit you like a physical blow, making your entire body tense as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you desperately tried to defend yourself. “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t—”

“You have blood on your hands!” the figure roared, its voice shaking the world around you. Xavier’s face continued to twist and contort, veins bulging from his neck, his body looming over you like a towering monster. “You told him to die!”

The words echoed again and again, crashing into you with the force of a tidal wave. The weight of guilt slammed into your chest, almost knocking the wind out of you as the grotesque version of Xavier leaned in closer. His voice became more vicious, more unforgiving. “You let him die, and now the blood is on your hands!”

You looked down, and your breath caught in your throat. Blood. It was everywhere—on your hands, dripping from your fingers, pooling at your feet. Panic surged through you, your heart racing as you tried to wipe it away, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, the blood only seemed to multiply, staining your skin, your clothes, everything around you.

“You’ll never wash it off!” the figure screamed, its voice shaking with rage. “Never!” It grabbed your shoulders, shaking you violently as it continued to scream. “You’re a murderer!

You struggled, trying to pull free, but the figure’s grip was unbreakable. The dream spiraled into chaos, the world around you collapsing into darkness as the screams filled the air, overwhelming your senses. The blood seemed to rise like a tide, crawling up your arms, soaking through your skin. You gasped for air, but it was suffocating, the guilt swallowing you whole.

“Murderer!” the figure roared again, louder this time, shaking you until your vision blurred. “Murderer! Murderer!"

Tears streamed down your face as you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but the accusations wouldn’t stop. The guilt, the blood, the rage—it was all around you, suffocating you, crushing you.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the figure stopped. It stood over you, silent now, but its eyes—those hollow, accusing voids—were locked onto you. “You can never escape what you’ve done,” it whispered, the venom in its voice chilling you to the core.

You shot up in bed, heart hammering in your chest, a scream tearing through your throat before you even knew what was happening. The sheets clung to your sweat-soaked skin as you gasped for breath, the nightmare still gripping you in its suffocating hold. Your hands shook violently, fingers instinctively rubbing at your palms, expecting to see the blood, the thick, crimson stain that had haunted you moments before.

But there was no blood.

The room was dark, dimly lit by a lamp settled on the nightstand. Sylus sat beside you, awake, casually reading a book. His red eyes glanced up from the pages, calm and steady, showing no sign of surprise at your sudden outburst.

“You’re okay,” Sylus said softly, his voice low but steady. He closed the book, setting it aside as he reached out, pulling you closer, into his arms with a gentle grip. The warmth of his body on yours was meant to be comforting, but the lingering terror from the dream made his touch feel heavier, suffocating.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, the echoes of the nightmare still gripping you. The blood, the screams, the weight of guilt—it all felt so real, too real to shake off. Your hands trembled in your lap, still trying to rub away the invisible stain that wouldn’t leave.

“Shhh,” Sylus soothed, his voice soft as he stroked your back with deliberate calmness. “It was just a nightmare, kitten.”

But his words barely penetrated the thick fog of panic swirling in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breathing, but the image of Xavier’s cold, accusing gaze still lingered in the corners of your thoughts, leaving an ache in your chest that refused to fade.

Sylus’s gaze never wavered from you. He was patient, his grip around you getting stronger as you fought to regain control, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern, though it was impossible to tell how much of it was real. He watched you wordlessly, waiting patiently for your breathing to slow as he rubbed your back in soothing motions.

And you did, eventually. Slowly, your heartbeat began to slow, the cold sweat drying on your skin as the nightmare finally started to loosen its grip. You were still shaken, but reality was settling back in.

Sylus smiled, his eyes softening slightly. “Good girl,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You feel better?"

"It's not my fault..." you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as tears began streaming down your face, hot and unstoppable. The weight of the nightmare still pressed against your chest, the guilt wrapping itself around your heart. "Reese... I told him to die, kinda. But you killed him!"

Your words trembled in the air, and for a moment, the room felt suffocatingly silent. Sylus’s arm stilled on your back, his red eyes watching you closely. His face remained calm, unreadable, but something flickered behind his gaze—curiosity, perhaps, or even amusement. He began rubbing your back again.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady as he spoke. “I killed him because he took what was mine,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You didn’t pull the trigger, I did. Don’t fool yourself, sweetie.” His fingers gently wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks, lingering on your skin a second longer than necessary.

“His fate was sealed the moment he touched you. You’re not responsible for his death.”

Your heart ached, the confusion and guilt twisting inside you. The memory of Reese's lifeless body, the sound of the gunshot, played over and over in your mind. You knew that Sylus had been the one to end it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that your words, your anger, had driven the final nail in the coffin.

"But I—" you started, your voice cracking, but Sylus shushed you gently, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Don’t burden yourself,” he whispered, his voice soothing but firm. “Reese was a pest, and pests are dealt with. It wasn’t your fault. You said what you needed to say in the moment” His eyes softened, his gaze almost affectionate. “And now, you’re here—with me. Safe.”

"Am I?" you sobbed, the weight of your emotions crashing down on you all at once. The tears came faster, and with them, the memory of that night—the night Sylus had taken everything into his own hands, literally. The sharp pain, the feeling of your skin being sliced open as he calmly removed your birth control implant, resurfaced in vivid detail. The raw fear that had gripped you then returned now, surging like a wave you couldn't hold back.

"At least Reese never hurt me," you choked out between sobs, your voice trembling, barely holding together. "You, on the other hand..."

Your hand instinctively went to your arm, tracing the faint scar left behind from when Sylus had decided, without a second thought, that he would control every part of you—inside and out. The scar was still there, but it wasn’t just on your skin. The memory of that violation ran deeper than any wound that could heal.

Sylus’s expression didn’t shift at your words. His calm gaze remained fixed on you, though there was a slight narrowing of his eyes. His hand paused in its comforting motions, hovering just inches from you, as if calculating how to respond.

“I did what was necessary,” he said, his voice calm, controlled, almost dismissive. "Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. Why are you crying over a man that handed you and countless others over for crack?"

The flood of emotions broke through all at once at his words.

"Because-because he wasn't supposed to die. Hunters aren't the reason people die, we save people...he could've went to jail he wasn't supposed to-"

You crumpled, sobs wracking your body as the weight of everything—of all you had endured—became too much to bear. Memories you had tried to suppress, to bury deep within you, rose to the surface like dark waves crashing against fragile walls.

The man from the basement. His hands grabbing you, the smell of his breath, the sheer terror that had paralyzed you as he tried to force himself on you. You had fought, screamed, but the memory was still there, etched into your mind like a brand that would never fade. The nightmare you had just woken from had only served to rip open the scars you had so desperately tried to heal.

Your words came out in broken fragments, incoherent between sobs. "That other man…he tried… I couldn’t— I couldn’t stop him…" Your voice cracked, your chest heaving as you babbled through the memories, the trauma wrapping itself around you like a suffocating shroud. "He—he wouldn’t stop… I couldn’t breathe, I was so scared…"

You weren’t even sure Sylus was listening. You couldn’t look at him. Everything blurred together, your mind overwhelmed by the pain, the helplessness, the feeling of being trapped again in that moment. You curled in on yourself, trembling as the sobs became uncontrollable, the terror of that night suffocating you all over again.

Then you felt it—Sylus’s hand, soft and deliberate, gently cradling your cheek. He leaned in, his voice softening into something almost unbearably tender, a tone you never thought he was capable of.

"Poor thing, you're such a mess," he murmured.

His eyes lingered on you with a mix of pity and affection, as though you were something fragile, something cherished. It was as if watching you unravel before him caused his heart to ache.

“I can help you forget,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away your tears with slow, careful strokes. “Let me take the pain away, kitten. You don’t have to carry it anymore.”

His words were soothing, like a lullaby coaxing you away from the edge of your breakdown. His touch was uncharacteristically soft, his presence surrounding you like a cocoon, making it harder to pull yourself out of the depths of your despair. For a brief moment, the way he looked at you—like he truly cared—made you falter.

You hesitate at his words. The rational part of your mind urged you to turn away, not to respond. To pull yourself from his embrace and fight him. But the other part, muddled by trauma, drove you to stay. To seek comfort, any comfort, even in his arms.

From your captor of all people.

“Yes…” you whimpered, blinking away tears. You didn’t know why you answered that way—your mind screamed at you to stop—but you found yourself reaching out, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

Anything. Anything to make this pain stop.

His lips crashed against yours before you could even register what was happening, consuming you in a kiss so passionate it bordered on painful. All rational thought evaporated as his tongue plundered the recesses of your mouth, stroking along your palate and tangling with your own tongue in a sensual dance as old as time itself.

You were consumed, caught in the storm of his touch, unable to think beyond the overwhelming need to escape the agony of your memories—even if only for a moment.

Your hands flew to his face of their own accord, fingers threading through his hair as you clung to him like a drowning woman gasping for air. You kissed him back with a fervor born of desperation, pouring all your pent-up anguish and trauma into the hungry clash of lips and teeth. The two of you panted against each other, like animals ready to tear each other to shreds.

Some distant part of you screamed that this was mistake, that doing this with him willingly was certainly wrong. He had kidnapped you after all. Stolen you. But it was drowned out by the pounding of your heart, the ache of need pulsing between your thighs. His hands slid under your dress, calloused palms skimming over hypersensitive flesh, and you arched into his touch with a whimper.

"Sylus..." you whined, already feeling the desperate ache reach your core.

"I know, kitten. Patience, we just started" he said, amusement adorning his face.

His lips found yours again, hot and demanding, silencing any lingering protests. You melted into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and danger that left you craving more. His fingers find the hem of your underwear, wasting no time to remove the obstacle from your wet depths.

Your whole body trembled as Sylus's lips blazed a path down your body, trailing molten kisses along the column of your throat. Each brush of his mouth against your sensitive skin sent electricity singing through your veins, igniting another fiery ache between your thighs. When he nudged aside the fabric of your dress to nuzzle the slick flesh of your cunt, you let out a strangled moan, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you.

The tip of his nose grazed your swollen bud, and your back arched off the bed, every nerve ending sparking with raw pleasure. "Nnnngh…" you whimpered, hips bucking instinctively toward his teasing touch.

Sylus's deep, resonant chuckle rumbled through you, vibrating against your core in a way that made your toes curl. "So responsive," he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over your dripping folds. "Tell me, kitten-were you this wet for him? Did he make you shiver and moan like this when he touched you?"

He grips your thighs almost possessively, waiting for your answer.

His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head, plunging you back into reality. Shame crashed over you in nauseating waves, your arousal doused by the realization of how easily Sylus manipulated your body. Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut, fists clenching in the bedding.

"No," you choked out, voice brittle. "Never. He never touched me like this…Sylus, please…" The plea was torn from your throat, part desperation, part disgust. You felt filthy, tainted by your own traitorous reactions to Sylus's sensual assault on your most intimate parts.

But despite the revulsion roiling in your gut, your body still yearned for more.

"Its hard to say no when you beg me like that," he said, seemingly satisfied with your answer, began trailing a hot, wet streak against your folds. A gasp punches through your throat, eyes fluttering as you try not to lose all control. The mere feeling of his tongue was sending your brain into frenzies. But it wasn't enough. Wasn't enough to block the pain.

"Sylus, ple-mmph!”

You grip the bedsheets even tighter when he tenderly cuts off your plea with a moan against your clit, his tongue beginning to spread the entrance of your lips apart feverishly. Your breathing gets rapid when you feel something hot breaking past the entrance, deeper and deeper into your walls. Sylus's tongue delved deeper, stroking along your inner walls with devastating skill.

"You don't have to hold the bedsheets." he says, withdrawing momentarily from your depths. He wordlessly guides your hands to the top of his head, and before you can say anything, he's back licking up and down your folds, eventually making his way back in completely. The immediate shockwaves of pleasure make you grip his hair basically against your will, and you tearfully hold his hair as you neared an orgasm.

The pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo as Sylus's tongue relentlessly stroked your inner walls, each slick thrust driving you higher toward the brink of climax. Broken moans spilled from your lips, intermingling with his hungry growls of appreciation. Tears streamed down your face as your hips rocked shamelessly against his mouth, silently begging for the oblivion that hovered just out of reach.

Sylus's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted upon your aching cunt. He seemed enraptured, almost worshipful in his attentions, lavishing your most intimate places with devoted licks and sucks. He ate you out like a starved man. Like he craved you.

Like he missed you.

Occasionally his nose would rub against your clit again and again, a delicious friction that made you sob with the intensity of it all.

When his lips finally closed around your swollen clit and sucked hard, you nearly vaulted off the bed, a strangled scream tearing from your throat.

"Mhgn! Sylus! Please, I can't…it's too much!"

But he didn't let up, his talented tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with ruthless precision. Your vision whited out as you finally reached heaven, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over you until you thought you might drown in it. Your walls clamped down on his invading tongue, pulsing with the force of your release, unwittingly calling out Sylus's name as you did so.

Finally, blessedly, Sylus withdrew. You melted in the sheets, finally letting go of his hair, boneless and shuddering in the aftermath. Tears streaked your face, but for once, they weren't because Sylus had hurt you. He had done quite the opposite actually.

Taking in the sight of you sprawled before him, flushed and panting, your body trembling. With a wicked smirk, he trailed a hand along your trembling thigh, drawing a shuddering moan from your throat. Evidence of your orgasm coated his mouth, and you watch as he licks the remaining from his lips.

"Tired already?" he teased, quite enjoying the way your body tensed under his touch. "For a hunter I expected you to have more stamina."

The haze of post-orgasmic bliss dissipated as quickly as it had descended, harsh reality crashing back in with brutal clarity. Tears pricked your eyes as the weight of your shame threatened to crush you. You had begged him for it, eagerly spread your legs for your kidnapper as if y'all were lovers. What was wrong with you?

"I..." you trail off, vision blurring with tears once more. What were you going to say? What could you say?

Sylus trailed lazy kisses along your jaw, seeming to sense your internal turmoil within your head. His lips rubbed against your sensitive skin, sending unwanted sparks of pleasure skittering through your nerves.

"If you're still able to think," he murmured against your throat, "then I clearly haven't kept my promise of helping you forget." His nimble fingers worked at his belt buckle.

The leather strap slid free of the loops with a hiss, dropping forgotten to the floor. Soon after, you felt the straps of your dress slip past your shoulders, past your waist, and eventually off your body completely. Sylus's gaze raked over you, lovingly and hungry, devouring the flush on your skin, the swell of your heaving breasts. You felt bare under his scrutiny, stripped of all defenses.

"And here I thought I was doing such a good job of distracting you," he purred, palming himself through his jeans. The rigid line of his erection strained against the faded denim, an obscene bulge that made your mouth go dry. You watched as he began taking his shirt off from over his head, his chiseled stomach and chest coming into view.

"Please..." you whimpered, the word torn from your throat as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. Your body trembled, caught between the whirlwind of conflicting emotions roiling within you. Revulsion. Lust. Desperation. Self-loathing. You don't even know what you're asking for.

Sylus's expression softened as he gazed down at you, his thumb brushing away the moisture collecting on your lashes. It was uncharacteristic of you to beg for anything other than freedom. It was pulling at his heart and making him feel weak. "Shhh, it's alright sweetie," he soothed, his voice a low murmur. "I'm keeping my promise. Don't think, just focus on me."

Slowly, reverently, he lowered his mouth to yours in a kiss that stole your breath and shattered your reservations. His lips moved over yours with aching tenderness, sipping at your parted lips as if savoring the sweetest nectar. The press of his body against yours was solid, reassuring, anchoring you in the whirlwind of sensation.

His tongue slipped past your defenses to stroke the sensitive flesh within, each languid thrust a silent promise of the ecstasy to come. One large hand cradled your face, angling your head to deepen the kiss, while the other smoothed soothing circles on the small of your back.

When he pulls back, eyes staring down at you, it feels like he's staring into the depths of your soul. His eye begins to glow dangerously, and you begin to feel your mind start to spin and the room start to grow hazy. Voices begin pouring into your ears.

Devour him.

He's right there.

Grab him!

But just as quickly as they started, they stopped. You lay there shocked, unable to process what just happened.

"Your mind says a lot more than your mouth does, kitten" he chuckles, and you can only blink confusingly at him as he begins unzipping his pants. He stands up momentarily to remove his pants and you watch as his cock finally spring free. You feel a gush of arousal as you watch it throb, precum slightly leaking at the tip.

"W-what?" you ask, one half of your brain focusing on his raging erection and the other half wondering why the hell your mind felt like it was splitting in half just a second ago.

But you have no time to ponder such questions as Sylus begins to tower above you once more, grabbing your legs and spreading them apart. You squeal at the sudden touch and shiver when his tip rubs against the slit of your opening. His face is twisted with pleasure and his lips are parted, as if he's restraining every part of himself not to push everything into you at once.

"Slow...please" you beg, your hips involuntarily pushing down on the head of his tip when it greets your opening.

"You want me to go slow, yet your hips are lifting off the bed like you can't wait to have me buried inside you," Sylus teased, his voice a low, wicked murmur. He enjoys the way your face twists in annoyance.

"So greedy, aren't you kitten?"

"I'm not trying t-mmph!"

You words lodge into your throat as you feel the head of his tip pierce your hole. You gasped, back arching as you stretched impossibly around him. A painful stretch causes you to groan and try to pull away, but Sylus puts a hand on your stomach, holding you down and ceasing all resistance.

