#for any behind the scenes enjoyers....

[pebbledrat]

Hello Pebble,

I originally followed u here, because u are a fellow saal enthusiast (enjoyer doesn’t quite cut it, I fear). Then I left tumblr for a while (never was really active here myself) and now I just opened the app after maybe half a year and see u still posting about saal.

That gave me joy, so yeah

Idk *waves*

This makes me so happy!!? Thank you for saying hi!

Yeah, I'd agree that "enjoyer" doesn't quite describe the mania that saal posting tends to inspire 😅 there's been a little less saal posting as of late, but it's the intensity, not the frequency that makes saal content what it is (looks pointedly at the knack update schedule). I'm just glad there are still saal enthusiasts floating around!! ^_^

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

507 is in the running for my least favorite episode, which I think is actually a compliment because I don't hate it, it just feels less funny to me because the singing makes it take longer and lowers the JPM (jokes per minute). also, I do enjoy musicals, but I have to fight a very strong natural cringe response when people start singing in non-musical stuff, even if it's not bad

[hearts1ckness]

i’m being so srs the pacing in one piece is the thing that’s killing it for me

[kaijutegu]

Aug ABSOLUTELY deserves the praise, @ryukikit. St. Augustine Alligator Farm is one of my favorite animal facilities, hands down. It's a pretty zoo, doable in an afternoon if you kinda like crocodilians, or an all day affair if you REALLY like crocodilians. Here are my favorite things about it and why I think it's worth supporting.

1. They keep animals in interesting social groups.

Crocodilians are heavily involved parents, but most places that breed them don't have the enclosure space to let the babies stay with the parents. St. Augustine does. One of my favorite groups was their crèche of slender-snouted crocodiles. They had the parents and then a yearling cohort and a new hatchling cohort. This aligns with how these guys live in the wild- the babies stick around longer! They have the space for it, and they are very in tune with the social needs of their animals.

Very, very few zoos can keep their baby crocs with the adults and still perform maintenance and animal health checks safely. This doesn't mean these facilities are bad- it just means that they have different management practices. And frankly, a lot of these species aren't frequently bred elsewhere. Your average zoo doesn't need a setup where you can have a multiyear crèche for slender-snouted crocodiles. Some species have better success when the young are pulled early, and some zoos are better set up to raise out any offspring separately or behind the scenes. Every facility's practices are different, and this just happens to work well at St. Augustine and be really enjoyable to see as a zoo patron.

Crocodilians are exceptional parents and very protective. It's a sign of incredible animal management practices and animals that feel very comfortable with staff that St. Augustine can do this with nearly every species they breed.

2. They understand the social needs of their animals.

Some crocodilians are social. Some are solitary. Some can live happily with a member of the opposite sex but get territorial around members of the same sex. St. Augustine pays incredible attention to their social groupings to ensure that they aren't just meeting the animals' physical health needs but their social needs as well. They do continuous scientific research about social structures in crocodilians, taking blood samples to test stress hormones and observing stress behaviors to see how group dynamics change.

For example, St. Augustine is home to one of the world's largest known living saltwater crocodiles, Maximo. And his comparatively tiny mate, Sydney. During the educational presentations with these two, they point out that even their monster of a croc needs his social group- he won't eat if she's not around and he is calmer during medical checks if he can see her. These animal share a deep and special pair bond, and they make sure to talk about how the social aspect of these animals' lives is integral to their care. It's a unique aspect of the way they talk about these animals, because he IS a spectacle and he IS a sensation, but they don't talk about him like he's a mindless killing machine- they talk about him like he's a big, complex predator with social needs like any other animal. Aug is the only facility I've been to where the emotional and social needs of crocodilians is part of the education they provide guests- and speaking of education...

3. Their demos and presentations are extremely good.

The presentations at St. Augustine are some of the best I've ever seen, and I've seen literally hundreds of animal talks on everything from aardvarks to zebras. But as you... can probably tell from my blog content, I've spent a lot of time learning about and working with reptiles. I really enjoyed all of their presentations because they are very scientific about things and avoid sensationalism. They really want you to be fascinated by these creatures and love them- but more than anything else, they want you to respect them.

Also, they do a really good job handling their ambassadors. I really enjoyed something as simple as watching an educator tell us about snakes. Throughout the whole presentation she made sure that most of the snake's body was looped in her hand. The snake was always supported and was very calm. She gave the snake plenty of head room so that it didn't feel constricted- it was just good handling all around.

But also, the presentations made it clear how much the park cares about the animals' well-being. When they do the feeding and training presentations, they make it very clear that the animals' participation is entirely voluntary. They do things differently for their 9-foot saltie and their 16-foot saltie, because the 16-footer is so large and heavy he actually struggles walking on land sometimes. They adapt their programs and his care to ensure that he's completely comfortable- and he didn't actually participate in the whole feeding when I was watching! At no point did they try to push him into anything uncomfortable; they offered, he didn't engage, and they moved on. It was a clear expression of his boundaries, and I really appreciated how much his caretakers respected that.

4. Ethical Interactions

I've been to... a lot of tourist locations in Florida that have animals you can hold. Almost always against my will! Many of them are pretty terrible, and you don't actually learn much, if anything. But I really found that to not be the case at St. Augustine. Every single animal presentation and interaction opportunity was accompanied by education about the animal's biology, habits, and- crucially- their conservation status.

When I held a baby alligator at St. Augustine, the proctors- there were two, one to ensure I was holding the gator correctly and the other to educate- were very informative about the role alligators play in their ecosystem and their conservation history. The animals were all properly banded, and one of the two proctors was there to ensure that none of the baby alligators were uncomfortable. As soon as they started getting squirmy or tense, they were removed, unbanded, and taken to an off-exhibit area to relax. And when the babies age out of petting size, they just go in the lagoon to live with others of their species. I saw one upset alligator the entire time I was there, and he was clearly upset that his escape attempt was foiled by a keeper during my nursery tour.

Even though he's restrained in this shot, you can see that his full body and tail are supported, and the grip, while firm, is gentle. He's distressed, but after I took this picture, she put him in his enclosure and he calmed down immediately.

Sometimes when you have petting attractions with baby animals, those animals... don't have a happy ending. (See: cub petting.) But St. Augustine's program is fine- the gators are all aged out of wanting to have mom around, there's no declawing/defanging, and they're handled with care. And it's worth it, because people love what they understand. St. Augustine was integral in raising public awareness about alligators back in the 60s when they were endangered, and now they're thriving- largely in part to programs like St. Augustine getting people to care.

And speaking of getting people to care, let's talk about their research.

5. Shared Research Results

St. Augustine is also home to more species of crocodilian than anywhere else in North America- all of them, usually. (They didn't have a Tomistoma when I visited- that may have changed.)

Because of this species diversity, it's an incredible research resource. Having every species means that you can do a lot of work comparing their behaviors, their growth patterns, and more. They've been a major research site for crocodilian biology since the 1970s. Today, they're one of the key sites for studying crocodilian play and social behaviors. They actually maintain a blog where they post copies of papers that were written using their animals, meaning that you can actually see the results of the research your admission helps fund. You can see that right here: https://www.alligatorfarm.com/conservation-research/research-blog/

All of this adds up to a zoo that provides a unique experience, tons of actual education, and transparency about what its research and conservation steps actually are. St. Augustine's come a long way since its opening in 1893, and they really do want you to leave with a new respect for the animals they care for. Ultimately, if you're a fan of reptiles, you can feel good about visiting the St. Augustine Alligator Farm- their care and keeping are top of the line, they do a ton of innovative conservation research and support for conservation organizations, and you can see this animal there:

(Gharial from the front. Nothing is wrong with her that's just what they look like from the front.)

[sleep-0-deprived]

What would it be like if nerdy reader liked erotic books and liked to replicate scenes with yandere Bully?

Yandere bully x nerdy male reader reading erotic books~ ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

Just imagining your sitting on a chair in the empty school library reading your books during study hall with your face indulged into the book occasionally peeking back over your shoulders making sure no one is behind you when you’re reading, “what’cha readin?” The voice makes your back go all stiff turning around and lo and behold your favorite obsessed bully right behind you with his grin obviously knowing what you were reading.

Just imagining you getting pulled out of the library dropping whatever piece of erotica was in your hands while he whispers something like “if ya don’t want me to tell the school what you like to read then you’ll suck me off just like that girl was doin in that pervy little book of yours?” He’d mumble pushing you on your knees making you suck at his cock through the fabric of his jeans just watching you all hard on the bathroom floor rutting your bulge into his shoes.

Just imagining you working up the courage after school to beg the Yandere to let you fuck him, you keep blurtin out how you’d “make him feel good” basically pouting like a puppy when the two of you are alone until he just gives a nod not thinking you’d fuck him any good, this man laying getting his back blown out was such a humbling experience to have such a nerdy guy on top of him holding his legs to his chest while you ramble on bout “gonna stuff you up s’much”

Just imagining you reading your erotic book getting in the middle of a smut scene sitting in his bedroom all hard practically jumping his pillows squirming when you read the book, until he walks back in that is “damn, didn’t know you were such a slut…” he’d lean against the doorframe mocking you until it happens, him ending up on top of you with you bent over in his bed while he makes you read page after page of smut, if you stop reading he stops thrusting leaving you on edge with a gruelingly slow pace.

Just imagining you laying on your back in a janitors closet after school hours while he eats your ass out messily drooling sucking on your s/c bud gripping the gloves of your asscheeks occasionally muttering out, “was that how they did it in your slutty little books” while his tongue delved deeper and deeper into your hole licking at your inner walls until they puff up with sensitivity just making you bite your bottom lip to keep quiet not wanting to be caught.

Just imagining you making it to a part of your book learning about a new act during sex, and ofcourse who’s better to try it on than your obsessed/very degrading man. You get a “huh??” Face out of him when you ask about fucking the gap between his muscular thighs but you don’t get denied?….here you were behind him groaning and heaving with your cock leaking precum all down his thighs, one hand on his hip the other on his cock while you lay your chin on the back of his shoulder “just a little longer please~” you’d beg him trying to cum while he just degrades the hell out of you not admitting his enjoyment.

[pedroscowgirl]

The Lie Detector Test

Hugh jackman x reader!actress

Warnings!!!: minors dni!!

mentions of: daddy issues , age gap (reader is in their 20s), smut (duh), oral!receiving, p in v, creampie (wrap it up), semi-public sex?, pet names (baby,princess), fluff at the end and lots of romantic kisses

lmk if i missed some!!

Words: 4.3K (i went a little crazy cuz I'm so down bad for this man omg)

A/N: This is the first time in years that I've written a fanfiction so pls be kind 🙈

You had just finished filming the latest blockbuster, and the studio had arranged a promotional event to build hype for the movie. The concept was unique and promised to be a hit: a lie detector test featuring you and Hugh Jackman, your co-star. The aim was to show a fun and candid side of both of you, offering fans an intimate glimpse into your personalities.

You remembered your first day on set with Hugh vividly. It was a sunny morning, and you were a bundle of nerves, excited and anxious about working with such a celebrated actor. Hugh had approached you with his trademark warmth, extending a hand and offering a reassuring smile.

“Hi, I’m Hugh. It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your work,” he said, his voice carrying a genuine note of friendliness.

You shook his hand, grateful for his easygoing nature. “I’m thrilled to be working with you, Hugh. I’ve been a fan for a long time.”

From that moment on, your chemistry on set was undeniable. Hugh’s professionalism and charm made every scene enjoyable, and your natural rapport translated effortlessly on screen. Between takes, you found yourselves sharing stories and jokes, the lines between your characters and real life blurring as you formed a close friendship. But behind your confident exterior, you felt a tug of nerves whenever he was near. Hugh Jackman wasn't just any actor; he was the embodiment of the older, charismatic figures you'd found attractive for as long as you could remember.

You had always known you had some form of daddy issues. Growing up with an emotionally absent father, you had a tendency to be drawn to older, authoritative figures. Hugh fit that mold perfectly, and being around him made you acutely aware of your attraction to him. His deep voice, his kind eyes, the way he carried himself with such ease...it all made your heart race.

Fast forward to the day of the lie detector test, the studio was buzzing with excitement. The set was designed to look sleek and modern, with a large, imposing lie detector machine at the center. Cameras were positioned to capture every angle, ensuring that no reaction or subtle expression would be missed by the audience.

You took your seat across from Hugh, who was already connected to the machine by Lou, the lie detector specialist. The studio lights reflected off his charismatic smile as he settled in, ready for the challenge.

“Ready for this, Hugh?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement and the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Just go easy on me, alright?”

You picked up the first question card, the icebreaker questions designed to set a light-hearted tone. You both took turns answering questions about your favorite movies, childhood memories, and behind-the-scenes antics from the movie set. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with laughter and playful teasing, showcasing the easy relationship that had developed between you two.

Then, feeling a mischievous urge, you decided to go off-script.

“Okay, Hugh,” you said, leaning forward with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. “How do you feel about people on the internet calling you ‘daddy’ or 'father'?”

Hugh raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the unexpected question. He took a moment to think before answering, “Well, I do have kids., so technically , I am a father.”

You tilted your head and smirked, not letting him off the hook that easily. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Hugh chuckled, a deep, genuine laugh that filled the room. “Well, I don’t mind i guess” he admitted, glancing at Lou for confirmation.

Lou looked at the lie detector’s readings and nodded. “Truthful,” he confirmed.

“Good to know,” you said with a playful wink. “That was actually not a question on the cards. I just wanted to give the people with daddy issues what they want. You're so welcome.”

Hugh laughed again, biting his lip as he looked at you with a newfound appreciation. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You felt a thrill at the way he was looking at you, the playful banter taking a more intimate turn. “Just keeping things interesting,” you replied, your voice softening. Your heart pounded harder, realizing just how much he affected you. You could feel your palms sweating and hoped he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in your hands as you reached for the next question card.

The rest of the session continued in a similar vein, with flirtatious comments and lingering glances exchanged between questions. Each time Hugh's gaze lingered on you a bit longer, your heart raced a little faster. You tried to focus on the questions, but your mind kept drifting to the way he looked at you, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket.

----------------------------------------------------

As the interview came to an end, you both stood up, removing your microphones. The studio crew began to pack up, the hustle and bustle of the set slowly fading into the background. Hugh caught your eye and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Hey, why don’t we head to the dressing room? We can talk more privately there,” he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of something more.

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Sure, sounds good.”

You both made your way through the winding corridors of the studio, your footsteps echoing in the quiet halls. As you approached the dressing rooms, the anticipation grew, every glance exchanged between you filled with unspoken tension.

Hugh opened the door to his dressing room, allowing you to step inside first. The room was cozy, with comfortable chairs and a small table with snacks and drinks. You took a seat, trying to calm your racing heart as Hugh closed the door behind him, shutting out the world outside.

He turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You were great today,” he said, his voice low and sincere. He walked over to the small table and picked up a bottle of water, offering it to you. “Here, have some water. You’ve earned it.”

You accepted the bottle gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. The cool water was refreshing, helping to steady your nerves. Hugh sat down across from you, his gaze never wavering.

“You know,” he said, his tone turning playful, “I think you might be even more captivating off-screen than on. It’s quite a talent.”

You choked on your water, caught off guard by his flirtatious comment. Coughing slightly, you set the bottle down and tried to regain your composure. “Thanks, Hugh,” you managed to say, your cheeks flushing. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Hugh chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I was hoping I wasn’t being too forward.” He paused, letting his eyes sweep over your outfit. “That dress, by the way, is incredibly sexy. It’s been hard to concentrate all day.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, the compliment sending a rush of heat through you. “I—thank you,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air thick with unspoken desire.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “You really do look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and husky with that sexy australian accent. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all day.”

You felt a thrill at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, the sincerity in his voice, made it hard to breathe. “You’re not too bad yourself, Hugh,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hugh smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made your breath catch. You could feel the tension building between you, the unspoken attraction simmering just below the surface. His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt yourself leaning into his touch.

"Hugh," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He didn't reply, but his eyes said everything. He was as caught up in this moment as you were. His other hand came up to cup your face, holding you gently but firmly. You could feel his breath against your lips, warm and inviting. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

His lips hovered just inches from yours, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the magnetic pull drawing you closer. His eyes flicked to your lips and back to your eyes, seeking permission, waiting for a sign.

You gave the slightest nod, a silent invitation. That was all he needed.

Slowly, as if savoring every second, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, testing the waters. The contact was gentle, almost feather-light, but it sent a wave of heat through your body. Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, growing more confident and demanding. His lips moved against yours with a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, igniting a fire within you. You responded eagerly, your body pressing closer to his, craving more of his touch.

His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer still. You could feel the strength in his grip, the possessive way he held you making your pulse quicken. The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, filled with unspoken promises and undeniable chemistry.

When he pulled you closer, you could feel his bulge pressing against you, the sensation igniting a fire deep within. A rush of heat surged through your body, making you aware of how much you craved him. Every nerve seemed to tingle with anticipation, and the space between you crackled with unspoken desire.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. The intensity of it made your knees weak, and you pressed yourself against him, desperate for more. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, hard and demanding against your stomach, and it only fueled your longing. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him, to feel every part of him.

Your breath quickened, each inhale filled with the intoxicating scent of him. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, sliding down his chest, over the taut muscles, until they reached his belt. Your fingers fumbled in your eagerness, trembling with the intensity of your desire. The thought of what was to come made your heart race, and you could feel the slickness between your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed him.

Just as you began to loosen his belt, Hugh’s hand covered yours, halting your movements. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the dominance in his touch made you shiver. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

“Nu uh, not yet, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. His eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and filled with a fierce determination that made your pulse quicken even more. “I want to please you first.”

The promise in his words made your heart skip a beat, and the anticipation of what he was about to do was almost too much to bear. Your breath caught in your throat, and you let out a soft whimper, the need inside you growing more insistent.