"Be still, hah, it wont hurt for long". Sylus lips are parted as he lets out his own breathless groan, his senses being overwhelmed with you as he sinks deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Sylus groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought for control. He eased forward slowly, inch by excruciating inch, letting you adjust to his substantial size. Your velvety walls resisted initially, clamping down around him like a vice.

Sylus paused, buried to the hilt inside you, his pelvis flush against yours. "Breathe, kitten," he instructed, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. "Try to relax okay?."

You tried to relax, to focus on the pleasant pressure building deep in your core instead of the dull ache in your stretched flesh. Gradually, you yielded, your muscles unclenching as Sylus began to move.

"Good girl," he managed through clenched teeth, withdrawing until just the tip remained before sliding back in with agonizing deliberateness. Over and over, he set a torturously slow rhythm, savoring every drag of your fluttering walls along his rigid cock.

Soon, the sting gave way to blossoming pleasure, radiating outward from where you were joined. You found yourself meeting his measured thrusts, your hips rocking up to take him deeper, chasing that euphoric friction. Sylus's pace quickened marginally, his self-control fraying at the edges. The slap of flesh against flesh echoed obscenely in the room, a filthy symphony that drowned out your labored breaths and muffled whimpers.

Each deliberate thrust carried you further from the pit of anguish threatening to swallow you whole. The exquisite drag of Sylus's thick cock along your sensitive walls obliterated every coherent thought, leaving only the raw, visceral pleasure of the moment. Higher and higher you climbed, chasing the blissful oblivion he promised, until the first warnings of an impending climax rippled through your trembling form.

Sylus shifted his angle slightly, and stars exploded behind your eyelids as he grazed a spot deep inside that made your toes curl. A strangled moan tore from your throat, lost in the slick slide of bodies and the heady musk of arousal perfuming the air.

"That's it, sweetie," Sylus coo'd, his voice low and rough with lust. "Let go. Think about the one making you feel good right now. Think about me. Only me."

His words shivered through you, igniting something primal and needy. Your hips bucked up to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, harder, faster. Your mind snapped and went blank. You were drowning in sensation, drowning in him, and you never wanted to surface. Never wanted to think about reality ever again.

"You're so cute like this," Sylus purred, punctuating each word with a savage grind of his pelvis against yours. "Brain empty and filled with too much cock to think. Should just keep you like this..."

His filthy praise melted your reservations, stoking the desperate frenzy consuming your body and mind. Nothing else mattered beyond the slick slide of flesh and the heady perfume of sex saturating the air. In this moment, Sylus owned you wholly, a willing slave to his lust. All you could do was surrender, drowning in the exquisite agony of your impending release.

The coil of tension in your core tightened with each passing second, your impending climax hovering just out of reach. Sylus sensed your mounting desperation, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

"You're so close," he growled, his rhythm growing erratic as he chased his own completion. "I can feel you tightening up, greedy little thing."

"Go ahead, cum. Let me hear your pretty sounds."

The lewd demand shattered your composure, catapulting you into heaven and you practically screamed his name. Pleasure crashed through you like a tsunami, obliterating every coherent thought. All you knew was the pulsing ache in your core, the rhythmic throb of Sylus's cock buried deep, prolonging your climax until you couldn't take the sensations anymore and almost begged him to stop thrusting.

“Sylus…” you whimper weakly.

Your vision grew blurry as you teetered into overstimulation, your walls clamping down on Sylus's pistoning length like a vise. Thankfully, he was at his own end. You hear a guttural groan of your name in your ear, and then felt the hot splash of his seed painting your insides soon after. His thrusting completely stopped, and the both of you lay there, panting and unmoving.

It was only when you felt his warm seed spilling out onto the bed that you snapped back into reality.

"Did you-"

“Yes, I did it inside,” Sylus murmured, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Where else would it go?”

Before you could even process his words and sit up, he was on you, pinning your arms down to the bed with a swift, ruthless precision, as if anticipating your next move. The weight of him was suffocating, leaving you no room to escape. Panic surged through you, your body instinctively twisting and writhing beneath him, but it was useless. You were trapped.

“After your little escape," he continued, voice laced with playful amusement, "I’ve realized I need to put in more effort. Taming you isn’t as easy as I thought...a baby should be a nice, heavy, leash for you"

“Sylus… please,” you stammer, your heart pounding in your chest. Desperation claws at you as the gravity of his words sinks in. “We don’t need to do this. Not like this. Please, let’s solve this without a child?—I’ll do anything you want. I won’t try to run again, I swear.”

Tears blurred your vision as you begged, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear. But Sylus just smiled, that soft, chilling smile that made your stomach drop. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, his hand disappearing beneath the bed.

“I know you won’t be running away again. In fact…”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, terror coiling tighter with every passing second. What was he doing? What was he reaching for? You searched your mind desperately, trying to think of anything, anything at all that might change his mind, but you knew better. Sylus was relentless. He hadn’t forgotten your attempts to resist, and now he was only more determined.

And then you felt it—the cold, unforgiving touch of metal snapping around your ankle.

Your eyes flew wide open, your pulse spiking as you looked down in horror. An ankle chain. You were shackled.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. "No...is this..?"

“Anything I want, you say?” Sylus's voice oozed with satisfaction, a smile creeping across his lips as he leaned in closer. The warmth of his breath contrasted sharply with the cold metal now binding you in place.

“Then make us a baby, sweetie,” he purred, his fingers tracing lightly down your arm. “That’s what I want most right now.”

The weight of his words settled like ice in your chest. A shiver coursed through your body, your mind racing, searching for some way out, but the chain around your ankle clinked softly with every tiny movement, a reminder of how trapped you really were.

“It’s long enough to reach everything in here, including the toilet and shower,” Sylus said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

You shuddered beneath him, your tears finally spilling over as the full weight of your situation crashed down on you. “Is this… my punishment for running?” you whispered, your voice fragile and trembling, as if the question itself might break you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “No, it’s not a punishment,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. “It’s a necessity, honey.”

His words hung heavy in the air, sealing your fate as surely as the chain around your ankle.

Tears broke free, pouring down your face in uncontrollable waves as the reality of it all crushed you. You sobbed openly, your body shaking under the weight of it, and yet there was nothing you could do. Sylus leaned down, his presence overwhelming, his hand softly brushing the side of your tear-streaked face. His voice was low, almost soothing, as if he believed he was offering comfort instead of twisting the knife deeper.

“The faster you accept this,” he whispered, stroking your hair gently, “the easier it’ll be for you. Accept your place by my side and have my baby.”

"I'll take care of both of you, I promise."

His words only made the knot in your throat tighten further. You hated him. You hated him with every fiber of your being, but worst of all, you hated yourself. Hated the fact that you had once given yourself to him willingly, that you had let the devil himself have your body in a moment of weakness, as if you hadn’t known exactly what he was capable of.

The shame of it burned through you, deeper than any chain ever could. How had you fallen so far? How had you ever let him touch you, let him inside your body, your mind—your soul? The answer twisted cruelly in your gut.

But even despite all the burning hatred you had for him in this moment, another unknown feeling sprouted. One that ached and felt almost unbearable to think about. A longing. Festering within the walls of your strained heart and mind. You refused to acknowledge it though, choosing to drown in the sorrow of your new situation.

Sylus shifted beside you, wrapping his arms around you as if you were lovers instead of captor and captive. His warmth pressed against your skin, a twisted parody of intimacy, and you lay there, eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling. You felt his breathing slow beside you, felt his presence still as he settled in comfortably at your side. But you were miles away, staring into the abyss above, where there was no escape, no solace.

Only the cold, bitter truth. You had let the devil in, and now, there was no way out.

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 days

Text

Sunshine 4 - Sneak Peek

Series Masterlist

“Opposites attract is definitely a thing.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort, but was instantly distracted when he heard familiar footsteps coming closer to the kitchen, making him look over his shoulder. It wasn’t long until Theo appeared at the door in his pajamas, making Rogue let out an “aw!”.

“Hi Theo.”

“Hi Miss Rogue!” Theo gave them a happy smile. “And Mr. Logan and Miss Storm and Mr. Cyclops and Miss Jean and Mr. Ice Man!”

Even Logan had to admit, the kid was adorable. Theo pushed his glasses up, blinking up at them while holding a huge tin container to his chest as the small crowd in the kitchen greeted him back, making his smile bigger.

“Hi bub,” Logan said and Theo waved at him with one hand while still clutching to the tin with the other.

“What are you doing up at this hour Theo?” Storm asked and Theo looked down at the tin container, then up at them again.

“Um—” he said. “Do you know my friend Ralph?”

Bobby tilted his head. “The fish guy?”

“Yeah!” Theo nodded fervently before pushing his glasses up again. “So he told me his mom never baked him cookies, and—I didn’t know moms didn’t bake cookies because mine does whenever I feel bad, so I told my mom about that and um…yesterday she baked cookies for me to bring here,” he said, pressing his index finger on the tin as if to emphasize his point. “Everyone had one but you weren’t around, Professor X said you were busy, and I stayed up late so that you could have some cookies as well.”

She had baked cookies.

For the whole school.

Logan had to remind himself it was the middle of the night so he couldn’t in fact go all the way to her apartment to see her and kiss her and—

Focus.

He had to focus.

But for fuck’s sake, it was almost agonizing at this point. She was actually, genuinely nice, as if it wasn’t enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was, how sweet she smelled, and just how much he wanted to—

Not going there, he forced himself to think. Focus.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you

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scarlethexelove · 3 days

Text

It's Always The Drummer

Pairing: Drummer!Kate Bishop x Fan!Reader

Word Count: 2799

Warnings: Smut, Kate is a charming, Drumsticks being used for penetration, Service Top! Kate, Kate definitely cums just from getting R off, A bit of Beefy Kate.

A/n: As the last few fics I have to thank @wandamaximoffsbadgirl for helping with this. We have been doing this really fun back and forth were we right the fic together. It's super fun and can be surprising when one writes a something you weren't expecting. As for the fic I just had the idea pop into my head randomly while playing some Fortnite. Please enjoy 😁

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You can't believe that your all-time favorite band is coming to town. You stayed up all night just to get tickets. Sadly, you weren't able to get VIP tickets due to how expensive they are, but you knew if you got here early enough, you could maybe get front row. Your friends stand around you as you all talk about the band. Most of them are obsessed with either the lead singer Natasha, the guitarist Wanda, or bassist Yelena. You, on the other hand, have a big crush on the drummer Kate.

Kate was perfect on drums, and gods, the smirk on her face when she was performing, made you feel something. You had picked out an amazing outfit. You knew Kate's favorite color was purple, so you went with purple and black. Looking yourself over with all your friends beside you. You'd get to see her up close, you just knew it!

You hear some laughter that sounds familiar from behind you. You turn around and spot her. There she is, Kate Bishop in the flesh. Laughing with Wanda, Nat, and Yelena. You can't help as you start to smack the arm of your friend next to you without even taking your eyes off the women. You knew they'd be doing all the VIP stuff soon, but your friend murmurs. “oww Y/n/n.” As they walk by everyone is freaking out when Natasha calls out. “Each of us will be picking one person to be upgraded to VIP!” And of course everyone is freaking out and hoping to be picked.

You internally start to panic. There is no way you'll get picked. The women walk down the line, but as you watch Kate, her eyes seem to keep flicking towards you. You're pretty sure you're just seeing things, but it gives you hope. Of course, you would take any of them picking you, but if Kate did, you might just die.

The girls go and pick theirs. Natasha first, then Wanda, and then Yelena. Kate was last. None of your friends had been picked, but then it happened. Kate holds out her hand at you. “Care to join me?” You could die happy right now as you place your hand in yours. Forgetting all about your friends. She pulls you along, and as you round the corner around the building, she wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you into her side. You can't help the audible gasp that escapes you, and you don't miss the smirk on her face. Your heart races with excitement and fear. You can't believe this is happening.

Kate leans in and whispers in your ear. “You're very beautiful, you know.” A blush covers your cheeks. “N-Not as beautiful as you-you are.” You stutter. She lets out a melodic laugh at your stuttering. “No need to be nervous.” Her grip tightens on you. “We're gonna have some fun, okay beautiful?” You nod, which has Kate raising a brow at you. She holds the door open for you to let you into the band's entrance. “I need words princess.” You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Yes, um yeah of course.” You curse yourself for how stupid you sound. “My name’s Kate but I'm assuming you already know that.” Her confidence has your knees weak. “Y/n.” You tell her which causes her to smile. “Y/n I like the sound of that. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

Kate's words have you blushing as she brings you to a room with her name on it. The opening to reveal what was a place for Kate to get ready, but there was something that was off and caught your eye. A bed. “U-um what's that for? Don't you guys just um like get ready in here?” Kate chuckles. “I like to take naps before the shows... along with some other activities.” She throws you a wink.

This is amazing, and you hate to admit the fact you would let Kate do anything, but something nags at the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot?” She looks at you. “Do what?” She asks and you can't tell if she's serious or not. “Bring...um bring girls here?” You can't look at her, but you hear a chuckle. “We each pick someone out, but usually I have no interest in anyone, but since the others do it. I do too, but…” She picks your chin up gently. “You caught my eye tonight. I know you saw me looking pretty girl.”

You're as red as a tomato and she can tell how nervous you are. “Princess we don't have to do anything you don't want to. I will bring girls back because of the others but I don't actually do anything with them. But you seem different... special.” Kate gives you a genuine smile. “I...um…” You feel your head spin and you feel like you're on fire. “I really um.” She leans over and cups your cheeks, whispering in your ear. “Just a yes or no is fine princess. You don't have to explain yourself.” She tells you. “Yes.” You breathe out.

Kate smiles, pulling you closer by your hips. She leans in, pressing her lips to yours. You melt into her as you kiss her back. Her fingers dig into your hips. “So beautiful.” She mumbles against your lips. A whine escapes your lips. This is all you've ever wanted since you found out about this band and saw Kate. You never thought you'd be here, and you find yourself chasing her lips. For a moment you wonder if she's lying and she does this all the time, but you don't care. You'll show her the best time she's ever had.

Kate picks you up easily, and you wrap your legs around her waist. She carries you to the bed, laying you down as she hovers over you. “You're so beautiful under me. I could get used to this.” You nod. “Me too.” You pull her down and kiss her again. The kisses get heated as she rolls her hips against you, and you moan out. “Fuck...Kate…” You desperately try to pull her closer. “Mmm need you.” She starts stripping both of you down and you feel like it couldn't be fast enough. You pull at her shirt. “Please.” You whine wanting her to go faster. “Patience princess.” You whine louder. She grips your hips tighter. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” She asks and you let out another whine. “Words princess.” She grips your face, your eyes dilating.

“I'll be good, please I need this. Need you Kate please.” Your words come out fast. “Good girl.” A blush rises to your cheeks at her words. She leans up and pulls her shirt off. You can't help but drool at the site. She obviously had super toned arms from being a drummer, but what you hadn't expected was how perfect her abs were. Before you even realize it, you've reached out and lightly touched them.

“Like what you see beautiful?” Kate leans down and kisses you, barely giving you time to squeak out a yes. Her tongue pushes past your lips, moving together and letting her take the lead. Her tongue explores your mouth, which only causes you to moan. She gladly swallows your sounds.

When Kate pulls away, you can't help but chase after her lips as a soft whine escapes you. She is already loving the sounds coming out of you and can't wait to see what else she can pull out.

Kate gets you undressed, running her hands over your body, admiring every bit of you. She gets up for a moment to finish undressing herself. You hadn't even noticed until now as she pulls them out. Her famous light up drumsticks were tucked into her back pocket.

You've seen them all over social media over the years, but your focus is always divided between them and the fingers that twirl them around. “Oh wow…” it comes out breathy, and Kate smirks when she notices. “Oh, do you like my drum sticks? I had them custom-made.” She holds them put towards you. “Y-yeah, I always see them in videos.” You mumble slightly embarrassed. She chuckles as an idea pops in her head. “Princess, do you trust me?” You nod faster than you should. You seriously only met the girl, but everything seems so right.

Kate smirks, taking back the sticks and having you lay back. “Just tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?”She just wants to make sure you are comfortable and that she doesn’t hurt you. “Mhmm yes.” She takes one of the sticks and slowly pushes it inside of you. A moan coming out as you tip your head back at the feeling. It's a new sensation compared to what you've taken before. It's not thick but it's so long. You can hear Kate panting slightly above you as she watches her stick disappear inside of you. She didn't expect to find it so hot, but watching how your greedy cunt just sucks it in has her blinded with pleasure.

“Fuck princess you're so hot. Look at you taking me so nicely like that. Do you think you can take both?” Kate asks, looking at you with darkened eyes. “I-I can try...mmm please? W-wanna try Kate.” She pulls the stick all the way out which causes a whine to escape you. Your walls clench around nothing as you feel empty now.

Kate presses the tips of both sticks at your entrance before letting them slowly sink in. “F-fuck!” You gasp at the stretch. “That's a good girl…” Kate bites her lip and the way she's moving, the sounds she's making you'd swear she was getting off as much as you were from this. The sticks hit the deepest part of you, as you arch up into them. “Fuck...f-feels so good Kate...mmm.” She picks up the pace as she plunges the sticks over and over again into your greedy hole. One of your hands reaching out and reaching around her biceps. You can feel it flex with every thrust.