His other hand slid down your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips, igniting a trail of fire on your skin. His touch was both soothing and electrifying, and you arched into him, silently begging for more. The way he looked at you, with such intensity and focus, made you feel like the center of his world.

“Hugh, please,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to savor every moment.”

Hugh's hands were firm but gentle as he gripped your thighs, lifting you with an effortless strength that made your breath hitch. He set you down on his desk, the cool surface contrasting with the heat radiating from your skin. The room felt charged, every second stretching out as his intense gaze bore into you. Your heart raced, anticipation and desire coiling in your belly. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Can I take a look at your panties and take them off?" he asked, his voice husky and dripping with intent.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you bit your lip, your body responding to his every word. You nodded, eyes wide and lips parted, but he wasn't satisfied with your silent answer. "I need words, baby," he murmured, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. His eyes held a command that you couldn't ignore. "Yes," you finally breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to take them off, please."

A slow smile spread across his face, sending a thrill through you. He slid his hands under your dress, fingers brushing against your thighs as he lifted you slightly. With deliberate, teasing movements, he peeled your black lace panties down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles. The air felt electric, every touch sending sparks along your skin. His eyes roamed over your now-bare form, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"Did you plan for this to happen?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge. The question made your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. You met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "No," you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "My granny underwear is in the washing machine." The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and oddly intimate.

Hugh's grin widened, his eyes darkening with amusement and desire. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I think I prefer the lace," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through you. The tension between you was unbearable, an unspoken promise of what was to come.

He knelt before you, his eyes dark with hunger and intent. The anticipation made your breath quicken as he placed his strong hands on your thighs, gently parting them and lifting them onto his broad shoulders. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his, filled with a confident, almost predatory desire. He paused for a moment, giving you a sexy look that sent shivers down your spine, before dipping his head between your legs.

The first touch of his mouth against you was like nothing you'd ever felt. You gasped, your body arching towards him as his warm breath and skillful tongue explored your most sensitive spots. He started slowly, teasing you with soft strokes, his lips and tongue moving with practiced expertise. The sensation was incredible, each flick and swirl driving you wild. When he began to suck on your clit, a moan escaped your lips, the pleasure so intense it felt like fire coursing through your veins.

You'd never been with an older man before, and the thrill of his experience, his confidence, heightened every sensation. His touch was commanding yet tender, a perfect balance that made you melt under his ministrations. His tongue moved in amazing patterns, drawing you closer to the edge with every motion. The excitement of this new experience mixed with the raw pleasure, making your moans louder and more frequent.

Then, without warning, he slipped two fingers inside you. They filled you perfectly, curling just right to hit that sweet spot. The sudden intrusion made you gasp and clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands. As you tugged, a deep, primal groan rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating against you. The sensation was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

His fingers worked in rhythm with his tongue, and you felt a building pressure, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. The combination of his skilled mouth and the fullness of his fingers was overwhelming, pushing you towards the brink. You could feel his own enjoyment in the way he groaned against you, his voice low and resonant, spurring you on. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate and precise, as if he knew exactly what you needed, where to touch to make you come undone.

As the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, you couldn't hold back. Your hips bucked against his mouth, your hands gripping his hair even tighter. His fingers and tongue moving faster, more insistent. The feel of his mouth and hands on you, sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, and then you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. The release was overwhelming, leaving you breathless and trembling. He continued to pleasure you through it all, his touch gentle but unrelenting, until you were spent and utterly satisfied.

As you came down from the high, your breaths ragged, he finally lifted his head. His eyes met yours, dark and satisfied, a smug smile playing on his lips. The sight of him, lips glistening with your pleasure, sent a final shiver down your spine.

You were still catching your breath, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, when Hugh pulled back and licked his lips, savoring the taste of you. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss. The sensation was intoxicating; you could taste yourself on his tongue, a delicious reminder of the intimacy you'd just shared. His fingers trailed back to your core, seeking to reignite the fire, but you pulled away, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

"Please, Hugh," you panted, your voice laced with desperation. "I'm begging you, I need to feel you inside me right now, or I'm going to go crazy." The urgency in your voice was undeniable,your body aching with unfulfilled desire.

He chuckled softly, the sound a dark, velvety caress that made your skin tingle. "Oh, my poor princess can't wait to have Daddy inside her," he teased, his words dripping with amusement and lust. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, making you bite your lip. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"Oh, so you really like being called Daddy, huh?" you purred, a teasing edge to your voice. "Well, I can arrange that for you." Your words were a playful challenge, a promise of more to come.

Hugh's lips curled into a wicked smile, and he pulled you into another heated kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a possessive intensity. As he kissed you, his hands deftly moved to unbuckle his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle and the rustle of fabric sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You watched with bated breath as he stripped off his pants and shirt, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. When your eyes fell on his impressive length, a gasp escaped your lips, louder than you'd intended. The sight of him, so big and ready, made your heart race and your core throb with need.

Hugh noticed your reaction and smirked, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. "It's okay, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "We'll take our time." He reached out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek, the touch tender in contrast to the raw passion between you.

As he stood before you, your eyes roamed over his body, drinking in the sight of his defined abs and broad, muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare at how well-built he was. "God, Hugh," you breathed, your voice filled with awe. "You're so sexy. I can't believe how ripped you are for your age." Your hand traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the hard planes of his torso. "These abs, this body... it's incredible." You looked up at him, biting your lip, the admiration in your eyes unmistakable.

He laughed and positioned himself between your legs, his hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer. You felt his tip graze your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you. You couldn't help but moan, your body arching towards him, craving more. He paused, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and desire. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yes," you breathed, barely able to form words. "Keep going, please." Your voice was laced with anticipation and desperation, the need for him overwhelming.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Hugh began to push inside you. The stretch was intense, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he filled you inch by inch. Your nails dug into his biceps, your fingers curling around the hard muscle as you adjusted to his size. "Oh my god, Hugh," you moaned, your voice breathless. "Fuck, you're so big."

A wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Call me Daddy, baby," he murmured, his voice a deep, commanding growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Daddy," you whimpered, the word slipping from your lips like a plea. The sound seemed to fuel him, his hips snapping forward, burying himself fully inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and fullness that left you gasping.

As Hugh began to thrust in and out, setting a rhythm that drove you wild, the intensity of the moment heightened. The pleasure was almost too much, your back arching, head tilting back. Hugh noticed, concern flickering in his eyes. He reached up, cradling the back of your head with one strong hand, his touch gentle and protective. "Easy, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Don't want you hurting yourself against the wall." The tender gesture made your heart flutter even as your body surged with lust.

He continued to move, each thrust deep and deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours. The connection between you was electric, every movement synchronized, every breath shared. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he set a slow, torturous rhythm. The pleasure built with each stroke, an intoxicating crescendo that left you breathless and begging for more.

Hugh's thumb found your clit, and he began to rub tight, precise circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body. Your breath hitched, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips in a breathless chant, a plea and a prayer. He picked up the pace, each thrust harder, more demanding, driving you wild with need.

"Come for me, princess," he urged, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come around me."

The combination of his deep, commanding voice and the skillful movements of his fingers and hips was too much. You felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm tore through you. You cried out, the pleasure so intense it left you shaking.

Hugh groaned, the sound low and primal, as he felt you tighten around him. His movements became erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased his own release. With a deep moan, he followed you over the edge, his release hot and deep inside you. The sensation sent a final wave of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms faded, Hugh leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips gentle and tender. The touch was a sweet contrast to the raw, passionate encounter you'd just shared. His hands caressed your skin, soothing you as you both came down from the high, the connection between you lingering in the air.

The room was silent except for your labored breaths, the intensity of the moment leaving you both in awe. Hugh pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft whispers of comfort and affection made you feel cherished and adored. It was more than just a physical connection; it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy that left you both craving more.

Just as you were catching your breath, a loud knock echoed from the door, making you both jump. You barely had time to react before you heard Ryan's voice, muffled but clear. "Hey, guys, next time be more subtle, okay?" His tone was teasing, but there was no mistaking the hint of amusement. You blushed furiously, burying your face in Hugh's chest as he chuckled softly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Noted," Hugh called back, his voice laced with humor. He looked down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Guess we'll have to be quieter next time, huh, princess?" He stroked your cheek tenderly, his expression softening. The playful moment broke the tension, leaving you both laughing softly, the bond between you stronger than ever.

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club

Pairing: The grid x driver!reader, Lance Stroll x reader

Summary: A wild goose chase ensues when you are at a meeting with your book club

requests are open (plz send some, i can’t keep only getting ideas while driving 🥺) masterlist

————————

“Guys, have you seen y/n?” Lance panics, rushing into the McLaren garage. It’s not the first time his girlfriend had disappeared from her garage but he’s always been able to find you a few steps away.

“She’s missing?” Lando leaped out of his chair. “Come on, Oscar, we gotta find her,” Lando drags his teammate out of the garage, following Lance to the Mercedes garage to find George.