“K-Kate...Katie cumming...I'm gonna..ah.” Kate looks up at you, face all flushed. “Me too princess go on. Cum all over my drum sticks.” Her voice is so deep and husky as you feel the coil tighten inside of you. You feel her tremble, and her muscles flex as she groans out.

Your nails dig into her biceps as your back arches off the bed. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as the tips of the drumsticks hit that spot deep inside you. You fall over the edge, coating her sticks and fingers in your juices. You hear her moan loudly as you're pretty sure she just came from getting you off.

Kate slows down before coming to a stop. Pulling them out and admiring them covered in your slick. As you come back down from the high you catch her staring at them making you blush. She smirks as she notices you staring at her. You're both still slightly panting. “Fuck princess you're so perfect under me.” The blush deepens as you whimper. “W-well, you're perfect above me.” She smirks and leans down to give you another kiss when there's a knock at the door, making you jump. “Busy!” Kate yells to whoever knocked on the door. “Kate, we have to meet VIPs in 5.” You heard Yelena call through the door.”No problem, Lena, we'll be there.” Kate yells back. “W-we.” You stutter out. She smiles down at you and holds out her hand. “I'm not letting you go that easy princess.” You don't know if you could get any redder, but you're pretty sure your face is as red as a tomato now.

Kate pulls you up with her and helps you get dressed before dressing herself. Both of you making sure that your looks don't scream we just fucked in the dressing room. You two manage to join the VIPs, getting treated just like one with all the special little bits that came along with it. You guys got a special spot on the side of the stage and you weren't even upset about your friends not being with you. How could you be when you got to be with Kate Fucking Bishop and get the VIP upgrade for free?

As the opening band plays, Kate comes up behind you and pulls you back to where the other VIPs don't notice her standing there with you. Luckily, it's dark enough. She wraps her arms around your waist behind swaying with you to the music and enjoying the opening band with you.

Kate kisses your neck, which has you gasping. “Enjoying the show, princess?” She whispers in your ear, and you nod in response, which makes her smile. “I'm gonna enjoy it more once you get on stage.” You look back and up at her, kissing her jawline. “You better not take your eyes off me.” Kate says in your ear. “I wouldn't dream of it Katie.” You smile and kiss her as the opening band gets ready to play their last song. She pulls away leaving you chasing her, but she has to go and so you watch her disappear once more.

The opening band finishes up their set and heads off, high fiving all of the VIPs as they pass by. It takes a few minutes as the sets are all changed. The anticipation rising within you. The crowd starts to go crazy as they get the first glance of the band waiting to come out. Natahsa is the first one out with a loud roar from the crowd. Wanda follows, and the Yelena. Last is Kate. She struts onto the stage, catching your eye as she winks at you before she turns around and does a backflip on stage. The crowd went absolutely nuts at this. You can tell she is just showing off to impress you.

You smile, a little chuckle coming out of you as you shake your head at her. Kate sits herself down at her drums. Pulling out the sticks she just used on you making your face flush. You notice how the sticks glisten in the light more than normal. You can't help the gasp that escapes your lips. Kate smirks at you as she notices your reaction. The realization that dawns on you in that moment. She licks over the stick, staring you down. Watching your reaction intently. You feel yourself clench around nothing but you remember the sensation of the drumsticks inside of you. A pool of wetness is between your thighs once more. She gives you a wink as she starts off the set. She is absolutely going to be the death of you, but you couldn't ask for anything more.

The sets goes on, and you can't believe the night you're having. The spot is amazing and the fact you actually got fucked by your celebrity crush has your head spinning and your pinching yourself. The show is everything you could have asked for. The night was everything and more. Even if it turns out to be a one-time thing you'd get to tell your friends you fucked Kate Bishop.

The show came to an end with an amazing encore. As the band exits the stage on the other side, Kate does the opposite. She comes right up to you, grabbing you by the hips and kissing you. She doesn't care who sees, but you can hear the gasp around you and some cheering from afar. “I'm sorry I just couldn't help myself.” Kate pulls back a little and leans her forehead against yours.

Though you were taken by surprise at the drummer's forwardness, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and smiled. “You did amazing Katie.” You tell her before kissing again. You can see the flashes of people's phones going off at the two of you as you bury your face against her. Not used to this at all. She chuckles, wrapping her arms around you fully and lifting you up in her arms. You instinctively wrap your legs around her waist. “Let me take you on a real date princess.” She says as she walks you back towards the dressing room. You nod into her neck, and she kisses the side of your head. “And maybe it will just have to be a breakfast date.” Her voice gets low and sultry, which has you shuddering.

You're excited about where this could lead. In a sea full of beautiful women, Kate chose you, and maybe she will always pick you.

#syd speaks #kate bishop fic #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop smut #kate bishop fanfic #kate x reader #kate x y/n #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader smut #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x reader #drummer!kate #fan!reader

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judebellswife · 21 hours

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First Glimpse - Jude Bellingham

— REQUEST status OPEN

— pairing • jude bellingham x fem!reader

— summary • In Jude Bellingham’s much-anticipated documentary series, fans are given an intimate look into the football star’s life, with a special feature introducing his long-time girlfriend—you. Known for keeping a low profile despite dating one of football’s brightest stars, this marks your first public appearance. During a heartwarming interview, you open up about how you and Jude met, even though you already knew who he was, and how you never expected to become his girlfriend. The episode includes candid moments with Jude’s family, particularly his parents and younger brother, Jobe, with a special Thanksgiving Eve gathering where you all share laughter, love, and togetherness. Through your eyes, fans get to see a more personal side of Jude and his close-knit family.

— warnings • none :)

— note • i’ve got like 7-8 request about to write a one-shot with reader featuring in one of jude’s document series. so here it is, i hope you enjoy, happy reading!!

The camera focuses in on a familiar setting for those who follow Jude Bellingham’s career: the cozy, welcoming living room of the Bellingham family home. The walls are adorned with family photos, mementos from Jude’s rise in football, and hints of his personality—trophies and framed jerseys alongside warm family portraits.

But today, the focus is on you. You sit on the sofa, the soft cushions surrounding you as the camera captures your slight nervousness. A small, warm smile crosses your face, and you shift in your seat, unused to the spotlight.

A voice from behind the camera breaks the silence. The interviewer. “So, this is your first time on camera. How are you feeling?”

You chuckle, glancing off-screen for a moment as if looking for support before turning back. “Yeah, it’s definitely new for me. I’m more of a private person, so this is... different, but I’m excited to be part of this.”

There’s an understanding laugh from the interviewer. “For everyone watching, could you introduce yourself?”

You nod and give a small wave. “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Jude’s girlfriend, and, um... yeah, I’m usually not in front of the camera, so this is a bit out of my comfort zone,” you say, your voice laced with both nerves and humor.

The interviewer continues smoothly, keeping the tone light. “So, let’s jump into the good stuff. How did you and Jude meet?”

You pause for a moment, your eyes softening as you think back to the day. “Well, I actually knew who Jude was,” you begin with a smile. “I mean, he’s Jude Bellingham. Anyone who follows football knows who he is. But I never imagined I’d actually end up dating him. That wasn’t even on my radar.”

The camera cuts to a shot of Jude laughing in an earlier part of the documentary, as if he’s recounting the same story, though from his perspective. His grin is wide, and there’s a glint in his eyes that shows how much he enjoys this memory.

You continue, your voice a little more relaxed now as you find your rhythm. “We met through mutual friends at a small gathering. I’d seen him play on TV and heard about him through the grapevine, but when we met in person, he was just... Jude. Not the football star. Just this really laid-back, funny guy.”

“So, did you know right away that you liked him?” the interviewer asks, intrigued.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not at all. I was definitely attracted to him—he’s handsome, obviously—but I didn’t expect anything more than just a friendly conversation that night. I thought it’d be a ‘Hey, nice to meet you,’ and that’d be it.”

There’s a brief pause, and the interviewer presses gently. “So what changed?”

You smile, eyes twinkling with the memory. “Jude changed. We ended up talking the whole night. It was so easy with him, and I realized he wasn’t just this football prodigy everyone sees on the pitch. He’s so much more. Kind, funny, and really grounded. But it was his persistence that surprised me the most. After that night, he didn’t just let it end there. He reached out, wanted to spend time with me, and honestly? I couldn’t resist his charm.”

The camera switches to a series of candid clips, showing you and Jude out and about—him pulling faces to make you laugh, you playfully pushing him away before being pulled into a hug. It’s the kind of chemistry that makes it clear this relationship runs deep, full of mutual adoration and comfort.

“So, how long have you two been together now?” the interviewer asks off-screen.

You think for a second, tilting your head slightly as you calculate. “A little over two years now. Time flies, honestly. It’s been an incredible ride.”

“And what’s it been like, dating someone as high-profile as Jude?”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “It’s definitely been an adjustment. At first, it was a bit overwhelming, especially with how much attention he gets. But we had a conversation early on about keeping our relationship private, at least until we were ready. Jude’s been really protective of that—he’s always made sure I feel comfortable, and I love that about him. But I also understand that he’s a public figure, and being with him means that sometimes, I’ll be seen too. This,” you gesture around at the cameras, “is one of those times.”

The camera cuts to another moment—this time, Jude and you are walking through a park, your hands loosely clasped together. He swings your arm playfully, then stops to pull you into his side, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh. It’s easy, intimate, and full of warmth.

“Speaking of being seen,” the interviewer continues, “how does it feel to finally share a bit of your relationship with the world?”

You laugh softly. “It’s exciting, I guess. People have always been curious, but I’ve been pretty firm about staying out of the spotlight. I’m not someone who thrives on attention like Jude does. But it’s nice to be able to show this part of his life. People know him as the footballer, but they don’t really see the person behind all of that. I’m happy to share a little bit of what we have, because it’s special.”

The camera pans across the Bellingham household, warm and inviting with the sounds of family chatter filling the air. Thanksgiving Eve at the Bellingham’s is a full house. Jude’s dad, Mark, is in the living room, laughing loudly with Jobe and Jude as they discuss football, while his mom, Denise, is in the kitchen, bustling about as she prepares the family meal.

The lens of the camera focuses on you for a moment. You’re helping Denise chop vegetables, your hands moving a little slower than hers but with focus, and you share a comfortable conversation. A nervous laugh escapes you as you attempt to cut the vegetables to her standard.

“Are you sure I’m doing this right?” you ask, holding up an unevenly chopped carrot with a teasing smile. “It doesn’t look quite like yours.”

Denise glances over and laughs softly, reaching out to gently touch your arm in reassurance. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re doing just fine,” she says, her voice full of warmth. “Trust me, my first Thanksgiving wasn’t perfect either. And honestly, even if it’s a bit wonky, it’s still going to taste amazing.”

Her words, her tone—there’s something deeply maternal in the way Denise speaks to you. It’s as if you’re already a part of the family, not just Jude’s girlfriend, but someone she holds close to her heart. You smile at her gratefully, feeling that familiar warmth whenever you’re around her.

Denise’s attention turns fully to you now, setting down her wooden spoon and wiping her hands on a towel before stepping closer. “You know,” she begins, her voice soft and kind, “I’ve always thought of you like a daughter. You’re such a big part of Jude’s life, but you’ve also become such an important part of ours too.”

You look at her, slightly taken aback by the depth of her words. Your heart swells in your chest, not expecting the surge of emotion. “That means the world to me, Denise,” you say, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’ve always felt so welcomed here. You and Mark, and even Jobe—you’ve all made me feel like part of the family from day one.”

Denise steps forward, enveloping you in a gentle but tight hug, the kind that only a mother could give. “That’s because you are family,” she whispers against your shoulder. “We love you like one of our own.”

You close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to sink into her embrace, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you. In this family, you’ve found something special—something you didn’t expect to have when you first started dating Jude. It’s not just a relationship with him; it’s a bond with the people who raised him, who made him the person you love so deeply.

As you pull away, Denise gives you a warm smile, her eyes soft with affection. “Jude’s a lucky man,” she says, glancing toward the living room where Jude is seated. “But then again, I think we’re all lucky to have you around.”

You chuckle softly, still holding onto the warm feeling in your chest. “I’m the lucky one. Jude’s incredible, and you’ve all been nothing but wonderful.”

Denise’s eyes twinkle as she leans in conspiratorially. “He’s a handful sometimes, though, isn’t he?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “Oh, definitely. But I love him all the more for it.”

Denise shakes her head, her smile growing wider. “Good, because he needs someone like you to keep him in check.”

There’s a shared understanding between the two of you, the kind that goes beyond words. Denise pats your hand and returns to stirring the pot, the air between you filled with warmth and affection. It’s a small moment, but one that fills your heart, making you realize just how deeply connected you’ve become to Jude’s family.

The scene transitions to the dining room, where the entire family is gathered around the table. Mark is telling a story, his booming laugh punctuating the conversation as Jobe makes a playful remark. Jude sits beside you, his arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder as he smiles and laughs along with his family.

“Jobe, pass the bread,” Jude says, reaching across the table with a grin.

Jobe rolls his eyes dramatically but tosses the basket of bread to his brother. “There you go, Mr. Superstar.”

You nudge Jude with your elbow as he catches the bread. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t start charging for autographs at family dinners.”

Jude grins, leaning in closer to you. “Oh, I’d give you an autograph for free,” he teases, his voice low and playful.

You roll your eyes but smile, and as Jude reaches for his plate, Denise catches your eye from across the table. She gives you a wink, as if to say, See what I mean? A handful.

The love and ease that fills the room is palpable. You can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. This family has welcomed you, loved you, and made you one of their own, and tonight is a perfect reflection of that.

The camera lingers on the scene—Jude’s hand resting on your shoulder, Denise watching her sons with pride, and you laughing along with them, fully immersed in the warmth of their family dynamic.

As the evening winds down, and dessert is served, Jude’s dad, Mark, stands up, raising a glass. “I think we all know what I’m about to say,” he begins with a grin. “But this Thanksgiving, I just want to take a moment to say how grateful we all are. Grateful for family, for good health, and, of course, for the wonderful woman who’s come into our lives and made our son the happiest he’s ever been.”

You blink, taken aback by the sudden toast, your eyes glancing around the table. Denise smiles warmly at you, her eyes filled with affection, and Jude leans closer, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“To Y/N,” Mark says, raising his glass higher. “Welcome to the family. Officially.”

There’s a soft murmur of agreement as everyone raises their glasses, and you feel your throat tighten with emotion. It’s not just words—it’s a promise. A declaration that you belong here, with them.

As everyone takes a sip, Jude leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “I told you they love you.”

You turn to him, your heart full. “And I love them.”

The camera captures the final moments of the evening—the plates scattered with crumbs, the soft murmur of conversation as everyone winds down, and the love that fills the room. The bond between you and Jude has always been special, but tonight, it’s clear that your relationship extends beyond just the two of you. You’ve found a home with his family, and they’ve found a place in your heart.

As the screen fades to black, the soft hum of background music plays, leaving the viewers with a sense of warmth and love, the credits rolling as the final glimpse of your story is shared with the world.

#jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #football imagines #football fanfic #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham series

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changetyre · 2 days

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Make a wish

SUMMARY: It's Ivy's 2nd Birthday and her birthday wish is a little bigger than you'd expected. Part of Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: None?

A/N: Requested over on wattpad ;)

"Oh no Max the party hats, I forgot to get party hats." Your heart sunk to your stomach.

"No, I bought some." Max calmed you down.

Today was Ivy's 2nd birthday and she had been so insistent about celebrating her birthday at a race with her Papa and Uncles despite you telling her she could have a big birthday party at home with her friends. Ivy almost cried when you suggested something else wanting nothing more but to be at the "waces!" for her birthday.

Despite this, you still wanted her birthday to have somewhat of a little celebration so you'd spent days making and decorating cupcakes to take to the paddock and buying some decorations for Ivy.

You'd wanted everything to be a surprise so you'd mostly work at night so that the girls didn't see you because you also knew that if Lea saw anything she would definitely say something since she was as good at keeping secrets as her uncle Lando.

But Max could tell how stressed and tired you'd grown with trying to get everything perfect for her and he was glad it was finally the day so you could relax a little. You'd woken up earlier to get the stuff in the car so that Brad could drive it to the track before you arrived with Max, Ivy, and Lea.

"Okay, I'll go now." Brad got in the car to drive off.

"Wait no did I bring down the streamers?" You asked.

"Yes," Max answered waving Brad away.

"Wait what about the-"

"Schatje, everything's there." Max cupped your face to get you to look at him.

"But what if-"

"If it's not she won't even notice darling, it'll be perfect because we'll be there." Max kissed you not letting you argue further. He could feel you relax in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I just want everything to be perfect." You hugged your husband tightly.

"You'll never reach perfection baby, trust me I've tried" Max kissed your head. "But you're close enough and Ivy's gonna love whatever we do for her."

__________

"PAPA WOOK!" Ivy yelled excitedly as she ran out of her room.

Max turned to see his daughter in a big puffy Belle dress which she had begged him to buy for her birthday.

"Oh my god is that Belle?" Max gasped dramatically.

You stood by the door watching the interaction with loving eyes.

"No Papa is me Iby!" Ivy ran up to her dad who lifted her up and twirled her around.

"How's my gorgeous birthday girl?" Max kissed her cheeks.