“Any y/n sightings?” a very stressed out Lance asks.

“No, but now I am invested,” the Brit tags along in the search, hopping over to the Ferrari garage.

“Mes amis, you seem stressed,” Charles says, looking up from his book.

“Y/n is missing, Lance can’t find his girlfriend,” Oscar sighs, not sure why he isn’t leaving the group.

“No, we must join the quest, Charles,” Carlos says, clapping his teammate on the shoulder.

“Alright, only for y/n,” Charles, like oscar, begrudgingly agrees to join the ‘noble quest’.

Meanwhile, y/n is sitting on the couch, wearing a chunky cardigan and a pair of fashion glasses, sipping tea.

“No, Lizzy was clearly in love with Darcy even then,” Fernando waves his hands. This month’s book was Pride and Prejudice.

“Sure, Fernando,” Valtteri rolls his eyes.

The book club, affectionately called ‘The Old Drivers Club’ started when y/n barged into the Haas garage, claiming she needed their opinions and that she was tired of all the young drivers. Despite her being only 21, she found a home with some of the older drivers in the Paddock. The club consisted of her, Fernando, Valtteri, Kevin, and Nico. Lewis wanted to hold on to his youth, as he claimed, and Checo didn’t quite care for their gossip sessions.

“I still don’t understand how you can go from a 20 year old party animal to a 80 year old grandma overnight,” Kevin teases the young girl, bringing up a common point of conversation (usually her complaining about the younger drivers).

“And I don’t understand how you all don’t find Nico attractive? If I was ten years older, I would be all over him. God damn, what a fine man,” you swoon, causing the German to blush fiercely.

“Yes, yes, someone who could outshine Charles Leclerc in his prime,” Fernando dismisses it with the wave of his hand. You giggle and refocus on the book discussion.

“Nando,” you prompt him, silently asking him to go to the next topic.

“Alright, alright, let’s discuss what was probably y/n’s favorite scene, the confession scene. The second one, not in the rain,” Fernando says, and you shyly look down, the older drivers knowing you too well.

“Max, Checo, have you seen y/n?” Lance asks, even more flustered, half the grid behind him.

“Y/n? Why do you ask?” Max says, looking at his teammate.

“She’s missing!” Lando exclaims causing Checo to laugh.

“No, no. She’s with her book club, in the Haas motor home. I sometimes join them, interesting gossip, but not quite for me, no,” Checo says, looking oddly at the group.

“Her- her book club?” Lance asks, utterly confused.

“Si. Lewis has been invited too, but he claims he is too young,” Checo laughs to himself.

“Sorry mate, a book club?” George asks, a little offended he was never invited.

“And gossip? I’m a little offended I’ve never been invited,” Pierre gasps.

“Well? Is that all,” Max asks, wanting the group to leave his garage.

“Right, well I guess we go to Haas,” Carlos says, quickly thanking the Red Bull drivers.

“VALTTERI!” Your astonished gasp is heard from outside. Your group had moved on to what some think is the more enjoyable part of the evening, the gossip.

“Y/n! Oh thank god, we were worried sick,” Lando dramatically says at the doorway, having opened the door, revealing your group. The five of you look at the other group wildly confused.

“Worried sick?” You ask, looking at them.

“You were missing, I couldn’t find you,” Lance scratches the back of his neck, a little confused.

“I,” you pause before laughing. “Lancelot, you could’ve texted me,” you tell him.

“Why weren’t Pierre and I invited?” George asks, looking accusingly at your group.

“You don’t fit the criteria,” Kevin says, dismissing the question.

“And y/n does?” Pierre asks.

“Yes. When she sits upside down on your couch to gossip and complain about you all, and ask for life advice, then we might consider it,” Nico shakes his head.

“She is the founder of our group,” Valtteri points out.

“You also have to find young Nico attractive, more than current Charles,” Fernando teases, causing the young girl to blush.

“He was!” You defend yourself, and Carlos nods in agreement.

“Your girlfriend, mate. I’m surprisingly glad I tagged along,” Oscar says to Lance, pretty amused at the chaos.

“Out of curiosity, what is your next book?” George asks, your face lighting up.

“We are on a classics kick right now, so we are reading the No Fear version of Romeo and Juliet,” you say excitedly causing George and Charles to groan.

“We can’t join?” Charles asks again.

“Sorry, Leclerc, only room for one hot driver here,” Nico winks at you, causing your cheeks to redden.

“HEY!” most of the drivers in the room take offense to it, Lance mainly because the wink was directed at his girlfriend.

“Alas, if only you didn’t have a wife and kid, and I was ten years older,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“In another life, Mein Liebchen,” Nico sighs as well.

“Alright, I’m stealing back my girlfriend,” Lance pulls you away.

“Lancelot,” you giggle, waving goodbye to your book club.

“It is in these moments that I remember how young she is and how old we are,” Fernando sighs, Lewis taking your seat.

“My bones ache more and more each day, mate,” Lewis shakes his head.

“Welcome to our club, have the first act read by the next race,”

[2handsslan]

oscar piastri // op81 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

oscar's a grouch (or is he?) - @katsu28

“to your knowledge, oscar piastri really doesn't like you. but a night out in monaco makes you realize that maybe you don't know oscar's feelings towards you quite as well as you think you do”

bite the dust - @spiderbeam

“oscar thinks watching your old prema racing videos is embarrassing for many reasons… just not the ones you think”

be brave - @scuderiahoney

“you’re a teacher, and someone’s had the brilliant idea to send your class full of 5 year olds to the mclaren technology centre. chaos ensues. oscar’s there to help”

first win - @harrysfolklore

“the road to oscar’s first grand prix win”

she’s no ordinary girl - @theemporium

“an investigative study into the mysterious fish that saved his life; by oscar piastri with the assistance of logan sargeant, google searches and a crush that makes a man blind to the obvious signs that his coworker is a mermaid”

birthday buddies - @thef1diary

“at a joint birthday party organized by mutual friends, you and oscar find yourselves unexpectedly meeting for the first time while cutting the cake”

smau

on air - @diqldrunks - smau

behind the scenes (pt2) pre season interview (pt3)

“ in which oscar has a favourite interviewer (and she has a favourite driver)”

beached! - @povlnfour - smau

“after oscar saves you from an embarrassing accident on the beach, you accidentally go viral”

the art of us series - @piastree - smau

“at a charity event, sscar teams up with y/n for a sim racing challenge. they quickly find enjoyment in each other's company, work well together, and form a surprising bond”

heaven series - @81folklore - smau

“you are oscar’s long term secret girlfriend and you start hinting on your instagrams”

perfect all american - @iamred-iamyellow - smau

“you and oscar decided to make your relationship a secret in hopes to not stir up any “conflict of interest” rumors. however, he just couldn’t help being a proud boyfriend when you won your first race for williams as a rookie”

so american - @harrysfolklore - smau

“oscar has a huge crush on a famous pop singer, she has no idea of who he is”

guilty as sin series - @leclerc-s - smau

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 7

Word Count: 19.4k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, dubcon, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding, possession, mentions of pregnancy, FILTHY sex, fighting, gunshots, mentions of murder, manipulation, overstimulation if you squint, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, alcohol consumption, drunk sex, 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, @webmvie, @housesortinghat,

AN: Hi all, I know this chapter is a tad bit long, but I promise, its WORTH it. Per usual this is on A03! I'm like a day late from my usual uploading schedule (usually one chapter every 3-4 days) so I hope yall take this extra long chapter as an apology. I did not hold back on the smut, I genuinely hope yall enjoy!

“Let’s see…” he murmured, pretending to ponder, as if this were some casual decision for him to make. His fingers traced the nape of your neck, their touch light but chilling, sending jolts of dread through you. His hand moved with a practiced, deliberate care, as though every inch of your body was territory he owned. "Which one of these spots," he whispered, his voice taking on a dark, playful edge, "will make this kitten mewl?"

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

Xavier couldn’t tell how long he had been walking. Time had blurred into the inky darkness of the N109 Zone, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him with every step. His legs felt heavy, his throat dry, but his focus remained sharp. The soft, steady ping of his hunter’s watch echoed in the silence, pulling him forward. Somewhere ahead, the shoe store waited—the only lead he had left. And all he had to rely on was the sword strapped across his chest and his unwavering will to find you.

His fingers brushed the hilt of the blade as he walked, its weight a cold reassurance against his body. He wasn't sure how effective it would be against any other humans that attempted to mug him as he was used to fighting wanderers with it, but it would have to do. He was glad he had at least gotten out the car with it. He had moved it to his chest in case someone decided to sneak behind him while he was distracted and take it. Out here, in this wasteland, he was vulnerable without a vehicle, without the tools and resources he normally carried. But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was you.

The streets around him were desolate, the buildings crumbling and lifeless, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. He could hear his own breath in the silence, shallow but steady, the cold air biting at his skin. Every now and then, he’d catch the distant echo of movement—too far off to be a threat, but close enough to remind him he wasn’t alone in this forsaken place. The N109 Zone was crawling with people desperate enough to do anything, and he knew he needed to stay alert.