"Papa I tuwn two." Ivy held up her tiny hand trying to hold up 2 fingers but her third finger kept slipping out of the grasp of her little thumb and pinky finger.

"Yes, you do and you need to stop growing." Max hugged her closer sighing at the idea of his girls growing up.

A few seconds later Lea peaked her head around the corner of her room. "Mamma?" She called your name.

"You ready baby?" You asked your daughter whom you'd also bought a dress for since you wanted to make sure she didn't feel left out.

She nodded shyly, she'd started growing shy around you and her dad lately whenever she showed you something which you found adorable.

She walked out wearing her Belle dress too except hers was the blue town dress and you'd helped her put a blue bow on her hair.

"What a gorgeous princess!" Max also sighed dramatically while holding Ivy who clapped in his arms happily.

You had breakfast quickly, the girls and you having pancakes as a treat for Ivy's birthday while Max had to eat something else to keep his weight down for getting in the car later.

You strapped everyone into the car and off you went to the race track.

________

As soon as you arrived there were cameras everywhere but by now the girls were used to it especially Lea who liked to pose for the cameras despite Max and you telling her to keep her head low.

"Mama Wando?" Lea pointed down to the McLaren hospitality as you approached the Redbull hospitality.

"Maybe we'll see him later Ivy he's not here yet." You lied and heard her sigh sadly as she rested her head on your shoulder.

You'd arrived at the track pretty early since Max didn't have to be on the track until around 4 today but as a surprise for Ivy's birthday, You and Max had asked the boys if they could arrive early to surprise Ivy for her birthday knowing she would just want to spend the day with her favorite people.

You walked into the Redbull hospitality and Brad, Vicky, and other staff members were there ready just like planned.

"Ivy look!" Max called out to his daughter who lifted her head from your shoulder to look towards her dead.

"SURPRISE!" They called out as party poppers went off and confetti flew everywhere Ivy's eyes and mouth were wide open as she looked around the decorated room.

She squealed in your arms squirming for you to put her down and as soon as you did she went running to where there were presents and a huge cake with a small fondant F1 car where Ivy was the driver wearing a tiara.

"PAPA LOOK!" Ivy called out to her dad pointing at the top of the cake.

"Wow, Ivy." Max gasped surprised as if he hadn't specifically asked for her cake.

You looked around to look for Lea just to find her munching away at the snacks that were laid out across the snack table despite eating breakfast not long ago. Just as you turned again you noticed Lando, Dani, Carlos, and Charles at the door, Ivy too distracted looking at her cake with her dad to notice.

"Come in." You waved the drivers over. Max had previously discussed all of this with Christian and he'd gladly accepted having the drivers over at the hospitality for a few hours for the celebration.

"MY BABY!" Lando yelled as soon as he was inside.

Ivy's head snapped immediately in the direction of her favorite person. "WANDOOOO!" She yelped as she ran as fast as her little feet could carry her towards her godfather.

Lea hearing the commotion turned around and also ran towards her godfather, Daniel scooping her up in her arms happily.

It didn't take long for the rest of the drivers to pile in and Ivy excitedly greeted everyone although always kept coming back to Lando's arms.

Although you'd insisted they didn't have to bring anything you weren't surprised to see the gift table had doubled in numbers at all the gifts the drivers had bought only hoping they hadn't spent ridiculous amounts of money on a 2-year-old.

"Happy Birthday dear Ivy! Happy Birthday to you!" Everyone finished singing as Max held Lea in his arms, you holding Lea in yours as you stood behind the birthday cake. Antoine, Louis, and Joris moved across taking pictures and videos of your family per their own request as you'd told them they didn't need to take any pictures and you'd be happy with simply their presence but they insisted.

"Make a wish princess." Max lowered Ivy so she could blow at her candles.

"I wish for a widdle broder!" Ivy yelled out unashamedly blowing out her candles afterwards.

You and Max looked at each other in shock as everyone around you burst out laughing. "Uh, you're meant to say your wish in your head baby," Max told his daughter not really sure how to proceed.

"hmm." She shrugged unbothered as she squirmed for Max to put her down. "Wando Cake!" She called out to her godfather who gladly came over to help Ivy start cutting the cake (horribly).

After everyone got a piece and Lea sat sharing her piece with Lando on his lap you all sat and relaxed for a while, Max by your side as Lea played around with Joris and Charles whom she still had an obsession with.

Max turned to you blinking hard three times, his little I love you gesture. "So what do you think about Ivy's wish huh?" Max asked you.

You laughed at the thought. Max laughing with you. "If it's with you I want it all." You told him lovingly.

"In another year?" Max dragged your chair closer to him so there was barely a gap between the both of you.

"Sounds good to me." You smiled before Max kissed you lovingly.

#f1 x reader #changetyre #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1fic #formula 1 #f1fluff #max verstappen x reader #Dad!Max Verstappen #Verstappen x reader #lando norris

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lets-get-kraken-boys · 2 days

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Gojo and Geto with bad bitch Chubby Reader

Guys, I tried to avoid being a Gojo stan...I tried so hard to hate him...but the pull was too strong. He got my ass. He's too silly. He's too cute the little shit. He's too perfect. Geto's great too before he lost his shit and went psycho the two are just too great to pass up.

2024 WILL BE THE YEAR THAT I GET YOU BITCHES TO PREACH STRONG, CONFIDENT, INDEPENDENT but not too independent bc these men are still yummy af CHUBBY READER! No longer will I be insecure about my weight because these men LOVE to see me coming AND going, I can tell you that.

WARNING: Fatphobia (happens when first meeting Gojo & Geto—they’re teens trying to bully Reader, but she handles herself because they’re idiots), A little angst with the small amount of bullying but I hope I made up for it, Cursing

✧༺♥༻✧

Imagine you, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko being classmates and friends during their schooling at Jujutsu High. All of you are powerful threats not to be taken lightly. The boys were undoubtedly freaks of nature with how strong they were—though, you had doubled over laughing alongside Shoko a couple of times when you heard them deem themselves "the strongest duo", as if they were some cool loner wolf types. Shoko was a master in the medicinal field; she made any injury look like a breeze to clean. She'd stitch them up no problem with her cursed energy and send them merrily on their way with a swift kick to their backside.

You definitely have more proficiency with cursed energy usage for combat more so than healing, but you could manage healing yourself just fine. You’d been born into a clan, not as highly revered as the Zenin or Gojo clans but still notable, so you’ve been taught from an early age how to wield cursed energy. Sacrificing yourself for the greater good of the world has been drilled into your head since birth, and you agreed with it. The world’s innocence needs to be protected from the cursed dangers life creates. Sure, there are bad people in the world, but the good people make life worth living. At least, that’s what you choose to believe.

While you’re just a normal—aside from the slight infinite power and jaw-dropping strength—girl, you are different in one more physical way. You’re chubbier than most, and not by a small bit.

Are you insecure about it?

Hell fucking no!

You’re a bad bitch. Fantastic face, banging body, stunning smile, bright eyes, a kind but strong heart, and even a cute butt to top it off. You knew this world inside out with how cruel it could be to plus sized folk, and while you took the beating for far too long without fighting back, you took a couple of steps back a few years ago to look at the situation. Why let people push you around like you didn’t matter? Why let them speak to you like you’re lesser than them simply because you weigh more? You were done being talked to like you were filth underneath their boots.

Since that new perspective, you’ve chosen the road of self love and hands rated E for everyone. You’re kind and sweet to those who reciprocate the respect. To those who try you, you beat their asses with a smile. “Education on Human Decency” is what you’ve begun to call the smackdowns since many want to try casting judgment in snide remarks or sneering looks. They can try these hands instead :)

That’s where Jujutsu High and the headaches you know as Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru fit into this philosophy of yours.

You were homeschooled by your clan in the first year of your sorcery high school. Though, after much begging for a change of scenery and yearning for social interactions other than your family and neighbors, they allowed you to go to a high school centered on jujutsu sorcery the next school year.

When you started Jujutsu High in your second year, that is where you met Shoko, Gojo, and Geto, your classmates. The first thought to cross your mind was how small this crowd was. Sure, it wasn’t like the classes you’ve had before had many students in them either; the world of curses and cursed energy wasn’t exactly a booming population to start with, especially when every year is the same class roster composed of the few brothers and sisters you had. Considering that, three new faces was much better than before! You introduced yourself with a joyful tone and an eager handshake.

You started with Shoko since she was the only other girl. You’re glad you did. Shoko, who you originally thought would be tricky to get along with since she gave off “rebel” vibes with that unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and you were nothing of the sort, held a grin and took your handshake with grace. She told you she liked your spunk, that it was nice to be around another girl rather than more stinking boys. You agreed with her with a relieved sigh. You two shared a laugh and chatted some more, each of you discussing your thoughts of the school and figuring out your mutual interests.

Soon enough, you were interrupted by someone giving a very noticeable and forced cough behind you. You turned and were met with two boys, one with jet black hair and a sly grin and the other one with silvery moonlight colored strands sharing the same expression hidden behind circular sunglasses. The white haired boy was leaning heavily on the black haired boy with one arm propped on his shoulder as the black-haired boy crossed his arms in front of himself. Seems like the two are close. No matter.

You stuck your hand out, another smile—admittedly, this one was a little more forced than the one you shared with Shoko—and gave your name. Suguru was the first to bite. He grabbed your hand with a smooth, warm grip, and exchanged his name. His shake felt sincere, though the cunning smirk still laid on his lips.

You tried to shake the other boy’s hand after letting Suguru go, but he decided otherwise. He swiftly with no mercy said he wasn’t going to shake hands with the likes of “you”. You raised an eyebrow, already sensing the insult he would try to hurl at you. One thing bullies are is predictable. None of them have any creative bone in their body, they’re like leeches, in a way. Mooching off other clever remarks they’ve heard used before through the Internet or their idiot friends. Though, they alway reproduce it much shitter than the first time they heard it.

He leaned in with a smile and yapped about how if he touches you, some of your fat might rub off on him. Gojo tries to drag Geto into bullying you too by shamelessly asking if Geto is worried that will happen to him now that he’s so brazenly touched you. As much as you wanted Suguru to be his own person, to be better than the loser clinging to him like a koala, he chimed in that while Gojo’s afraid of that, that that could never happen to him. He sneered while looking down at you that he actually has the discipline to keep the weight off. The two of them share an evil snicker together.

Oh, so that’s how they wanna play it.

Okay. You don’t mind showing a bitch their place.

As Shoko pipes up and tells them to shut the hell up, you stop her. You give her a kind smile that says “I love you, but please back the fuck up as I rock these bitches world”. Her eyebrows jump up in surprise, but she gives you a nod. She quiets down.

You choose to laugh with them. They slowly shut their mouths, finding laughing at you not that funny when you don’t crumple under their taunts like they’d expected. You then explain to them that what you find so funny is that punks like them are so easy to read and, subsequently, ruin. You told them they need to find better insults to steal if they wanna cackle like they’re some kind of drunk hyenas and, unless they get more creative, they’re not worth the air they take from others. You turned to walk away, but since you just couldn’t help yourself, you gave the both of them a swift kick to the chest. Unprepared for the action, they both were sent careening back, but remained standing. You also snarkily nagged that being “undisciplined in weight loss” gave you the extra weight to knock their scrawny asses back that far.

Shoko gave you a hearty high five while laughing at them getting what they deserve. Gojo, though baffled at your defiance, is ready to start throwing punches, as he spews half-assed insults left and right. Geto manages to keep his thoughts to himself, but you do note his expression has definitely become sour. This little scrap is swiftly interrupted by your new teacher, Masamichi Yaga, when he enters and orders the class to settle down. He also snuffs Gojo’s babbling tantrum with a merciless smack to his forehead.

You give a small grin stuck your tongue out at the two when Mr. Masamichi turned his back. From then on, it was war.

You, Geto, and Gojo fought constantly in the beginning

When they (mostly Gojo now) tried to stir shit with you, you’d fling their rudeness right back at them

Whether they tried to pick on your weight, or cheery personality, or strength (which they couldn’t make too much fun off since you were only a little less strong than they were, but so was everyone else compared to their insane powers), you were always ready to kick their asses

You didn’t resent them for their teasing, mostly since you had a good head on your shoulders and you know that Gojo’s only deflecting all the shit he hates about himself onto other people, but they sure got on your nerves sometimes

So, you decided soon into your acquaintance with these dopes that instead of simply beating their asses every time they said some wack shit and never correcting the behavior, you’re going put an end to their bullying of based on others appearances

Because, who knows. You have enough self love and confidence to defend yourself against their rude remarks, but not everyone does. What happens if they target other plus sized people who maybe can’t or won’t defend themselves?

So, when they’d try to make fun of you, you’d correct them with sincerity and help them understand why that would hurt to someone

Geto pretty much never made a passing comment like that again towards you. You’re happy to see that change in him

Gojo huffed and puffed after what he called “your lecture”, but you also saw change in him

After that, it was slow progress to all be friends

Shoko and you were doing great! Hanging out outside of school, dragging her along with you to do some window shopping, eating a sit down lunch together, going to the nearest bookstore, grabbing a yummy sweet treat, stargazing—you did it all together!

She always made a fuss that she had “no interest” in what you would force her to do, but you could secretly tell she liked doing girly stuff together. As long as she could have a smoke break in between these hang outs, she was all good

The first time you, Geto, and Gojo made a recovery in your rocky relationship was when they asked if they could come along with the two of you to get a treat together

You were a bit hesitant to share the thing that brings you joy with the two people who tried to make you the butt of the joke, but you threw them bone and agreed

You four walked down the sidewalk, mostly you chit chatting with Shoko, when Gojo butted his way into the conversation at your mention of Kikufuku.

You and him bonded over your mutual love of the delicate, bouncy sweet treat and you watched as his eyes sparkled like a little kid when you said the place you were going to had an excellent Kikufuku

You know, when Gojo isn’t being a menace, he’s actually nice to share a conversation with

Geto teased Gojo for his astounding sweet tooth, and explained to you an embarrassing story of Gojo losing his mind one time when a dog stole one of his dorayaki treats and ran off

You laughed as Gojo tried to hit Geto as payback for sharing the “secret” but Geto fended off his flailing

Maybe I'll come back to this idea one day when I'm not hung up on the bullying. If you guys like this idea, I might continue it with less bullying. I am a baby when it comes to angst lol. I really do love these boys, I just don't think my heart is ready for the subject matter I wrote.

✧༺♥༻✧

#GIVE US STRONG INDEPENDENT CONFIDENT CHUBBY READERS #x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x chubby reader #jjk x plus size reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen x plus size reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x chubby reader #geto suguru #geto x chubby reader #geto x plus size reader #shoko ieiri

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munsonsmixtapes · 8 hours

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Put it on My Tab

bouncer!!logan x bartender!fem!reader

summary: You’re a bartender at the club where Logan is a bouncer and he’s going to deny his feelings for you until he’s convinced himself that he’s lost his chance.

cw: hurt/comfort

“Do you really think you can get away with this?” Logan asked the girl who was standing in front of him. She clearly wasn’t of age and the photo on the fake she had handed him hadn’t even resembled her. And the cherry on top that was that “Minnesota” was missing one of the n’s.

“And do you really expect me to believe that you were born in 1988? You don’t even look like you could have been born in 1998. I can’t let you in, kid.” He could see that the girl was crying and to the untrained eye, she definitely could have been. But Logan had been in the business long enough to know that she was just trying to garner sympathy, which never worked on him. Crying, if anything, just made the man feel uncomfortable.

“You’re such a dick,” she cried as she watched him bend the ID right before her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time he was called that and it certainly wouldn’t have been the last.

The ID was tossed into the trash can right next to him and he waved the next person forward as the girl slowly moved out of the way, making her sobs louder and more pathetic as a way to get him to change his mind, but he wouldn’t. He never did.

“You’re good,” he told the man as he glanced over his ID before handing it back. The job got monotonous, but it was definitely better than being Wolverine, as far as how easy it was. And it definitely wasn’t stressful unless there was a fight he needed to break up, but security usually handled it before he got there.

He actually loved his job, if he was being honest, but that was really only because of you. The second he laid eyes on you, he was convinced that he was in love. Maybe. He didn’t know what love felt like, but all he knew was that he liked you. A lot. Even though he was going to convince himself that he didn’t. He tried to be mean to you to make you leave him alone, but that only made you want to see him more. And let’s be honest, as soon as you flashed him that megawatt smile, he was done for. His legs felt like jelly and he couldn’t help but smile back even though it felt very foreign.

And as soon as you told him he had a pretty one, he was smiling all the time for you, just begging for you to say it again, and you did. If it wasn't that, you were calling him nicknames which would have usually angered him, but since they were coming from your lips, he hardly minded.

The night seemed to drag on as he counted down the minutes until he could have a drink at the bar, just you and him as everyone else had gone home. You had insisted on staying, giving him a drink in exchange for a ride home that he always gladly gave you once the alcohol was out of his system.

He smiled as he saw that his glass of whiskey was sitting on the bar, but you were nowhere to be found. He supposed that maybe you were in the back, neatening up the space. But when he went to check the back room, his heart sank as he saw you giggling with Brett, the bar back.

He had seen the two of you doing that exact thing on multiple occasions and it made him sick, angry even. Even though he didn’t feel like he had a right to be because the two of you were just friends. And perhaps that was what he was convincing himself that he was to you. Even though he wanted to be more. Even though he often fantasized about kissing you right in front of Brett to show him what was what. And on some occasions, he imagined bending you over the bar and having his way with you. Pounding into you, making you tell him who exactly it was who owned your cunt.

“Oh, hey, handsome,” you greeted with that smile that always drove him crazy and he couldn’t help but mimic your actions. Because the truth was that he couldn’t be mad at you if he tried. You somehow had broken down his walls brick by brick and had even managed to thaw his frozen heart.

“Hi,” he replied, trying his best to not let his literal claws come out, trying to keep his cool and do those breathing exercises that you had worked on with him.

“Hey, Leonard, was it?” Brett asked, averting his gaze to Logan and the man was close to rocking his shit, you could see it.

“It’s Logan,” you corrected. “I’m all good here, Brett, if you want to head out.”

“Okay, cool,” he nodded and clapped you on the back before weaving his way through the maze of boxes, moving quickly past Logan and fleeing the room, leaving the two of you alone.

You stared him, covering your lips with the tips of your fingers in an attempt to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape your throat. And Logan was not having it. The night was long and he was just ready to go home, his whiskey that he so desperately wanted, getting watered down by the second.

You stepped forward, pushing the boxes out of the way, moving to stand on front of him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you gave him a warm smile only for him to turn away from you, his signature scowl making its way back upon his face.

Without a word, you grabbed hold of his chin and forced him to look you in the eyes, still trying to hold that smile, desperate to see his own, the one that was specifically for you.

“Smile for me,” you commanded, your voice still soft. He showed you his teeth, but there was no actual smile. “Logan,” you giggled. “Just for me? Please?”

He smiled then, showing you his teeth and you felt your heart swell, knowing that you were the only person who could make him do it. And your heart leapt as you saw it slowly appearing on his face, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m not with Brett, by the way,” you changed the subject rather quickly. “He’s just a friend. More like a brother actually.”

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing and you desperately wanted to smooth them out, to find a way to help his mind stop from reeling.

"I'm not with Brett," you repeated, closing the space between the two of you, reaching up to move a piece of hair that had fallen to his forehead, putting it back in place.

“You say that as if it’s supposed to mean somethin’” he muttered, his signature frown making a reappearance.

“I thought it did," you shrugged. "Because if looks could kill, he’d definitely be dead.”

He just glared at you and you smiled again, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck while his stayed by your side. His hands were itching to hold you and he was trying to fight it off, trying to convince himself that he wasn't so desperately, hopelessly in love with you.

"And it should mean something to you." Your finger poked his chest and he just stared back at you, clearly missing the point of what you were trying to get at.

"Why?" His head tilted to the side like a little puppy and you just sighed, wondered why he wasn't understanding what you were trying to say. Wasn't it obvious? Maybe you were being too vague, but you were sure that you had said everything you could to get your point across except the actual words.

"Because," you rolled your eyes. "Look at the facts, Logan. We both know I get a lot of people asking to take me home every night and I let the grumpy bouncer drive me home. What does that say to you?"

"That you aren't looking for anything." You let out a sigh of frustration and shook your head, making Logan even more nervous. What was it that you needed to tell him and why did you need to say it in the back room of your place of work?

"Oh geez, I guess I'm going to have to spell it out for you, aren't I?" You chuckled nervously and Logan felt his heart pound in his chest as it all finally clicked in his head. Your hands rested on his cheeks and you looked into pretty hazel eyes.

"Logan, I'm in love with you," you said, watching his his widen, his mouth falling open as the six words set in. He just stared at you in response and you were beginning to take that as rejection.

Your arms slipped from his neck and seeing the look on your face was enough to break his heart into a million little pieces. And as he watched you make you way your way out of the back room, he could have sworn that he could see you wiping tears away from your cheeks.

You were leaving. You were leaving and he was just going to let you. You were quickly slipping through his fingers as the seconds passed and he felt sick to his stomach thinking about the possibility of losing you.

So he ran. He ran as fast as he possibly could, following you out to the parking lot where you were heading to your car that you had actually driven there for once. You stopped to pull your keys out of your purse and Logan took the chance to stand in front of you, stopping you from moving.

"Get out of my way," you commanded, but he just stood there, staring you down.

"No," he said firmly. "Not until I'm done speaking. And then you can keep hating me, but I need to get this out, okay?" He took a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm in love with you," he said. "I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've never felt this way about anyone and honestly didn't think that you reciprocated my feelings, so when you told me that you loved me, I don't know...I just panicked." He was talking a mile a minute and you honestly barely understood him, ut you got the jist.

"So please don't leave," he pleaded his hands finding your waist. "Stay, because I don't know what I'd do with myself if you left."

"You love me?"

"More than you'll ever know, doll," he replied and pulled you into a kiss, neither of you bothered by the loud sound of your keys and purse falling to ground as your arms found their way to his neck once again. "Now let's get out of here."

"But what about the whiskey," you asked against his lips and he just chuckled.

"Just put it on my tab," he replied before pulling you in for another kiss.

You stayed like that until the early morning, kissing and giggling to each other, sitting on the hood of your car to watch the sunset together then heading back to your place for some much needed sleep before talking about how you were going to move forward over coffee and breakfast.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett fluff #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x fem!reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #wolverine fluff

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farshootergotme · 2 days

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Imagining an AU where Bruce died instead of Jason...

Yeah, I know Death in the Family movie did it, but I kinda want more of Dick...

Imagining Dick moving back to Gotham, taking over as Batman, inheriting Wayne Industries as well as the guardianship of his little brother whom he barely knows...

Kinda like the Canon version with Damian, but here Dick is much younger, nineteen or twenty, and there are way less Bats to rely on or wrangle. Dunno if even Babs was there.

It's Dick, Alfred and Jason, all of them mourning, trying to get through it ...

Dick trying to deal with having Jason as his Robin, Jason hating himself for what happened and reacting by lashing out at everyone, especially Dick, Alfred overwhelmed by the mess... Dick working himself practically to death trying to handle Gotham's surge of Rogues...

Barbara was introduced as a character way before Jason, but their relationship wasn't as close as it is now, so I don't know how willing would be Dick to rely on her.

That aside, I love the idea. But Dick sure wouldn't. So young yet so old at the same time with all these responsibilities on his back... Since during this time he was part of the Titans, I feel he could lean on them from time to time, but I know Dick tends to try to shoulder everything on his own when things get tough.

Jason would definitely grow to be more angsty and closed off after Bruce's death, specially if he considers it being his fault if Bruce dies for the same reason he did originally.

Dick and Alfred would have to work pretty hard to get Jason to open up again and feel happier despite the situation. Everyone would be so stressed...

But I think with time things would get better. Alfred, with Dick and Jason's company, would feel less lonely, even though his son is gone. Dick would get used to the weight of the cowl, but I don't know if he'd ever grow to be fond of it, since being Batman was the last thing he wanted, specially during his early years as Nightwing. Jason... He'd have the hardest time accepting what happened. There'd be a lot of denial and anger, I think. But with the support of his brother and the reassurance of Alfred, he'd learn to accept it.

And back to the Titans, at first maybe they'd have a hard time getting Dick to let them help, but after a while Dick would welcome them and allow them to support him during all this. They won't leave their leader alone, and they will make sure to show him he isn't alone.

I don't know if Dick would forever be Batman or if at some point he'd be able to move back to being Nightwing, but would love to see how that'd play out.

Also, I wonder how that'd change the family? Since now most of them would probably join in different circumstances, and some might not join at all.

A lot to think and a lot to consider.

Thanks for the ask, anon!

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #robin #alfred pennyworth #teen titans #dc comics #dc #anon ask

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earthtokhal · 24 hours

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I don't want to hear shit about his qualifying when some people have the privilege to put in stinkers regularly and they don't have to stand there and defend their future in the sport, they don't have to stand there and answer questions while their team barely give anything of substance so people can leave him tf alone. He has always been better at race pace, that's nothing new. Going into the weekend, nobody cared that Daniel has been performing better than his team mate, that didn't fit the narrative. When Daniel is doing "bad," It's Daniel, but yesterday, when they he went p1 I'm practic nobody cared, it was ignored but when Yuki did it, they spoke about it in length. When they're doing good "it's Yuki and vcarb" even if it's him at the top.

His love for the sport, his dedication for the sport, his ability to give the team feedback, the fact that his set up is constantly being changed for feedback purposes, the fact that the team sends him out too early or tok late, none of that matters because it doesn't fit the narrative that maybe just maybe, his time isn't up yet.

He was blamed at length in Mclaren, to the point where people have revised his career, nobody cared that the car was shit, one driver who only ever drove that car was able to drive it. Their performance was horrific at the start of 2023 and the people who left there and went to Sauber...well we see where Sauber is every weekend but that same "reason" is being used for 11 and it's accepted.

Daniel works well under pressure but he's human. How much pressure can he take in one weekend ALONE and be expected to match his team mate.

Did Yuki do an amazing job, most definitely. Could Daniel have done better, most definitely.

Could everyone have cut him some slack and allowed him a good weekend considering their "perceived" notion of what his future looks like, most definitely.

#daniel ricciardo

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cornyonmains · 2 days

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I really think we're seeing a very clear path laid out for how Deadpool is going to be integrated into the MCU via Deadpool and Wolverine, and here's why.

If you subscribe to the theory that Peter Parker is the anchor being, then it's important to recognize that Peter is completely adrift, without family, friends, or guidance, trying to survive as a teenage renter in NYC. He's going to be isolated and struggling right as Doom, who's likely to be a Tony Stark variant, enters the scene. The emotional conflict writes itself.

I could see the TVA setting Wade and Logan in Spider-Man's path. Bizarrely enough, Wade would likely have a somewhat positive impact on Peter, because Deadpool, unlike any other adult character in the MCU, respects the absolute fuck out of Spider-Man. This would be something Peter really needs to hear at a time when he thinks his moral code took away everyone he loved.

Logan, he's more of a wildcard for me, but he's likely the key to getting mutants into the sacred timeline. I have this tinfoil hat theory introducing Logan and Spider-Man might be important, because Spider-Man might end up coming to him later on down the road if he starts mutating, which could compel Wade to get him into the timeline with mutants for help from Professor X. Also, I don't think the writers would want to miss a chance to introduce Logan to another character whose mouth runs as much as Wade. Comedy gold.

If Loki wanted to merge the timelines, an anchor being, a mutant, and a man who was enlightened with such knowledges of his universe it drove him to homicidal dimension hopping madness would definitely be one way of doing it. The ingredients are there, but R-Rated properties are uncharted territory in the MCU. If Disney was doing well right now, I wouldn't even consider this a possibility, but they're getting desperate, and that motivates change.

Guess we'll see. All I know is I am not paying top dollar to go see a PG-13 movie at almost 40 years old. The Ren Fair runs 2 months in my state every summer. You want me in a movie theatre instead, then I demand sin.

#Deadpool and Wolverine #Deadpool #Loki #Logan #Marvel MCU #Wade Wilson #Logan Howlett #MCU #Poolverine #Spideypool

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billthedrake · 1 day

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I've been wanting to write a chubby chaser story for a while, and this is what I came up with. It's not everyone's cup of tea, I know, but for those into it, I hope to do a follow up to go deeper.

CHASER BAIT

I reracked the weights and sat up on the bench. I'd have a better workout with a spotter, but I also enjoyed the quiet of the Stanford weight room at moments like this. It was summer session, and the football team was starting their summer pre-season camp. I'd have some consultations with a number of the athletes later on that afternoon, but for now they were all in a morning-long meeting.

All except for one.

"Hey Coach," came the familiar voice, though it took me a half second to place it. But I looked up to see Tyler Mills, all 6 foot 3 of him. Tyler was must have been a senior now. I'd worked a lot with him in his sophomore year, after he got his knee banged up pretty bad and had to rehab after surgery.

"Tyler," I said. "How's it going, man? How's the knee?"

I saw a look of sadness sweep behind the bright affable smile. "OK, I guess," he said, shuffling some on his feet. He was wearing shorts and an oversized Stanford T, and even beneath the draping shirt, I could tell that trim, buff Tyler Mills had put on a few pounds. "A lot better, actually, but I'm not on the roster now. They still let me come get a work out in, you know, hang out with the guys."

My heart ached for the guy. They hadn't taken away his scholarship, but the injury had taken away his football dreams.

I gave a sympathetic nod but mostly flashed a buddy kind of smile. "You know, if you want me to take a look at your knee, I can."

I was surprised by the flash of thrill in his brown eyes. "For real?" Then catching himself, he added, "I don't want you to have to do anything you're not supposed to, Coach."

I wasn't one of the main coaching staff. Instead I'd been brought in to do a combination of strength coaching and physical therapy for all the big Stanford teams, but football especially. Half the jocks called me Mr. Carson, half just Coach C. Tyler was in the Coach camp.

"You can see how busy I am right now," I joked, gesturing around to the near empty weight room. "How's this? You can spot me for the next couple of sets, and then we'll go get set up in the back room."

He bounded over behind the rack like an excited puppy.

He wasn't the only thing excited. I had to will my cock to stay soft or at least normal sized as I lay back and could see up into that oversized shirt. Tyler Mills had a classic ex-jock beer belly. Probably a solid twenty pounds that hung in a perfectly round swell just over the hem of his shorts.

I channeled that flash of lust into a great set, even with the extra weight. And I forced myself to be normal as I made small talk with Tyler as I rested a second.

Most of the time I'm professional as can be. I'm an out and proud gay dude, even if I keep a low profile at work. Even though I'm around very in-shape young athletes, there's generally not my type. It took a number of years to fully admit it, and many more years to fully explore it, but I'm a chubby chaser. A couple of the D-line guys have the girth that might capture my attention, but generally I was safe, no matter how hands-on I might be in my job.

Tyler Mills wasn't a chub, but something about that belly made that sense of safety go out the window.

He spotted me for a max-weight rep, then encouraged me like I was one of his gym buddies. "Beast!" he grunted.

I rubbed out the soreness then stood up from the bench. If I didn't know better, I would have thought Tyler was looking at me in that way, but he made some comment about how in shape I was. "You're definitely giving me goals, Coach," he said.

I was in shape. I'd been a lacrosse player at Maryland and after doing some personal training after college, I'd gone for my PhD in kinesiology. I was now religious about working out and eating right. I was 39 and not going to enter my 40s without doing my damnedest to resist getting older.

I led Tyler back to the room that was set up with a table and some basic rehab equipment - bands, small weights, balancing balls and the like.

I had him get on the table and asked him to update me.

"I've been doing my exercises, Coach," he said. "Maybe not religiously, but you know..."

I nodded and sat down in a chair next to the table. I was thankful for the XXL T-shirt and the way it didn't show off Tyler's belly. Tyler's legs were still big and tautly muscled.

"You able to do leg day now?" I asked, my hands massaging the right quad muscle and working down to knee.

"Yeah," he said. "With some adaptation."

"How's this feel?" I asked. A year and a half ago, the wide receiver would be wincing in pain the moment I touched anywhere near his knee.

"Normal," he said. He was looking down at me seriously, and I could tell the memories of our earlier rehab sessions were coming back to him.

I worked closer to the joint and pressed in with my fingers.

"Oh!" he gasped. "That hurts."

I let go and massaged down his calf. Then back up to the hamstrings. His legs were hairier than last time I'd had a PT session with him. I loved how soft his light brown fur was.

"Your hamstrings are way tight," I observed.

I pulled back and patted his thigh. "All right, let's do some simple body weight squats."

I worked him through a number of diagnostic exercises. He did them well, but quickly we found where his range of motion was compromised and the spots that gave him a sore pain.

He looked at me expectantly. The ex-jock had a soft scruffy beard now, kept trimmed, and he looked about five years older than when I last worked with him. But he still was young and had that innocence to his face.

"I can give you some new exercises to work on," I said. "What do you think of a weekly PT session... to check in?"

That surprised Tyler. "God, Coach, that would be incredible."

"It'd have to be bright and early," I said. The Athletics Department had a full day for me, and I knew I couldn't prioritize a kid not on the roster. But I could take an earlier train. I was probably crazy to volunteer this, but I was thinking with my dick, I knew. Besides, Tyler was a nice guy. One of those jocks who could be a beast on the football field but a sweetie off.

"I got nothing else going on, Coach," he agreed affably.

I gave him a bro-ish fist bump and told him I should get back to my workout. I had only twenty minutes or so before the morning team huddles were over.

The whole ride home I was questioning myself. Certainly my professionalism was going out the window. But at least Tyler Mills wasn't on the roster. And I really was helping the guy out.

I got home and even though I was hungry for dinner, I set down my keys and went to my bedroom, where a comfy bed and some lube was ready for a quick stroke. I kicked off my shoes and pushed down my joggers. My prick was already ready, jerking up into a rigid spike as I pulled down the covers. A couple of squirts in my palm was just the right amount for a good JO. I lay back and visualized Tyler Mills' belly. That twenty pound belly sticking out above me. I imagined him lifting his shirt for me, showing off that magnificent round girth, that ex-jock gut.

I shot hard.

****

I spend my teen years in denial and my college years sure that I was majorly fucked up for my kink. I'd grown up in a small town, with a bunch of Southern bubbas and men who were just big guys. My high school football coach, the vice principal, the neighbor dad next door, my boss at my summer job. Men who were thick all over but especially their bellies. They were the stars of my masturbation fantasies. To this day, I have a fetish for big guts filling out a button-down and hanging over a pair of khakis, especially framed by a Sunday-best blue blazer.