He couldn’t shake the memory of what had happened—the screaming woman, the setup, the way his car had been stolen right from under him. He cursed under his breath, the sting of his own stupidity still fresh. He had fallen for it so easily, and now he was on foot, more vulnerable than ever.

Xavier clenched his jaw, replaying the earlier scene in his head. The way she had cried out for help, clutching her side like she was in agony, the way her eyes had flickered with panic. He should have known better. He did know better. But in that moment, with everything closing in, he had let his instincts take over. He thought he was helping someone. Instead, he had been played.

“Dammit” he muttered to himself, fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword as he kept up a steady pace. He couldn’t afford mistakes like that, not now. Not when you were out there, somewhere, needing him to stay sharp. He had to be smarter, more careful. The N109 Zone wasn’t a place for second chances.

His legs were growing heavy, the muscles in his calves burning from the relentless pace. Every few steps, he felt the dull throb of fatigue creeping into his knees and hips, a reminder that his body wasn’t invincible. His feet, blistered and sore, screamed for him to stop, to rest—if only for a moment. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

"Just a little further," he muttered under his breath, clenching his teeth against the pain.

He had been walking for what felt like hours, the weight of the sword strapped across his chest growing heavier with every step. His back ached from the constant pressure, his shoulders tense and knotted. But none of that mattered. He couldn’t afford to stop. Not when he was so close.

Each step felt like it might be the last, but the thought of you—struggling, god knows where—kept him moving. The sound of your voice from the phone call replayed in his mind, the fear and desperation in your tone fueling him, reminding him why he had to keep going.

The streets began to blur together, one broken block after another. His breaths came in shallow bursts, his lungs burning as he fought through the exhaustion. He was tired—no, he was beyond tired—but his will to find you was stronger than the fatigue gnawing at him. He couldn’t let it win.

Up ahead, the faint glow of a yellowed sign caught his eye. It was flickering weakly, casting long, broken shadows across the pavement. He squinted, his tired eyes struggling to focus. There it was—the address the watch had been guiding him toward. The shoe store.

Xavier let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His feet felt like lead, every step toward the store a battle against the growing urge to collapse. But the sight of the sign was enough to keep him moving. He was almost there.

As Xavier drew closer to the shoe store, he couldn’t help but feel a knot of doubt tightening in his chest. The outside of the building didn’t match what he had expected. The flickering sign was barely legible, the letters worn and faded, and the windows were grimy with age, giving the place a run-down appearance. It didn’t look like the kind of high-end store that sold the sleek, expensive boots the clerk had described—the same shoes your captor had been wearing.

He slowed his pace, his tired feet grateful for the brief respite as he studied the building. This can’t be right, he thought, a frown pulling at his lips. The store looked more like a relic from a forgotten time, barely holding itself together in the decaying sprawl of the N109 Zone. The mismatched paint on the door and the rusted metal frame didn’t scream wealth or sophistication. Nothing about it said “luxury.”

Xavier’s mind raced, questioning whether his watch had guided him to the wrong place. The man who took you, S, wasn’t just some street thug. He had resources, money—it was clear from the boots alone. So why here? Why a store that looked like it belonged in the past, forgotten like rest of the city?

His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword, the familiar weight grounding him. The exhaustion still gnawed at him, his body screaming for rest, but he pushed the thought aside. He didn’t have time for second guesses. Even if this place didn’t look like much, he had to see it through. There was a reason his watch had led him here, and right now, it was the only lead he had.

Xavier’s blue eyes narrowed as he approached the door, the soft ping of his watch still steady on his wrist. It had never been wrong before. Maybe there was more to this store than what the outside suggested. Maybe S had connections, or maybe this place wasn’t as abandoned as it seemed. Either way, he had to be sure.

With a deep breath, he stepped toward the entrance, his hand resting on the door handle. He could feel the tension building inside him, his muscles coiled and ready for whatever might be waiting on the other side.

Xavier pushed open the door, bracing himself for the dingy interior he had expected based on the store’s run-down exterior. But as he stepped inside, he was immediately hit with a wave of disbelief. The space before him was nothing like the crumbling facade suggested. It was… luxurious.

Golden light bathed the polished floors, and the soft scent of leather and expensive cologne filled the air. Rows of sleek, high-end shoes lined the walls, each pair displayed under soft spotlights that highlighted their craftsmanship. Everything from the plush chairs in the waiting area to the glass display cases screamed elegance. The contrast between the worn-down exterior and the opulent interior was staggering.

For a moment, Xavier stood frozen in the doorway, his tired feet sinking into a plush carpet that muffled every sound. This wasn’t just a shoe store—it was a shrine to wealth and exclusivity, hidden behind the illusion of neglect. Clearly, this place wasn’t meant for just anyone. The shabby outside had been nothing but a mask, a way to keep out the prying eyes of the city’s less desirable inhabitants.

They were certainly selling more than just shoes.

He scanned the room, taking it all in. The shoes were high-end, just as the clerk had said—designer labels, rare materials, the kind of footwear that cost more than most people made in a month. The kind of shoes that only someone with serious money could afford. Someone like S.

Looks really could be deceiving.

Xavier’s mind raced. If this store catered to people like S, then maybe he was finally on the right track. Maybe the person who had taken you had come through here, thinking no one would ever suspect a connection to a place buried so deep in the N109 Zone.

His heart pounded, adrenaline kicking in as the exhaustion in his legs momentarily faded. He was closer to answers than he had been all night.

Behind the sleek glass counter at the back of the store, two men stood in conversation, their voices low but animated. One of them was tall and broad-shouldered, his tailored suit fitting him perfectly, the fabric shimmering subtly under the warm light. His dark hair was slicked back, and his fingers twitched as he gestured while speaking, a fat cigar wedged between them, sending curls of thick smoke into the air. The smoke hung heavily around his face, casting shadows over his sharp, predatory features. His eyes were dark and calculating, darting between the man beside him and the wares in the store, as if always on the lookout for the next move.

The other man was shorter, with a stockier build and a face that looked like it had seen one too many fights. His nose was crooked, a clear sign of old breaks, and his lips were drawn into a permanent scowl. He leaned casually against the counter, but there was a hardness to his posture, like he was always ready to snap into action. His eyes, though half-lidded with boredom, flicked toward the door with keen awareness as soon as Xavier entered.

For a moment, the two continued their conversation, but when they noticed Xavier standing there, something changed. The man with the cigar froze mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Xavier. His gaze shifted immediately to the sword strapped across Xavier's chest, the blade unmistakably visible under the store's soft lighting. The other man straightened, his scowl deepening as he looked Xavier up and down, suspicion clear on his battered face.

They exchanged a brief glance, their conversation forgotten. It was clear Xavier didn’t fit the usual profile of their clientele—well-dressed, wealthy types who’d come for rare shoes, not a man wandering in with a weapon strapped to his body, his clothes dusted from the road, looking out of place among the store’s refined luxury.

The man with the cigar took a slow drag, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking. His voice was smooth but laced with tension. “You lost, pal? Don’t think we’ve seen you around here before.” His eyes lingered on the sword a little too long.

The other man crossed his arms, his posture stiffening. “We don’t usually get the sword-swinging type in here,” he added with a sneer, his tone carrying an edge of hostility.

Xavier could feel their eyes drilling into him, the tension in the room palpable. They weren’t used to outsiders—especially ones who looked like they were ready for a fight.

Xavier remained unfazed by their stares, standing tall as he took in the two men sizing him up. His heart beat steadily beneath his chest, the weight of the sword across his body a constant reminder of the danger he was prepared to face. But he wasn’t here to start a fight—not yet, anyway.

“I’m looking for a pair of boots,” Xavier said, his voice calm and even. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the crumpled pamphlet the clerk back in Linkon had given him. He held it out, offering it to the taller man.

The taller man raised a dark eyebrow, his cigar still smoldering between his fingers. He didn’t say anything at first, just flicked his eyes from Xavier’s face to the pamphlet in his hand. After a moment of tense silence, he reached forward and plucked the paper from Xavier’s grasp, holding it between two fingers like it was something foreign. He glanced at it, his expression unreadable as his eyes scanned the image of the shoes.

"These," Xavier continued, nodding at the pamphlet, "were mentioned to me by a clerk. Said I could only find them here. Figured I’d check it out.”

The taller man took a long drag of his cigar before flicking the ash into a nearby tray, his gaze never leaving the pamphlet. Slowly, his lips curled into something that might’ve been a smile, but there was no warmth behind it—only suspicion. He flipped the paper over, examining it from every angle, as though looking for some hidden meaning.

"Yeah, these are high-end," the man finally said, his voice slow, almost mocking. “Not the kind of thing just anyone walks in and buys.” He held the pamphlet up, the glow from the store lights glinting off the printed image. “And you don’t look like someone who usually shops here.”