I moved away, away from the Southern bubbas and even from blue blazer country. But I eventually made peace with the fact I was almost exclusively into overweight guys. I discovered chubby porn and the chub/chaser subculture. I had my first real job with the Packers organization, learning and apprenticing there before getting a promotion. There was a lot of Wisconsin beef around that was fun to look at, but I didn't get to play with big guys as much as I wanted. I'd take trips to the city, to Chicago especially, where I lined up new chubs to fuck each visit.

I was in demand, too, as a chaser. Most chasers tend to be either twink-thin, or else have mild bellies themselves. I actually tried to gain weight once, until I realized that I had better luck attracting chubs with a fit, muscular jock body.

I started doing videos and developed a following. It was my man whore period. I wasn't always nice to the chubs I fucked. I regret that, and I took some time to learn how to be better. It was a tricky song and dance. I was attracted to them for who they were, but the power differential was a real turn on for me, too.

I got the job at Stanford and moved to San Francisco. It was incredible. I dated casually and slept around a lot. I got to know some fellow chasers, who became friends and competition all at once. Even in a big city, the chub/chaser scene could feel incestuous.

I had one experience with a superchub, a genuinely obese guy. It freaked me out a little, actually, but it was also thrilling to try it. It felt taboo as fuck.

But lately my lust swung the other direction. I got tired of the "chub" look and began getting more into regular guys. I'll call 'em dadbod-plus. Men with big beer bellies who reminded me of some of the hometown bubbas. I had about three off-and-on fuckbuds, mostly married guys from the Bay Area who'd come in, plus an occasional businessman hookup.

Life was good.

****

Or at least I thought it was good until Tyler Mills.

Something about that college senior got under my skin. He wasn't even that big. On his muscular 6'3" body, he carried that bulk well. And compared to the men I normally slept with, Tyler was actually kind of normal.

It was the third PT session when I asked him what his goals were.

He blushed. "To lose weight," he said. "I guess I got kind of depressed last year and put on some pounds."

I gulped. That horny knot was forming in my chest but I tried not to be weird. "It happens," I said nonchalantly.

"Not to you," Tyler beamed. His eyes sweeping up and down my 6-foot-and-buff body. "You're an inspiration, Coach." Then as he did a one-legged dip, he asked, "You got a girlfriend or anything?... Sorry, that's really fucking nosey."

"It's all right," I assured him. "No boyfriend," I said pointedly. If Mills was going to ask about my personal life, he could deal with the answer. "Maybe I'm not the dating type."

I expected surprise, but the former footballer was doing his best to act cool. "Like I said... sorry for being nosey, Coach."

Still Tyler had a more relaxed posture and his eyes seemed to be seeking out something from me. Approval, an opening, or something.

"I sometimes think it would be easier to be straight," he said.

It was my turn to be surprised. I know I didn't hide it well. Tyler grinned as he noticed.

"How so?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Girls can be into the whole teddy bear thing," he said like he'd been giving a lot of thought to it. Maybe he had. "Gay dudes have pretty high expectations."

My hands were on his waist now as I assisted his body weight squat. I really wanted to actively feel up the love handles but kept my calm.

"Can I give some real talk, Tyler?" I offered softly.

"Sure thing, Coach." I could tell he was nervous about what I was going to say.

"There are a lot of men open to some extra girth..." I said, letting that idea sink in. "And even if not... a guy doesn't have to be a chaser to go for a good looking dude like you."

"Oh," he said. I'd said the wrong thing.

"You know what a chaser is?" I asked.

I could see Tyler blush. "Yeah," he said. He seemed almost sullen now. "You think I'm a fat guy, Coach?"

"Hardly," I said. Trying to keep my lust in check, since I knew I was dealing with a fine young man's real emotions. "God's truth. And there are plenty of guys who'd be into the ex-jock package."

I'd probably said the wrong thing there, too, since I knew Tyler felt bad he was no longer playing. But he perked up. "Yeah? I should get up to the city sometime." He paused before admitting, "Before I got injured... I met some guys online. It was fun."

"You're, what, 21? You should be having some fun, Tyler," I said. I didn't even mean it to be lecherous. But this young man deserved to have sex.

"Thanks, Coach, for the pep talk."

I patted his shoulder. Trying to make it a normal pat. "Any time. You know... I know you don't need me to show you around, but if you're ever up the city and want to hang out...."

I half regretted saying that, but you don't hit the shots you don't take. And my cock was definitely running the show.

"Yeah, Coach," Tyler said.

****

We'd wrapped up the PT session as normal. He had my cell number to text, but I was't going to push anything. I'd laid it out there, and Tyler could decide if he wanted to come into the city. He probably thought I was making a platonic offer, kind of a mentor big gay brother thing. I'd do that, too.

A week later I got a text to see if I was up for company on Saturday afternoon. I cleared my plans and moved my Saturday workout earlier.

Tyler looked like a million bucks when I met him for a late lunch. Gone was the oversized T shirt and he had on one of his older shirts that stretched snugly across the beer belly. Tyler Mills still wasn't in chub territory, but I had underestimated how much the guy had packed on his mid-section. Even if Tyler and I didn't fool around, I'd have a great JO with that visual.

Better was how the guy seemed to be more comfortable in his skin. We grabbed tacos in the Mission and hung out in the park. Even from behind his sun glasses Tyler seemed to be eyeing me up. I guess my own snug T-shirt and shorts were showing off my buff build to good effect.

"Can I ask a personal question, Coach?"

"You can call me Steve," I said. "And sure."

His smile grew serious. "Are you a chubby chaser?"

I thought of not telling him the truth, but I'd spent too long not embracing that part of me. I didn't like lying about my kink now. "Yeah, I am, Tyler."

He expected that answer but maybe not the direct confidence with which I answered him. He was letting it sink in. "I wouldn't have thought... a guy like you."

I shrugged. "I was about your age when I realized I could become the man I wanted to have sex with. Or be the man who'd get the guys I wanted to have sex with."

"Do all those chubby guys..." he lowered his voice. "Go for thinner dudes?"

"Not all," I assured him. "And some like more twinky types. But I do pretty well."

"I bet," Tyler said. Then catching himself, added, "Sorry Coach... Steve."

I laughed. "Am I freaking you out, buddy?"

"It's weird," he said. "Especially if you think of me that way." Leave it to this sweet jock to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

I gave him the most reassuring look I could. "You're not a chub," I said. "And it's not about labels... actually lately I've gotten more into regular guys with a little extra around the middle."

That seemed to put him at ease. He leaned back and nodded down to his stomach.

"Like mine?" he asked.

My dick was chubbing up. No stopping it. "You have no idea."

"I guess I had a little," he admitted. "After our last conversation. It got me going online," he chuckled. "I decided to wear something tighter fitting."

I tried not to sound like a creep. "I've very glad you did, Tyler."

That made him smile. "You know, this is the first time I've felt sexy in two years."

"You are sexy," I assured him. "Sexy as fuck."

"Coming from you, Steve, that's amazing." He spread his legs out some and seemed to be showing his gut off for me.

I wanted to kiss him, bad. But my greater head prevailed. "You know, in my position..." I started.

Tyler seemed almost scared of my rejection. "I wouldn't tell anyone, Coach. Promise."

This was going to happen. "Wanna come back to my place?"

He nodded like an excited kid. God, Mills was adorable as fuck.

We were both smiling goofy grins as we made out way to my condo.

"Nice place, Steve," he said as he looked around. "Hopefully I can move to the city after graduation."

"You should," I said. "You'd have a blast."

That made him smile. He stepped up to me, waiting for me to take the rest of the initiative. I did, pulling Tyler into me and claiming a soft kiss. Even if I wasn't the dating type, I was very much the kissing type.

This ex-baller was too. He responded with soft caresses of his tongue against mine, gently sucking me into his mouth before pushing back.

Meanwhile, my fingers were tracing beneath the hem of his shirt. I'd dreamed of touching Tyler Mills' gut for weeks now, and I was now doing it. His belly was firm and fat at the same time. I was rock hard and moaned into his mouth.

For his part Tyler was feeling me up, my arms, my chest, my back. He was just as turned on as I was.

I pulled him back, silently stepping us back toward the bedroom. We wouldn't make it all the way there that way, but Tyler got the idea. Breaking the kiss, he let me lead the way.

I think I gasped when he pulled that shirt off. The chest and arms and shoulders were football solid - Tyler hadn't neglected his weight training - but the belly was round and heaved as he undid his shorts and peeled them down.

My cock was hard and I enjoyed Tyler's gaze on my naked body as I got into bed first. He was actually showing off his belly to me as he got in on the other side.

Our mouths met and we both responded to each other's nakedness with an amped up fervor. I could now feel Tyler's thick dick below, humping into my hip. We made out hungrily, and felt each other up and lived out several weeks of pent-up lust. It was all coming out forcefully.

Particularly as Tyler rolled his big body on top of mine and began kissing along my neck, his hardon humping into me and his hands holding me down gently. I'd experienced this before with guys I hadn't met online. The wrestling for top bunk. Tyler Mills wanted to fuck me.

I was 90 percent top, but I wanted to give Tyler his wish. He needed the confidence boost, I decided, and his bulk felt pretty damn nice on top of me.

I felt his love handles getting more and more excited to take this ex-wide receiver's dick.

"Can you give me fifteen minutes, bud?" I asked. "I can get cleaned out for you."

I wasn't sure of Tyler Mill's experience, but he wasn't totally green. His eyes lit up. "Oh yeah." He rolled off me, letting me get off the bed and to the master bathroom.

I cleaned out and showered off and came out to see the college guy waiting expectantly, his prick not having gone down a bit. Tyler wasn't hung overly long but it was a decently thick tool that looked amazing riding up the swell of his beer belly. Mills might not have been a chub but I had a flash of excitement imagining him getting bigger.

"God Steve, you're amazing." He gave his prick a couple of tugs as I got into bed again.

"You too stud. Fuck."

I could see that confidence boost working on Tyler. Two years of injury and recovery and depression had taken a toll on the guy, but the fact I wanted him, really wanted him, had him brightening up visibly.

We kissed again, hungrily, and Tyler unleashed the inner beast. His kisses were more fevered against my neck and chest and even lower.

I lifted my legs back. Tyler wasn't skilled in rimming but he loved going hog wild. That worked for me. It had been too long since I'd had my ass eaten, and the fact it was this young big-bellied stud doing it had me wanting to put out.

I finally handed him some lube. His grin was big as he flipped the lid and began prepping me with his fingers. Eyes on my body and my face more than my hole.

"You do this much, Coach?" he asked with heavy lust.

I shook my head. "Usually I'm top," I said. "But I want you in me bud."

That made his prick jerk. He was so horny but also wanting to be respectful. He now worked in two and three fingers in me in alternation. My hole was feeling good.

"We, um, need protection or something?" he asked.

"I have some," I answered. I had one married fuckbud who insisted on condoms. "But I'm on PREP and get tested."

"Fuck," he hissed. He pulled back his fingers and slathered the excess lube onto this cock. Before I could react he was scooting up and stuffing it into my hole.

"Easy!" I urged. The entry was quick.

"Sorry," he said. He was clearly carried away. But now he held steady.

I looked up at him, his scruffy handsome face and his strong build and that round gut. And I opened right up for Mr. Mills.

"Fuck!" I hissed as his slick bone slid into me. "Yes..."

"God Coach," he grunted.

We weren't verbal. I don't know if Tyler was naturally the verbal type. But we didn't need sex talk. We were both in thrall with the other's bodies. Tyler's round 20-pounds of gut flesh swelling out between my spread legs, jiggling slightly as his whole body thrust into me. Maybe I should bottom more, I thought, because my insides felt alive at that moment. Not just my p-spot but all of it.

Tyler was cumming before I knew it, his face hardening into a determined top face as he drove in faster to get his nut. It was intense, but in a good way. I jerked my dick and rode the crest of my own orgasm.

We were hyperventilating as we uncoupled.

"Damn," he hissed. Resting his head on my shoulder and snuggling up to me. "Thanks for that."

I kissed his forehead. "Thank you, stud... I needed that more than I realized."

He smiled, and leaned forward for a kiss. I was happy to give him one.

We lay in bed and talked about men and sex and life. I didn't give him my whole life story, but Tyler got some hints about what being a chaser meant for me. He was still dealing with the closet and learning about sex beyond porn.

****

We had a mini affair, until Tyler got freaked out. I think some of it was wanting to play the field. But he still didn't like thinking of himself as fat and didn't like that's the part of him that I responded to.

I said something that triggered him, but it was probably bound to happen anyway. He stopped answering my texts, and if he came into the city, it wasn't to see me.

My fortieth birthday came and went. I wondered what I was doing with my life. Maybe it was time to become the dating type. But I had two fuckbuds on the regular now. A big extra-beefy coach from South Bay and a pot-bellied married guy from the suburbs. Occasionally I got DMs on my old twitter account, and I hooked up with a couple of chubs who came to town. I heard from a superchub who was a big fan of my old videos, but I wasn't sure I wanted that experience again.

I didn't expect a text out of the blue. But one spring day, Tyler texted me. "How you doing, Coach?"

It was the right text at the right time. I perked up at my desk. "Doing well. How about you Tyler?"

"Can't complain." Then "Sorry I went no contact."

"No expectations," I said. "For real."

"Cool." A minute passed then. "Can I see you sometime?"

"I'm out of town the next couple of weeks," I wrote. Spring Break was coming up, and I had a vacation tripped planned. "But I'm around after."

"Nice. I'll reach out."

****

We picked up right where we left off. Sort of. When Tyler showed up at my place, he was bigger. The twenty pound gut had become a thirty pound gut. He had some amazing genetics that concentrated the extra fat into his belly. He wore a polo shirt that showed off the round swell to good effect.

"Hey," he said with a nervous smile as I led him in. He was clean shaven now, and as adorable as ever. The baseball cap topped off the collegiate look, but I playfully took it off him and tossed it aside before leaning in.

Our kiss was soft. I grunted as I felt his hard-soft stomach press against my flat one.

I wasn't sure what to expect but as we made out and pawed at each other, I knew we were going to have sex. First thing.

"Bedroom?" I asked.

Tyler nodded excitedly. "Yeah. One of these days I'd love to do it elsewhere... try every room in your place."

I pawed at my crotch. "You look so hot, Tyler," I grunted.

He grinned and puffed out his chest some. Gone was the kid shy about his weight. At least for now. "I tried to lose weight Coach, but figured, fuck it."

My fingers were now tugging at that polo shirt. Tyler helped me take it off the rest of the way. His chest was meaty as ever and that just made his big gut hotter. I openly ran my hands over all of it, shoulders to stomach and back. Tyler relaxed and let me.

"I've never been fucked, Steve," he said.

My hands paused. "Yeah?" I asked expectantly.

Tyler was nervous as fuck. I got that. "I've been thinking about it. A lot."

My hands more gently massaged him. Not in a chub chaser kind of way, more in a reassuring caress kind of way. "I've broken guys in before," I said softly. "I know what I'm doing." God at that moment I knew I'd kill to get into Tyler Mills' ex-jock hole.

He gave me a playful grin. "I know... I, um, came across some of your vids, Coach," he said. "Actually a lot of them."

I blushed. I don't even know why. But it was a part of my life that was kind of behind me. "Hope you liked them."

He nodded. "I thought of being one of those guys you did." That impish look grew stronger. "Damn, some of those guys are BIG too," he laughed. "You really are into that."

I nodded. But patted his stomach which was still hard-fat but had more give these days. "You're more my speed for now, Mills," I grinned. I don't know why his last name came out, it just felt right.

Our lips were softer touching again. But Tyler's hands fumbled with my jeans and greedily reached in to grip my boner. He had a good touch. I suspect Tyler had fooled around with other men over the last year-plus. I was glad.

"You're big," he finally said as we broke. Tyler was looking down at the cock in his fist.

"Not too big, Tyler," I said.

He thought about it. "I jerked off so much to your vids. Just watching you..."

I patted his arm. All solid. "The real thing will be hotter," I said.

He crouched down in front of me. Tyler wasn't going to suck me to completion. I wasn't going to let him. But from our previous affair, I knew he could. Slowly he sucked down several inches and worked up a nice, slow bob. I enjoyed the foreplay and finally pulled him up.

Then returned the favor. I love sucking a fat guy, feeling the belly press against my forehead as I work my mouth closer to the base of the dick. Tyler now had enough to let me know I had some real girth on my hands.

I finally spit out his cock. "Turn around," I urged.

Tyler had a football player's ass. Round, hard but not a bubble but. Tyler was just now starting to get the fullness a fat dude has, particularly along the upper part of the glutes where they meet the love handles circling around the lower back.

It drove me wild. I parted those muscle buns and dove in. Licking up and down that lightly furry trench.

"Yes," Tyler hissed. He clearly loved having his ass eaten. He liked it even more when I really went at it, drilling in with my tongue. Tyler was clean as a whistle, and I knew he'd prepped for me.

He now leaned over which made those love handles squish some. I growled into that hole and ate him out more eagerly.

I finally pulled out. I slid my finger along the spit wet trench but not penetrating him. "I'll take it easy, stud. But I gotta get inside you."

He nodded. His nerves coming back. But he accepted my kiss when I stood up and let me guide him back to my room.

"I'm at 240 now," he boasted as he got into my bed.

Between the videos and that admission, I realized Tyler had absorbed at least some of the chub/chaser kink, at least enough to use it to turn me on.

"Incredible," I said. I grabbed some lube and fisted my cock, in full view of Tyler's hungry gaze. "I hope you're feeling good about your body."

"Yes and no," he answered truthfully. "But I'm really glad you like it."

"You have no idea, buddy," I said.

"I have some idea," he replied, glancing at my cock.

We kissed and embraced. I felt him up but no more than he gripped my toned bulked muscle. I applied more lube to my fingers worked them in between his buns. Probing and teasing until it felt right to enter him.

He hissed but I could tell he enjoyed it. Our faces were close and our bodies touched as he angled his beefed-out body so I could get access. I took advantage. One finger, then another. Slowly working him open. Eyes locked on his the whole time.

"Feel good?" I asked.

"Yes, Coach."

A third finger pushed in. It was a lot for Tyler, but after a minute I could tell that was feeling good too.

"Can I ride you?" he asked.

"It's actually tougher for the first time that way," I explained. "Let me take the cherry and then we can do whatever position you want. OK?"

He seemed to trust me. So I guided him on his back, that round stomach perfectly resting. I slid a pillow beneath his hips and rested his legs on my shoulder. He was nervous now, but I fingered him some more. Like five minutes more, before I lined up and pressed in.

He gritted his teeth and winced but the feeling didn't hurt like he expected. I took my time then finally pressed past the tightness of those first three inches.

Tyler's eyes opened. THIS felt good to him. I slowly pumped, my movements gentle even as my eyes fixed his with a controlling gaze. Silently urging the ex-jock to take my dick.

He relaxed into the fuck, a look of gratitude on his face. I was showing Tyler a new way to be a man.

I pumped out some lube on to his palm and when he stroked in rhythm to my stokes, the lightbulb really went off.

"I can feel it," he said. "My prostate."

I fucked harder now, and the guy nodded up with excitement, his hand going faster on his thick dick. His belly jiggled now which was going to get me off, soon.

"You like my body," he said. Or maybe asked.

"I love it. Love fucking that thick ex-jock body, Tyler."

"I thought you might prefer me bigger," he hissed, softly. Embarrassed at the admission.

I didn't care. He was getting me out of control. I pounded him, making all that excess flesh move and jiggle wildly. His face turned red then his whole body and I watched streams of cum jet out in thick ropes onto that beer belly.

I nutted. Matching Tyler's cumload size, deep inside his once-virgin ass.

Later, as we showered and made out, I told him that just was about the hottest sex I'd ever hard. I wasn't exaggerating.

He leaned into my hands as I worked the suds over his girthy flesh, trying not to fixated on his midsection.

"I know you're not the dating type, Coach, but can we go on a date some time?" he asked.

I gave him a kiss. Not quick, not slow. "It's the least you deserve, Mills," I replied. My cock chubbing up a little again.

#drakestories

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hwnglx · 1 day

Text

disclaimer; the way this was worded can make it confusing, but these are behaviors or traits in other people the members could potentially feel turned on, and turned off by. enjoy 💌

bts' turn on's and turn off's

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

jin

turn on's

fair-minded and balanced

pleasant, gentle, peaceful and patient -> doesn't get angry or riled up easily

understanding of people's needs and okay with adjusting themselves accordingly

gives him the space and alone-time he needs

introspective, wise and intelligent (asks and ponders on the deeper questions in life)

reflects back on their actions and behavior -> is self aware enough to admit when they messed up

has valuable advice to give (it's kind of a pattern, he's definitely drawn to attractive brains and mindsets)

is open-minded and ready for new experiences -> not closed off and hesistant or scared of everything

would like to go on fun trips and activities with him

okay with more of a slow-burn but consistent and stable relationship -> doesn't rush to proceed quickly (like someone who's alright with getting to know each other slowly, maybe even start as his best friend first)

turn off's

overly emotional and dramatic (he'd feel overwhelmed and eventually drained)

but also too cold and severely detached (someone who has no sympathy for the people around them)

acts cowardly and avoids facing the consequences of their own actions

uselessly mean and cruel with their words

too proud and self-centered -> puts themselves and their own needs above others

full of selfish greed and doesn't know how to appreciate and be grateful for what they already have

clings to him and gets too possessive or controlling

too focused on superficial values (like money, fame, reputation, material possessions, etc..)

never satisfied with themselves nor the people around them -> keeps nagging, complaining and just spreading unpleasant energy

feels attacked quickly, takes everything personally and gets defensive right away

suga

turn on's

has a strong and transformative effect on the people around them (powerful presence, lingers in your mind)

knows what it's like to struggle and has gained inner strength from the experience (i.e. he thinks it's impressive to hear stories about how someone overcame a seemingly hopeless situation and learned from it in hindsight)

therefore has a good understanding of life and a lot of wisdom (keeps intriguing him with their mindset, words, thoughts, etc.)

deep and complex personalities

i keep hearing “dark”, i can see him liking when people are dressed in black, have darker hair, tattoos, etc.

doesn't insert themselves in unnecessary drama or conflicts and doesn't engage in childish gossip

has a good eye for detail and is quietly observant -> remembers the minor things about others (i.e. he'd love if his partner overheard him talking about a specific gift he wants and secretly bought it for him)

generous and giving to their loved ones (gifts really are the way to his heart)

very clever, quick-witted -> challenges him mentally

turn off's

doesn't have their priorities straight

delusional and overly unrealistic

too childish and emotionally immature

stuck in the past -> holds endless grudges and keeps bringing up old incidents

too naive and optimistic all the time -> doesn't wanna acknowledge reality for what it is, actively avoids negativity and runs away from their problems

takes unnecessary risks, is too wild and untamed (like a loose cannon type of free spirit he can't keep track of)

too simple-minded -> doesn't comprehend or care about the deeper things in life

he's likely to just not vibe with overly protected and overly privileged people who've never had to go through any hardship in their life

cares too much about being liked by everyone and gets obsessed over what people think

doesn't know how to assert themselves and actively avoids confrontation

j-hope

turn on's

very talented or skilled at something (especially in an artistic field)

humble, grounded and always eager to expand their knowledge and improve their craft

self-aware -> can recognize and admit to their mistakes

but doesn't linger and dwell on them too much -> knows how to grow and learn from their failures

chooses their battles wisely -> doesn't engage in unnecessary conflict and arguments (peacemakers who don't like fighting)

soft- and kindhearted (someone with pure intentions)

has a strong sense of responsibility and duty

carries a lot of inner strength and resilience

knows how to take care of themselves and decorate their own garden -> doesn't always need to rely on people to do the hard work for them

doesn't beat around the bush too much and expresses themselves in a clear manner

tbh, i keep getting that he's just very into self-development. he feels drawn to people who are always set on becoming the best version of themselves and would love to be on their side for that journey

turn off's

overly selfish and greedy for material things -> doesn't enjoy sharing or taking other people's needs into consideration (like if someone turned out to be hoarding money secretly he'd get the ick majorly)

gets overly controlling or possessive of him

behaves like a stubborn know-it-all and refuses to listen to his side of the story

too secretive and closed off from him -> keeps confusing him and sending mixed signals

puts on too much of a mysterious and hard-to-get act

too negative, pessimistic and dark

doesn't tell him about their thoughts or feelings leaving him wondering and worrying

deceptive (like someone who tries to cover up their mistakes and isn't upfront and genuine in the things they do, only does it for the show)

refuses to change, even if deep down they know they would need to (i.e. because it negatively impacts their connection)

bottom of deck was the two of cups. i kept getting this very forgiving and accepting energy from him, where it doesn't seem like he has these extremely specific expectations. he's okay with his partner not being perfect, because as long as he genuinely loves them, he's willing to work on their downfalls together. very sweet energy. (probably my favorite out of bts)

namjoon

turn on's

has a lot discipline, drive and willpower

knows how to keep their focus on their goals and doesn't allow anyone to stand in their way -> very determined and ambitious

courageous and willing to take on tasks others avoid (like the person who steps up first to do the hard work no one else wants to do)

capable of enduring and withstanding life's trials in a strong manner

likes to be a source of support and guidance for the people around them

uses their resources or platform for a higher good (i.e. someone who donates money to the less fortunate or helps out the homeless, likes doing volunteer work)

knows how to be grateful, as well as appreciate and count their blessings

capable of creating deep, meaningful and emotionally intimate connections to people

loves deeply and intensely

possessive and protective over what belongs to them (can see this applying to not only material goods, but also the people they're close to -> someone who looks after their territory)

turn off's

overly delusional and unrealistic

has their head in the clouds and rose-colored glasses on all the time

doesn't know what they want in life and struggles to make clear decisions -> keeps leading people on

refuses to admit their faults and doesn't learn from their mistakes -> keeps themselves stuck and self-sabotages

too lazy to work for their own success and sucks up to people in the spotlight in order to benefit from them (don't hate me but i can see him feeling turned off by privileged chaebols or nepo babys who didn't really work for their own success)

has no control over their emotions or rage -> explodes or lashes out on people

lets their frustration out on the people around them

unreliable and doesn't stick to their words -> says one thing but ends up doing another

acts irresponsibly and recklessly

doesn't know how to take life seriously and cracks jokes at inappropriate times

tactless and ill-mannered (like he'd feel the ick if someone laughed inappropriately during the discussion of a serious matter)

he had so much to say for the turn off's. he definitely gives me this vibe of having very high standards. i can sense this balance of tough love and thoughtful empathy in him, which definitely makes him an impressive and commendable leader. it's kinda like he was made for the role, really.

jimin

turn on's

intelligent, articulate and eloquent speakers -> always finds the right thing to say in the right moment

capable of being logical and objective when the situation calls for it

level-headed and swift at making decisions (he's someone who can struggle with this a lot, which is why he can feel drawn to a person who's more decisive and clear in their thought-process than him)

isn't afraid to argue and knows how to confidently hold their ground in a strong but diplomatic manner, without crossing lines

however self-aware enough to know when it's time to step back and admit they're wrong

loyal, committed and dedicated to everything they do

seeks peace and quietness (he enjoys intimate and relaxing alone-time with the person on his side, and wants them to feel like a break from all the stress)

has an inspiring, uplifting and encouraging effect on the people around them

capable of understanding his emotional needs and attuning their behavior, actions and words to them (he can need a little bit of sugarcoating sometimes)

has a profound capacity of connecting to people on a deep and emotional level

turn off's

acts like they're entitled to have a say in his life and allows themselves to command him around

too traditional, conservative and narrow-minded -> judgemental towards people different to them

childish and emotionally immature (example: throws a fit and acts like an offended child once told about their wrongdoing without acknowledging their mistakes. most members seem to not like that in a person)

lack of integrity and weak moral compass

doesn't care about adjusting their actions to the situation and struggles understanding their need to do so

tactless and impolite (especially verbally)

lacks empathy and compassion for their loved ones -> too emotionally detached and cold in relationships

gets a kick out of hurting and offending others

taehyung

turn on's

has an intriguing and mysterious aura to them -> awakens his curiosity and makes him want to get to know them closer

is more closed off and private about their life matters (a person who just gives off this impression that no one actually knows them)

can give off a cold aura but is much more passionate and enthusiastic about their personal endeavors than what meets the eye (also doesn't feel the need to rub their success or achievements into people's faces)

has depth and complexity to their personality -> knows how to talk about deeper and serious subjects in life

but can also have fun, be playful and whimsical at times

he loves duality

someone who's usually mature, grounded and disciplined but also carries this inner child-like excitement about life

trustworthy, dependable and responsible

dedicated and committed to him

capable of maintaining a good work-life balance

turn off's

too lazy and doesn't hold themselves to any sort of standards (like they don't care about improving themselves in any way out of comfort)

too deadbeat, boring, uptight and serious all the time

has an outdated and overly conservative attitude

stuck in their own beliefs and condemning towards views different to their own

not appreciative and very “meh” about the important people in their lives -> doesn't care to put in any effort into their relationships

too self-centered and only focused on their own desires

clouded and blinded by their emotions all the time -> lacks decisiveness

too emotionally needy and whiny

thinks they're superior him to him or entitled to tell him what to do -> acts controlling

jungkook

turn on's

he loooves a chase and having to work for their attention -> inaccessibility can intrigue and attract him (i.e. if a group of people showed interest in him, the one who doesn't would stand out and catch his attention more)

has strong values and convictions -> isn't afraid to uphold their principles and defend themselves or their loved ones when the situation calls for it

intelligent, eloquent and articulate speaker -> good with words (he likes beautiful and melodic voices too, would love to just sit and listen to his s/o talk for hours)

has clear objectives and goals in life -> knows exactly what they want and how to get it (will make it clear to him as well, isn't a simping yes-man who just adapts themselves to him all the time)

knows their worth and doesn't give in to people quickly

successful but humble about their achievements

loyal and committed to the people they love

stands behind their words and keeps their promises

polite and well-mannered

brings a sense of stability and comfort to the people around them (like a person who's this dependable and reliable pillar for their loved ones)

has a good balance of more “masculine” and “feminine” energy -> someone who can be dominant, powerful and assertive but also nurturing, loving and soft

he likes playful push and pull (like giving in for a kiss and stopping just timely enough to leave him wanting more)

turn off's

too competitive, egocentric and greedy -> doesn't know how to give in or grant others their rightful spotlight

ill-mannered, discourteous and tactless -> isn't capable of reading the room and acts impulsively without consideration for the people around them

impolite and offensive with the way they speak

constantly negative and pessimistic -> always finds something to complain about and ruins the mood

lets out their frustrations on the people around them

acts superior to others with nothing to back it up with (basically an inflated ego)

sucks up to him, puts on a fake act just to impress him (like a simp who just plays mr/ms perfect for him, he isn't easily fooled and can see through someone pretending to be something they're not)

too secretive and mysterious -> unsettles him, makes him question their motives (someone who keeps making him feel like they're hiding something and have an ulterior motive or hidden agenda)

doesn't commit to what they say -> leads him on, says they'll do one thing but end up doing another

i kinda struggled explaining this but i got the ace of wands plus the world. basically means a spark of passion, a new beginning, but putting an end to it before it could develop further -> he wants someone who's in it for the longterm and not just a one-time thing.

jk essentially just needs to feel the sincerity behind someone's intentions and actions. he doesn't trust people easily anymore and gets suspicious. he can easily feel turned off by people who are obviously just sucking up to him or making him feel like they want to be with him for the wrong reasons.

obviously, he wouldn't wanna be with a person who only sees him as someone they can benefit from. he's used to people simping for him (it's giving “been there done that, don't want that anymore”), so he can feel drawn to people who don't really care; since that'd mean they're more likely to overlook his status, fame, etc. and look at him as a person, rather than an idol, fantasy or an opportunity for their own good.

#kpop tarot #bts tarot

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clarisse0o · 2 days

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 73

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Thursday, March 24; 8:30 AM – Camp Wiegman

I’ve never seen such organization. Mr. Johnson has planned everything down to the smallest detail. Everything except maybe the bus being late. Still, we know the time to leave is approaching quickly. Our management teacher, along with Lucy and Ingrid, are our chaperones for this trip, which is seeming more and more boring. Through a small note, we found out that the company we’re visiting isn’t even in Manchester, so we’ve got quite a drive ahead. I made sure to pack my headphones for the trip after confirming with Lucy that it was allowed. I have a feeling I won’t enjoy any of this. The company selected is an industrial one. To be honest, none of this interests me at all. Seeing that nothing was happening for a while, I slipped out of the group standing by the grills to go see Lucy.

"Are we leaving soon? This is getting long."

"I know. The driver’s on his way. Your teacher just spoke to him on the phone."

"Okay," I sighed.

"Come on, don’t complain, you’re getting out of a whole day of classes."

I shrugged. Honestly, I think I’d rather stay here, given what’s waiting for us. Lucy laughed at my lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on, it could be cool. It’s interesting to see the world of cars."

"Speak for yourself."

From her perspective, it’s definitely different. She really likes motor vehicles. At least there’s one person who’s going to enjoy this trip.

"Go join the others, we’ll be leaving soon."

I sighed but did as told, heading back toward my friends. At least she was right. After a few more minutes, the bus finally arrived, much to everyone’s relief, especially the teachers, given how my class was starting to get restless. After one last headcount, we were finally able to board the bus. As for me, I hung back with my friends, as well as Lucy and Ingrid. We figured everyone would rush to get the back seats, and that’s exactly what happened. Johnson had to shout to be heard over the commotion. Poor guy, he’s going to lose his voice at this rate. Our turn came, and the only thing that mattered to me was sitting near my girlfriend, which luckily, I did. I sat with Alessia, just behind Ingrid and Lucy, but in front of Lotte and Leah. At least we were sure we wouldn’t be bothered. Our teachers sat in the same row as Lucy. She took the window seat, which was fine by me. At least I knew my management teacher wouldn’t bug her. I’d already noticed he’d been trying to cozy up to her since this morning. I’m not jealous—okay, maybe just a little. He did one last headcount before giving the driver the green light. The noise in the bus was deafening. I was going to get a headache before we even reached the factory. I was already not feeling great anyway.