The stocky man leaned forward, still watching Xavier closely, his scowl deepening as if he didn’t trust a single word. “So, who exactly sent you here, huh?” His voice was sharper now, probing. “You’re not exactly our regular kind of customer.”

Xavier met their suspicion head-on, his expression calm and unwavering. He wasn’t here for their games. He was here for answers.

Xavier stood there for a moment, weighing his options. He could lie, make up some story about why he was really there, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. These men were sharp, too familiar with deception to fall for anything that didn't add up. He needed answers, not more dead ends. So, he decided to be straightforward—at least, as much as he could afford to be.

"I'm looking for someone," Xavier said, his voice low and steady. He kept his eyes on the taller man, watching his every reaction. “A man who goes by 'S'. I was told he might have been in here recently, maybe bought a pair of those shoes.”

For a moment, the room seemed to freeze. The taller man’s fingers stopped tapping the pamphlet, and the stocky one stiffened, his arms crossing even tighter over his chest. They exchanged a brief, tense glance.

Xavier could feel the shift in the air, the sudden unease hanging between them. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Whoever this "S" was, they knew him, or at least knew of him. And the fact that Xavier had mentioned his name seemed to set off alarm bells.

The taller man’s smile faded, replaced by a cold, guarded expression. He took another drag from his cigar, blowing the smoke into the air as he stared at Xavier, sizing him up once more. “S?” he repeated, his voice slow and deliberate, as if testing the waters.

“Never heard of him,” the stocky man cut in, his voice gruff, almost too quick. “Nobody like that shops here.”

Xavier held their gaze, not flinching. He could see the flicker of worry behind their eyes. They were hiding something. His instincts told him they knew exactly who he was talking about, but the way they clammed up the second he mentioned "S" told him they were afraid—afraid of being connected to something, or someone, dangerous.

The taller man folded the pamphlet neatly and set it down on the counter, his movements slow, deliberate. “You sure you’re not lost, friend?” he asked, his tone flat, giving nothing away. “This isn’t the kind of place you just wander into looking for people. This ain't the lost and found.”

Xavier felt the tension in the room thicken. It was clear they were stonewalling him, and the last thing they wanted was to get involved in whatever it was he was digging into. Whether it was out of fear of S or something else, they were keeping their mouths shut.

Xavier, sensing the deadlock and knowing he had to break it, leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as he played his next card. “Look, I’m not just some guy wandering in off the street,” he said, his tone conspiratorial. “I’ve got something that could be worth your while. High-grade protocores. Rare, illegal, and powerful enough to charge just about anything—if you know what you’re doing.” It was a lie, of course. He had no such thing, but he was banking on the fact that the promise of something so valuable might loosen their lips.

The taller man’s eyes narrowed, his cigar still smoldering between his fingers. He glanced at his stocky companion, who gave a subtle nod, before turning his full attention back to Xavier. “Protocores, huh? Those are worth more than a few pairs of shoes, friend,” the taller man said slowly, his voice laced with skepticism. “Where exactly did you get your hands on something like that?”

Xavier didn’t hesitate. He knew he had to sell the lie convincingly. “Can't say,” he said casually, leaning back slightly, as if it were no big deal. “You don’t get this far in the city without knowing a few people. Let’s just say I have connections.”

Xavier looked at them, not breaking eye contact, praying he looked confident enough to seem truthful.

The two men exchanged another look, this one lingering just a bit longer. The doubt was still there, but now it was mixed with greed. If there was one thing people in places like this couldn’t resist, it was the allure of something rare and illegal—especially if it was valuable.

The stocky man finally broke the silence, his scowl softening slightly as he uncrossed his arms. “Alright, we’ll bite,” he said, his voice less hostile now. “You’ve got these protocores, and you want information. Fair enough. What exactly are you looking to know?”

Xavier kept his expression calm, but inside, he could feel the tension slowly starting to ease. He was getting somewhere. “I’m looking for a man who bought those high-end boots recently,” he said, nodding to the shoes on display. “You said no one like S shops here, but I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

The taller man’s eyes flickered again, and for the first time, Xavier saw the cracks forming in their stone-faced resistance. The man took a long drag on his cigar, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled. “Two guys come in here fairly regularly,” he finally admitted, his voice low. “Both of them wear masks. Don't ask names, don't care to. They both bought the same pair of boots you're talking about.”

Xavier’s heart skipped a beat. “Two men?” he repeated, his mind racing. He had been certain that S was the one who took you, but now... two masked men? That changed everything. “You sure it was two?”

The stocky man nodded. “Yeah, two of ‘em. Paid in full, no questions asked. They didn’t stick around long. Didn’t want to be noticed.” He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “But they were a tad bit annoying. Seemed pretty close, cracking jokes and whatnot. One of them called the other "bigfoot". Got a laugh out of me".

Xavier’s mind spun with this new information. He had always assumed S was acting alone, but this revelation changed everything. If there were two of them, that meant he wasn’t just dealing with a single captor. Were these men working together to take you? And if so, what the hell were they planning?

“Anything else?” Xavier pressed, trying to hide the shock from his voice. “Did they say where they were headed? Anything at all?”

The taller man took another drag on his cigar, the smoke swirling in the dim light. “Didn’t say much. But they left in a hurry. Seemed like they had somewhere to be. Somewhere in the N109 Zone, from what I could gather. They didn’t strike me as the kind of guys who hang around too long.”

Xavier’s mind raced as he processed the information. Two men, both masked, buying the exact boots that matched the footprint seen in your apartment. This was bigger than he thought.

Xavier's pulse quickened as the conversation took an unexpected turn. He had to push this further. Keeping his voice steady, he asked, “Have you also seen a girl? Someone...matching this description?” He gave them a rundown of your features, his tone deliberately casual, though every fiber of his being was on high alert. The taller man's reaction was immediate and telling—his eyes widened ever so slightly.

“A girl?” the taller man echoed, his voice laced with curiosity. His gaze flickered to his companion before returning to Xavier.

Xavier nodded, fighting to keep his expression calm despite the tension building inside him. “Yeah. She would’ve come through here recently. Looks...rough.”

The man tapped his cigar against the ashtray, his brows furrowing in thought. “You know, now that you mention it…” He paused, his gaze sharpening as if recalling something. “I did see my bud, Reese, not too long ago before I came in. He was walking around with a girl that kinda looked like that. Thought it was strange, actually.”

Xavier’s heartbeat thudded in his chest, but he kept his face neutral. “Reese?”

“Yeah,” the taller man said with a smirk, taking another slow drag from his cigar. “She looked like shit, though. Like she’d been through hell. I was gonna ask him what was up, but I didn’t wanna get involved in whatever he’s got going on these days. Reese has been... keeping a low profile lately. Wonder what he’s up to now.”

Xavier’s mind raced and he felt like he just struck gold. Reese. Another name—another lead. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but there were still so many unanswered questions. Reese...was this the man you had mentioned over the phone that was with you? Either way, if this man had seen you with him, Xavier was one step closer to finding you.

His jaw tightened, the weight of urgency settling over him again. “Where can I find Reese?”

The taller man seemed to mull it over for a moment, his eyes narrowing in thought. Finally, with a sigh, he stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray, the smoke curling lazily into the air as he leaned forward. “You want to know where to find Reese, huh? Well, you can find him over on the east side of the city,” he said, his voice low and casual. “But don’t get your hopes up. He’s never in one place for long. Always on the move. Kinda quiet too, y’know?”

He rattled off a series of directions and a description of a house, pointing out a few places where Reese was known to frequent, though there was no guarantee he’d be there when Xavier arrived. It was a lead, though—a real one. Xavier nodded, his mind already turning over the possibilities.

Just as he was about to thank them and leave, the smaller man, who had been quiet for a while, suddenly piped up. “Alright, enough talking,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Where are these protocores you were bragging about?”

Xavier could feel the tension in the room spike instantly. He had known this moment would come, and he had been prepared for it, but now that they were pressing him, the lie felt razor-thin. He could see the smaller man’s patience wearing thin, and the taller one watching him with quiet intensity.

Xavier's grin didn’t falter as he lied, but he could feel the weight of their growing suspicion thickening the air. “I’ll be back with the protocores,” he said, his voice smooth. “Just need to track down Reese first. After I get what I need, we can make the trade.”

The taller man’s expression darkened, the faint amusement fading from his face. His eyes darted to the smaller man, who had already started to reach for something beneath the counter. Xavier felt his muscles tense, every instinct screaming that things were about to go south.

“Yeah?” the smaller man sneered, his voice sharp. “You think we’re that stupid? You expect us to believe you’re just gonna walk out and come back with illegal protocores for a couple of thugs like us?”

Before Xavier could respond, the smaller man whipped out a gun from behind the counter, followed almost instantly by the taller man drawing his own firearm.

“Don’t think so, pal,” the taller man growled. “You’re not going anywhere without giving us what you promised.”

In that split second, Xavier’s mind went cold and focused, his body moving on pure reflex. He wasn’t going to wait for them to make the first move. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword, pulling it free in a smooth motion just as the first shot rang out.