"Sorry for the delay. Traffic is terrible this morning," the driver explained. "There was an accident on the road I took. It was too late to turn back."

"It’s not your fault," my teacher sighed. "But this means it’ll take us longer to get there. We’ll probably hit rush hour."

Wonderful! That was the last thing I wanted to hear. My exaggerated sigh made Alessia laugh.

"Wow, you’re really not excited, huh?"

"Next time, I’ll fake being sick."

"Not in your wildest dreams," I heard Lucy say from the front.

I made silly faces, making my friend laugh, but it caught my girlfriend’s attention. She raised an eyebrow, but I just gave her an angelic smile in return. Luckily for me, she quickly gave up.

"You didn’t wake up on the right side of the bed, did you?"

I shrugged. Not really, no. I got my period this morning, and it’s been a while since I’ve had such bad cramps. That’s not something I was about to tell her, though. If this was the price for restarting my whole system down there, then so be it, although I could have done without it. I sighed, leaning my head against the window. This trip was going to be long—I could feel it.

"You’re really pale. Are you sure you’re okay?" Alessia asked.

She placed her hand on my forehead to check my temperature. Her comment seemed to alert Lucy, who turned around again.

"I’m fine," I sighed. "Just feeling a bit off."

"What’s wrong?" Lucy asked. "You look like you’re about to be sick."

Now that she mentioned it, my stomach wasn’t the only thing bothering me. I shrugged in response.

"Do you mind switching seats, Alessia?"

"No, not at all," she replied.

Within minutes, Lucy was sitting next to me. She touched my forehead, but I didn’t think she’d find anything. I didn’t feel like I had a fever.

"Did you eat anything this morning?"

"Yeah."

I blushed, looking down at my hands. I didn’t know how to explain what was wrong without saying it out loud.

"Does something hurt?"

There it was—the opening I needed.

"My stomach, but it’s not because of what I ate..."

She raised an eyebrow at my confident tone. Then, I saw the light bulb go off in her head.

"Oh. I see. Did you take anything?"

"No, I didn’t have anything on me..."

"Okay, hang on."

She bent down to rummage through her bag. All I wanted to do was collapse onto her, but we both knew that wasn’t possible. Johnson, who was sitting a row ahead, started asking Lucy about me, but she quickly brushed him off, saying she could handle it. Usually, when my periods started like this during my teenage years, the pain would escalate, which was what worried me. I still had cramps sometimes, but not this intense. Normally, you couldn’t tell by looking at me, and I rarely complained.

"Here, take this."

She handed me a pill along with a bottle of water. I swallowed it without even asking what it was, especially now that even my head was starting to ache. I would have taken anything to make it stop.

"You’re usually not in this much pain, are you?"

"No."

I blushed again. I didn’t want her to think it was her fault. She just nodded.

"Rest up. We’ve got at least an hour before we get there, thanks to the traffic."

I nodded and leaned my head against the window. It wasn’t the best idea, considering the way it was shaking my head, but I didn’t have much choice.

"Don’t be silly. Come here—it’ll be more comfortable."

She surprised me by inviting me to rest my head on her shoulder. I wasn’t going to complain. It was clearly much more pleasant. With that, I closed my eyes, hoping the medicine would kick in.

Thursday, March 24; 9:50 AM – At the company

"And here we are," my teacher announced.

We had just arrived at the company, a full half-hour behind schedule. I was cold. Lucy had woken me up just before we arrived, and my body was struggling to warm up again. All I wanted was to be in my girlfriend’s arms. I hated being so close to her yet feeling so far away.

"I expect you all to behave impeccably during this visit. This is one of the few trips that’s been approved by our school, so don’t make the principal or me regret it."

Oddly, everyone had calmed down. I’m not sure what had happened, but the last thing I remembered was the incessant noise of my classmates, which had kept me from sleeping properly. Lucy was by my side, and I don’t think she was planning on going anywhere. She was so sweet to care this much about me.

"As I mentioned in class, you'll be divided into four groups of six or seven people. We'll assign the groups, and then we can begin."

Everyone is called one by one. Lucy kept me by her side, assuring me that we would spend the day together. To be honest, I tried hard to get her to reveal who was on her list, like Alessia, but surprisingly, she didn’t let anything slip. So, it would be a surprise. The surprise didn’t last long though. Ingrid was the first to form her group, and Alessia and Lotte were in it. I realized Mr. Johnson had purposely separated us. My other classmates weren’t with their usual groups either. Well, at least he ensured we were with someone we knew. Then it was Lucy’s turn. I was right—Leah was in my group, along with a few others I barely knew. I don’t tend to talk to many others, but being with Leah is fine. Though she didn’t seem too pleased, judging by the sigh she let out as she joined us.

"Try to contain your joy, Leah," Lucy teased.

"I’m doing my best," she replied, rolling her eyes, making my girlfriend do the same.

Some people laughed, but it didn’t last long. Lucy commands respect and asked us to form a line, two by two. Mr. Johnson, who had another group beside him, couldn’t help but comment.

"Well. You’re a woman who knows how to command respect."

I’m going to punch him soon. Lucy, noticing my frustration, discreetly grabbed my wrist to stop me from saying anything.

"The important thing is that it’s mutual," she retorted.

Her reply made him look away, and she let go of my wrist. I hated how he acted like he had the right to flirt with her. She really needs to put him in his place. If she could tell him she’s taken and mention she prefers women, that would be perfect. But, unfortunately, according to her, it doesn’t need to go that far. Maybe I should show her what it feels like to be hit on in front of your partner and not be able to do anything about it... My period is really messing with my emotions. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Lucy gave me a soft smile as she stepped ahead of Leah and me.

"Alright, we can head in now," announced my teacher once the groups were formed.

"Let’s go, and quietly," Lucy instructed when it was our turn.

Without resistance, the group obeyed. We entered, and to my surprise, the interior was quite welcoming. I had expected something much more industrial, given the environment. We were greeted by a man in his thirties. He spoke briefly with our teacher before giving an introduction. I realized he was the director. Given his age, it was likely a family business, and that’s exactly how he introduced it. Since some were already taking notes, I followed suit, fighting off the headache that was starting to form. I wasn’t sure I’d make it through the day. Lucy seemed to understand how I felt, but apart from a small, sympathetic smile, she couldn’t do much.

"Alright, now that the introductions are over, we’ll begin the tour."

I started to panic. I hadn’t written much compared to Leah’s notebook. She smiled at me and said she’d share her notes with me at the end of the day if I wanted.

"We’ve divided you into four groups. We’ll be exploring the different departments of the company. There’s the administration, the design office, the factory itself, and the logistics section."

I jotted down what he listed. Those would be the four key areas. Based on the questionnaire we had received, I began to understand much more. He wanted us to grasp the management aspects of a business.

"Each area is vital to the smooth running of a company, so it doesn’t matter in which order we visit them. I’ll personally be following one of the groups today. The others will be guided by my colleagues. I hope you enjoy the tour of my company."

You could really sense how proud he was of his business. I could easily see Lucy reacting the same way someday. She was about to join the other instructors, probably to decide which group would go where, but I stopped her.

"I think I need to use the restroom before we start all this..."

My stomach was still hurting, and the medicine hadn’t worked. She nodded.

"I’ll ask about it."

I watched as she walked off to speak with the director. And there was another man staring at her a bit too much. I’m really going to lose it with all these guys.

"Still not feeling any better?"

"No," I sighed.

I glanced at Leah, who was fidgeting beside me, her hands stuffed into her pockets. I could tell something was bothering her. I was glad to be with her today. Since I started dating Lucy, she’d distanced himself, and I had to admit it hurt a little. She was one of the first I’d managed to befriend since I came here. She’s a really good person, even if she doesn’t believe it himself.

"Everything okay?"

"Not really... I feel bad."

"Why?"

"I wasn’t fair to you and your girlfriend."

"Oh... Leah..."

"I feel guilty for judging you too quickly. You two seem really solid, unlike what I thought."

I smiled softly. For her to admit her mistake, she must have given it a lot of thought. I was surprised, but happy at the same time. Maybe not all was lost. She really cared about our friendship after all.

"I don’t hold it against you, don’t worry."

"I was thinking, maybe we could plan something together, with her, sometime."

"Yeah, we could do something at the end of the year if you want. I don’t think she’ll be up for it before then."

She nodded understandingly. She finally dared to look at me after all that. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you sure you’re okay? You really don’t look good."

I shook my head. I’d been trying to hide it, but I was on the verge of vomiting right there. I barely opened my mouth.

"Hey, Bronze," Leah called out. "She’s about to throw up."

Thank goodness she understood. Immediately alarmed, my girlfriend pulled me into the restroom. Luckily, the door was just behind us all along, and I hadn’t even noticed. She barely had time to open a stall and save my hair before I threw up my breakfast into the toilet. The scene felt like déjà vu. She sighed as she tied my hair back with a hair tie.

"Do you feel any better?"

I didn’t even have time to answer before it happened again. All Lucy could do was rub my back. I’d never been this sick before, and I was starting to wonder if it was really my period causing this.

"Okay... You can’t do the tour like this."

"Is everything alright in here?"

I sat on the bathroom floor as this voice echoed. I must have looked pathetic. Lucy grabbed some paper to wipe my mouth before flushing the toilet as she stood up. I looked over at the man I recognized as the director.

"No," Lucy answered. "She’s been feeling sick since this morning, and it seems to be getting worse."

My stomach was hurting so much I had tears in my eyes. I held it with my arms, but it didn’t help. I didn’t dare look at them either. I preferred to stare in the opposite direction to avoid them seeing me like this.

"It’s been decided that I’ll lead your group through the tour, so I suggest going ahead without you."

"I’m not sure that’s the best solution. Students can be difficult sometimes."

"Oh, I don’t doubt it," he laughed. "I have four kids and I run a business, so I don’t think six students are going to give me much trouble."

Hearing that, I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. I felt foolish for thinking he was eyeing Lucy earlier. Now that I saw him up close, he also seemed slightly older than I had initially thought. He looked to be in his thirties, but probably closer to forty.

"You can’t leave her alone, so take care of her. Maybe she’ll feel better, and you can join us later. We’re visiting two departments this morning, and then it’ll be time for lunch," he explained.

"I need to check with Mr. Johnson first."

"It’s already been arranged. He agreed to this."

"Alright... Well, thank you. Hopefully, we’ll join you later."

"My pleasure. Good luck," he said before leaving.

Once we were alone, Lucy crouched down in front of me again. I felt better, or at least relieved, but my stomach pain wasn’t going away. Lucy gently cupped my face.

"Are you sure it’s your period? This seems a bit extreme."

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure anymore.

- "The pain isn't just in my lower stomach..." I admitted after noticing it.

- "Alright," she murmurs. "I'll call the school. Maybe you’ve eaten something that didn't sit well, and if that's the case, you’re probably not the only one."

- "I had the same thing as usual," I complained.

- "I know, but you never know. I'll be right back."

She kissed the top of my head before leaving to ask for a phone. Apparently, she didn’t have hers. I groaned when she left. Judging by the silence, I assumed the others had already left the lobby. Something like this always has to happen to me, especially during my only class trip. I'd pay good money just to get a hug from Lucy right now. I waited a while, and during that time, my stomach continued to rumble. Maybe she was right. It probably wasn’t just my period causing this. It felt like hours passed before she finally returned.

- "Did you have hot chocolate this morning?" she asked.

What kind of question was that? Of course, I had. I nodded.

- "Well, looks like we have our answer. The milk was expired. They forgot to check the date. Didn’t you notice anything odd about the taste?"

- "N-no."

Since I usually dunk my pastry in it, I hadn't noticed anything strange. I groaned again as the pain persisted. Lucy sighed and sat down next to me. I wasted no time collapsing into her. She chuckled, wrapping her arms around me, and I sighed in contentment. I had been waiting for this moment. She kissed my forehead again.

- "You’re burning up. Looks like you’re in for a rough day, poor thing."

- "It’s not so bad, since you're here with me."

She chuckled softly, tightening her embrace.

- "For once, you’re being optimistic…"

I nudged her playfully in the stomach, making her laugh. I could stay here for hours. Of course, she had to shatter my hopes.

- "Come on, we can't stay here. The ladies at reception offered us a room to rest in."

- "No... I'm fine right here," I mumbled.

- "Come on," she teased. "We’re not staying on the bathroom floor all day."

I groaned as she stood up, leaving me without anything to lean on. I had no choice but to stand, with her help. The only positive thing was that my nausea had passed by now. Lucy supported me as we walked to the reception area where two women stood behind the counter.

- "Is the room still available?" Lucy asked.

- "Yes, of course. I’ll open it for you," said the younger woman.

She stood up immediately, offering me a small smile that I struggled to return. She led us to a door opening into a large conference room.

- "Feel free to ask if you need anything."

- "You’ve already done a lot. Thank you."

She nodded and left us alone. Lucy guided me inside and closed the door behind us. At least we’d have some privacy.

- "Alright, lie down for a bit. It’ll help."

She made a makeshift bed by lining up several chairs in a row.

- "Come on."

I sighed but complied. I took my time, a bit afraid of the setup's sturdiness, but once I lay across the chairs, I realized it wasn't too bad. Lucy even gave me her scarf as a pillow. She couldn’t have picked anything better—I could still smell her scent this way. She then covered me with her jacket. I felt like I was freezing, but Lucy said it was due to the fever.

- "You’re staying, right?" I murmured.

- "Of course."

She pulled up a chair across from me and sat down. I smiled as she ran her hand through my hair to move it out of my face. I clung to her other hand, wanting to make sure she wouldn’t leave, though I knew she wouldn’t.

- "I love you," I murmured before drifting off to sleep.

Thursday, March 24; 12:10 PM

I woke up to some commotion. Several voices stirred me from my deep sleep. I blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was. I hadn’t moved from the chairs. My first sight was Lucy, still sitting across from me, talking to someone I couldn’t make out. Our hands were no longer linked, and I soon understood why, recognizing the masculine voices in the room.

- "Looks like she’s waking up."

Lucy immediately turned her head toward me. She smiled as I stretched slowly, still gripping her scarf beneath me. Something felt off about the room, but I couldn’t place it.

- "How are you feeling?" she asked.

I shrugged, still groggy. I wasn’t sure how I felt yet. I thought my fever had broken since I wasn’t as cold as before.

- "Your classmates are having lunch. Are you hungry?"

A wave of disgust washed over me. Any mention of food made me nauseous right now. Lucy laughed at my expression, which must have been amusing.

- "Alright, I get it," she smiled softly. "But I’m hungry. So either you come with me, or someone else will stay here with you."

I groaned, trying to sit up. She quickly stopped my abrupt movements.

- "Take it easy," she teased. "I’m not going anywhere."

A cold draft hit me as I lost the warmth of her jacket. I slowly sat up and glanced around. Mr. Johnson was there with the company manager. I was glad they didn’t bombard me with questions. However, I noticed my teacher giving me a rather stern look, which I ignored. I ran my hand through my hair to smooth it down, shivering in the process.

- "Can I keep your jacket? It’s still so warm."

My voice cracked from disuse. Lucy nodded and helped me put it on to preserve the warmth. She also draped her large scarf over my shoulders like a shawl.

- "Alright, let’s go."

She guided me with a hand on my back. I ignored the men in the room, sensing that they understood this wasn’t the time to talk to me. Lucy must have filled them in before I woke up. We walked into another, larger conference room. The company had prepared sandwiches and muffins for lunch, which was nice of them. My classmates were gathered around the table, but Lucy led me to the far end, where the teachers were seated. I still felt a bit out of place, but I didn’t want to leave Lucy just yet.

- "Hey there," Ingrid greeted me. "You always get sick at the worst times, don’t you?" she teased gently.

I groaned in response. Lucy laughed as she pulled out a chair for me between the two of them. I sat down, gripping her scarf tightly around me.

- "Stop bothering her. She’s already grumpy enough."

- "Oops, sorry," Ingrid said with a playful grin. "Do you know what caused it?"

- "The milk this morning. Wiegman was furious. Several students got food poisoning."

- "Damn, that sucks for you," she said, patting my shoulder. "Though now we know you’re the only one still drinking hot chocolate in the morning. Maybe it’s time you switched to coffee," she joked.

I shrugged off her hand and rested my head on my arms on the table with a soft groan. Lucy chuckled, running her fingers through my hair.

- "She’s just kidding. Calm down."

I didn’t respond. They continued chatting, but I lost track of the conversation. I felt like I could fall asleep again in any position. However, Lucy didn’t give me the chance. She gently rubbed my thigh, discreetly keeping me awake.

- "Looks like someone won’t be feeling better this afternoon," Ingrid remarked.

- "No, it doesn’t seem like it."

- "Do you want to switch?" Ingrid offered. "I can stay with her if you want to do the factory tour."

I glanced over at Lucy. I didn’t want to keep her from the tour, but I’d rather have her stay with me. As if to reassure me, Lucy’s touch became more soothing.

- "No, it’s fine. I’ll stay with her."

- "Alright, as you wish," Ingrid didn’t insist.

I felt relieved. I love Ingrid, but she couldn’t replace Lucy’s presence. The break was brief. My class soon resumed the tour in their groups. I didn’t even get a chance to chat with my friends. I hope they don’t hold it against me for ignoring them during that short time. I’ll catch up with them once this is all over.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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