The bullet whizzed past his head, grazing the air where he’d just been standing. Xavier moved like lightning, his blade slicing through the space between him and the men as he spun out of the line of fire. The sword was an extension of his body, deflecting the second shot with a sharp clang as metal met metal.

The store was small, too cramped for a proper firefight, and that was the only advantage he had. He darted between the shelves, using the displays as cover as more bullets flew past him, shattering glass and sending shoes tumbling to the floor. His feet moved quickly, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, pushing him to act faster, think sharper.

“Get him!” the smaller man shouted, his voice thick with rage, but Xavier was already in motion, anticipating their next move.

With a swift slash, Xavier knocked the gun from the smaller man’s hand, sending it skittering across the floor. The taller man fired again, the flash of the muzzle lighting up the store in bursts, but Xavier was quick, his sword a blur as he deflected another shot, closing the distance between them.

There was no time to think—only to act. He couldn’t risk staying any longer. The exit was in sight, and Xavier knew he had to make a break for it.

As Xavier faced down the two armed men, his instincts kicked into overdrive. He wasn’t just fast—he had something else up his sleeve. Something that had saved him more times than he could count.

His Evol.

In the split second after the taller man raised his gun to fire again, Xavier made a decision. He’d have to use it. His fingers tightened on the end of his sword, but deep inside, he reached for the light, feeling the familiar surge of energy that came with it. The taller man aimed, ready to fire, but Xavier didn’t give him the chance.

With a flicker of thought, a blinding flash erupted from Xavier’s body, the entire store flooding with a searing white light. It was like staring into the heart of a star—overwhelming and inescapable.

Both men shouted in surprise, their hands flying to shield their eyes, but it was too late. The light had already done its job. They staggered, momentarily blinded, their arms swinging wildly as they tried to find him in the confusion.

“Wha—what the hell is this?!” the smaller man yelled, his voice frantic as he stumbled backward, clattering to the floor in agony. The taller man cursed under his breath, blinking furiously, but all he could see was the brilliant afterglow burned into his retinas.

Xavier didn’t waste a second. With the men disoriented and helpless, he made his move. His sword glinted in the light as he slashed out, knocking the gun from the taller man’s grip before spinning toward the door. The sound of their shouts barely registered over the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The door loomed ahead, and with one final burst of speed, Xavier pushed through it, escaping into the night. The cool air hit his face like a slap, the sudden contrast from the heat of the fight inside momentarily grounding him.

Behind him, the men were still shouting, stumbling around blindly, their voices growing fainter as he sprinted down the street. He didn’t look back. The light was already beginning to fade, but it had bought him the time he needed.

Xavier’s feet pounded against the pavement as he ran, the city’s crumbling streets blurring around him. The shouting from inside the store had stopped, but he knew they wouldn’t just let him go that easily. They’d recover, and when they did, they’d be looking for him.

He turned sharply down an alleyway, his breath ragged in his throat, his mind already turning to his next move. Reese was out there—on the east side of town—and now, with the information he had, he was closer than ever to finding you.

Xavier’s feet pounded against the pavement, but with every step, a bone-deep exhaustion gnawed at him. The burst of energy he had unleashed through his Evol had taken its toll—draining what little strength he had left. His body ached, muscles protesting with every movement. He tried to push through it, to keep running, but it was as if his legs were filled with lead. His vision blurred at the edges, his head spinning. The lack of sleep was catching up with him fast.

He stumbled over a crack in the pavement, his feet dragging beneath him as the world around him spun. His breath came in ragged bursts, and the streetlights seemed to blur, their light flickering in and out of focus. A sharp, relentless ache had settled into his bones, and his vision dimmed as a wave of dizziness overtook him.

He fought it, clenching his fists, trying to force himself to keep going. But then a deeper voice inside cut through the haze. You can’t find her if you’re dead on your feet.

His steps slowed, and he blinked hard, fighting the swirling darkness closing in at the edges of his vision. He needed rest—just for a little while. His body wasn’t made for Earth’s atmosphere, not for this endless strain. His Evol had drained what little energy he had left, and he couldn’t keep pushing through it. Not like this.

"Just for a little bit," Xavier muttered to himself, staggering toward a shadowy alleyway. His eyes caught on an old, abandoned house at the far end of the block. The building was crumbling, its windows shattered and the door barely hanging on its hinges, but it offered some semblance of shelter. It was better than nothing.

I can’t find her if I’m exhausted, he reasoned with himself, though guilt already clawed at him. Every second he rested felt like time slipping away—time you didn’t have. But he knew if he kept going like this, he’d be no good to you when he did find you. He’d collapse somewhere on the side of the road, useless and beaten by exhaustion. He couldn’t let that happen.

Xavier staggered toward the house, the world tilting around him as he shoved the door open. The hinges groaned in protest, but he ignored the noise, stumbling inside. Dust swirled through the air, and the floorboards creaked beneath his boots, but he was already beyond caring. The interior was dark, musty, but a worn, sagging couch caught his eye in the dim light.

He dropped onto it without a second thought, his entire body aching with relief as he sank into the old fabric. The sword strapped across his chest rested heavily against him, but even the weight of the weapon couldn’t keep him awake. His limbs felt like lead, and despite the pounding in his mind telling him to get up, to keep moving, sleep pulled at him relentlessly.

His last coherent thought was of you—somewhere out there, waiting for him. Just for a little bit, he told himself again, his eyelids fluttering shut. Then I’ll find you.

Sleep came hard and fast, dragging him down into the deep, dreamless void.

When Xavier finally woke, he bolted upright, his heart hammering in his chest. His mind raced, scrambling to make sense of where he was, his breath coming in short gasps. For a moment, he stared at the cracked walls of the abandoned house, confusion gripping him. Then it hit him—he had fallen asleep. He didn’t know how long he had been out, but his body felt sluggish and stiff, like too much time had passed.

His heart hammered harder in his chest as his hand instinctively reached for his pocket, fumbling for his phone. His fingers trembled as he pulled it out and flipped it open, the cold glow of the screen casting a harsh light on his face.

His eyes locked onto the almost dead battery and then the date.

Three days.

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening as the realization hit him like a gut punch. He blinked, staring at the screen, hoping—praying—that he was reading it wrong. But no. Three full days had passed.

"Three days…" The words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong to him, as if acknowledging them made the situation real. Three days of nothing. Three days of lost time. His stupid body had failed him once again.

He cursed under his breath, his frustration boiling over into something sharper, hotter. How had he let this happen? He had only meant to rest for a few hours—just enough to clear the exhaustion from his system—but his body had betrayed him. Now, three precious days were gone. Three days that you had been out there, alone. Three days that he should have been looking for you.

His grip tightened around the phone as the guilt gnawed at him. I was supposed to protect you, he thought bitterly. I was supposed to be there for you, and I’ve wasted three days doing nothing.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, his jaw clenched tight. There was no time to sit around hating himself for it—he couldn’t afford that. Not anymore. His muscles were stiff from sleep, his joints aching, but he ignored it, pushing through the discomfort as he stood and grabbed his sword. The familiar weight of the weapon on his back grounded him, pulling his mind back into focus.

Reese. East side of town.

He had to find Reese. That was the only lead he had left. The man from the shoe store had given him directions, and even though it felt like a lifetime ago, they replayed in his mind, clear and sharp.

Xavier’s heart raced as he rushed out of the house, the cold night air slapping him awake. His body still ached from the strain of the last few days, but the fear of how much time he had lost was stronger, driving him forward. He couldn’t lose you, not now, not after everything. He couldn’t let three days of inaction be the difference between finding you and losing you forever.

With renewed urgency, Xavier broke into a sprint, following the path the man had given him toward the east side of town. His mind was clear now, the haze of exhaustion burned away by the crushing weight of time. Two days had passed, but he wasn’t going to waste another second.

Xavier’s legs felt like they had been running for hours, but he finally saw it. The house. It was run-down, like everything else in this part of town—its windows cracked, the walls stained with time and neglect. But his gut screamed that this was the place. Something about it pulled him forward, despite the fear gnawing at the back of his mind. He had come too far to stop now.

With anticipation and shaky breaths, Xavier gripped his sword tighter, steeling himself. He approached the front door cautiously, every instinct on high alert. This is it. She has to be here. You had said Reese was taking you to this place, and now here it was, right in front of him.

He rushed in, his sword drawn and ready to fight, his breath catching in his throat. His heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline surging through him as he scanned the interior. But as his eyes darted around the room, confusion began to set in. The house was... empty.

Xavier stood frozen for a moment, his chest tightening with disbelief. No, this can’t be right. He moved deeper into the house, his footsteps echoing off the rotting wood. The place looked abandoned—empty, save for a few bags scattered around the floor. He kicked one lightly, its contents spilling out—a white, powdery substance that made Xavier’s stomach churn.

Reese had a problem, that much was clear. But where was he? And more importantly, where were you?

Xavier’s mind raced as he searched the house, pushing open doors and turning over furniture, trying to make sense of the chaos. Panic clawed at him as the rooms yielded nothing but more bags and filth. You were supposed to be here. You had said Reese was taking you to his place. But now, it felt like you had disappeared into thin air.

He cursed under his breath, his pulse quickening as his frustration built. That was when he noticed it—off to the side, barely visible in the dim light of the house. A metal hatch in the floor, wide open, its rusted hinges silently beckoning him down.

Xavier froze for a second, his instincts screaming that this wasn’t going to be good. He gripped his sword tighter, the cold steel grounding him as he stepped toward the hatch. No sound came from below—just a heavy, oppressive silence. He steeled himself and descended, each creak of the stairs adding to the weight pressing on his chest.

As his boots hit the basement floor, the smell hit him first. The sharp, metallic scent of blood filled the air, thick and suffocating. The dim light barely illuminated the scene before him, but as his eyes adjusted, Xavier’s stomach lurched. There, lying in the center of the floor, was a mangled body, a gunshot wound to the head, its face twisted in a frozen mask of fear and pain. Dried blood and brain matter splattered the walls around him—too much to belong to just one person.

Xavier’s heart raced, a wave of nausea crashing over him. For a moment, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Was this you? The thought seized his chest in a vice grip, panic surging through his veins. He took a step forward, the dim light playing tricks on his eyes as he squinted, trying to make out the body on the floor. The tattered clothes, the lifeless form—it could be you. No, no, no...

His breath came in shallow gasps as he moved closer, the sword still held tightly in his hand as if ready to defend himself from whatever horror he might find. His eyes darted over the body, searching for any sign—any clue that would tell him it wasn’t you.

Then, finally, in the dim light, he saw it. The face. It wasn’t yours. Relief crashed over him in a wave so powerful it nearly knocked him off his feet. The body was that of a man, not a woman. His hair was matted with blood, his eyes wide in a permanent expression of terror.

Reese.

Xavier’s breath hitched. It had to be him. The man who had taken you. The man he was supposed to find. But now, Reese lay dead on the floor, his life ended by a brutal, cold execution. Xavier’s mind reeled, trying to make sense of it all. What had happened here? Who had done this?

He stepped back, his mind racing. If Reese is dead... where are you?

Xavier’s breath was shallow, his pulse pounding in his ears as he forced himself to keep moving. He stepped closer to the streaks of dried blood on the wall, his eyes narrowing as he noticed something horrifying beneath the splattered crimson. A pile of bones—broken, jagged—and organs lay in a twisted heap on the floor, half-hidden by the blood. His stomach churned, his mind racing.

This had been another person.

The gruesome scene was too much to process at once. Xavier’s hands began to tremble, his sword shaking in his grip as the terrible possibility hit him—was this you? He felt his chest tighten, his breath coming in quick, panicked bursts. His legs threatened to give out beneath him, the weight of the realization crushing his resolve.

His mind swirled in a storm of fear and doubt. He had come all this way, fought through exhaustion and danger to find you, and now he might be too late. He tried to steady himself, but the thought of what this pile of bones and flesh might mean twisted inside him like a blade.

A violent shiver ran through him. His resolve, the fierce determination that had kept him going, began to crack. He stared at the remains, his thoughts spiraling, his heart hammering in his chest. What if I was too late?

Then, breaking through the suffocating silence, a voice cut through the air behind him.

"Who are you?"

Xavier froze, his body instinctively tensing at the sound of the voice. The click of a gun followed, unmistakable and close. His blood ran cold, and he turned his head just enough to see her—a woman, standing in the doorway of the basement. She was dressed in casual business attire, her dark hair hanging around her face in sharp contrast to the blank, emotionless stare she wore. The gun in her hand was aimed squarely at him, her finger hovering over the trigger with terrifying calm.

His mind raced. He couldn’t let himself hesitate.

Before she could react, Xavier moved. With a burst of speed fueled by raw instinct, he spun around and drew his sword, faster than a blink of an eye. The blade flashed in the dim light, and before the woman could so much as blink, the gun flew from her hand, clattering to the ground.

In a breathless second, Xavier had her pinned against the wall, his sword’s razor-sharp tip pressed against her neck. His eyes, once filled with fear, were now burning with intensity. The blade hovered just millimeters from her throat, the cold steel biting against her skin.

“Who am I?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s not the question you should be asking.”

The woman’s expression didn’t change. She didn’t flinch, didn’t panic. She just stared back at him with the same unnerving calm, her dark eyes boring into his. For a moment, the two of them stood frozen in a tense standoff, the blade at her throat the only thing keeping her from making another move.

Xavier’s heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline still flooding his system. He had questions, too—too many to count—but first, he needed answers.

“Where is she?” he demanded, his voice sharp, his grip on the sword steady. “Where is the girl?”

The woman’s gaze didn’t waver. “The girl?” she repeated, her voice eerily even. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Her lips barely moved as she spoke, but there was something cold in her tone—something that sent a chill down Xavier’s spine.

He pressed the sword closer, the tip digging into her skin just enough to make his point clear. “Don’t play games with me,” he snarled, his patience fraying. “I know she was with Reese. Where is she?”

The woman’s eyes flickered, but her expression remained unreadable. “Reese is clearly dead,” she said calmly, glancing at the mangled body behind Xavier. “And if you don’t let me go, you will be too.”

Xavier’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, his mind racing. The pile of bones and blood on the floor was searing in his memory, and the chilling possibility that you might have been one of Reese’s victims still hung over him like a dark cloud. But this woman—she was too calm. Too controlled. And she knew something.

“Start talking,” he growled, his blade still steady. “Or I make sure you never leave this basement.”

The woman’s cold laughter echoed through the basement, sending a shiver down Xavier’s spine. There was something deeply unsettling about the way she stared at him—no fear, no hesitation, just cold, calculating amusement.

“It’s a shame… she turned out to be a match too,” she said, her voice laced with icy detachment.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, confusion and fury battling in his chest. A match? What the hell did she mean by that? His grip on the sword tightened, the blade hovering just inches from her throat. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice taut with barely restrained anger.

But the woman just stared at him, her expression unreadable. Her lips twisted into a faint smirk, the silence hanging between them like a lead weight.

Xavier’s patience snapped.

Without warning, he twisted her to the ground, slamming her onto the cold, dirty floor. She gasped as the air rushed from her lungs, her body momentarily stunned. He planted his foot firmly on her back, pressing her down with just enough force to keep her pinned, the tip of his sword now poised against the back of her head. It was a position he never imagined he'd put anyone in, especially a woman, but this was no time for hesitation. Not with your life on the line.

The woman’s breath was ragged, but her laughter returned, cold and mocking. “You know…” she began, her voice strained but still dripping with amusement. “There’s only one person who could have done this.”

Her words hung in the air, sending a fresh wave of dread through Xavier. His pulse quickened as he leaned in closer, his heart thundering in his chest. "What are you talking about?" he growled. “Who did this?”

The woman let out another chilling laugh, her shoulders shaking under his boot. “Don’t you wanna know his name?” she teased, her voice dangerously soft. “I’ll tell ya… if you let me up.”

Xavier’s eyes flashed with fury, his foot pressing harder against her back, his sword trembling slightly with the intensity of his grip. He was on the edge, his mind racing with the implications of her words. He had never been one to harm someone without reason, and the idea of taking this any further made his stomach twist. But he needed answers, and this woman was toying with him, dangling the information in front of him like a lure.

He hesitated for a moment, his conscience warring with the urgency of the situation. This could be his only shot at getting the truth. He needed to know who was behind this—who had taken you, who had turned Reese’s basement into a slaughterhouse. And if she had the answer…

“Talk,” he growled, the point of his sword pressing into the back of her neck. “Or I swear you won’t get another chance.”

The woman’s laughter stopped abruptly, the silence thick and unsettling. She let out a slow, deliberate breath, as if considering her next words carefully.

"Alright," she whispered. "But you'll regret it when you know."

Xavier, despite every fiber of his being screaming against it, slowly removed his foot from the woman’s back, allowing her to get up. His sword remained poised, ready, as he took a cautious step back. She pushed herself up, her breath ragged, her once composed appearance now disheveled—her hair wild and her expression no longer quite as cold. But she still wore that smug look, as if everything was unfolding just the way she wanted.

She dusted herself off and motioned toward the floor, where a few black feathers lay scattered among the blood and debris. Xavier's eyes narrowed in confusion, but he moved toward them, curiosity driving him. Kneeling down, he picked up one of the feathers, twirling it between his fingers. The texture was unnervingly soft against the backdrop of violence and death surrounding them. He stared at it, his mind spinning as he tried to piece together the meaning behind it.

The woman’s voice cut through the silence, pulling his attention back to her. "I’m sure you’ve heard of him," she said, a dark smile creeping across her face. "There’s not a single soul in the N109 Zone that doesn’t fear him."

No. It cant be?

Xavier’s grip tightened on the feather, his body tensing. He could sense where this was heading, but he didn’t want to hear it. Not yet.

"It’s a shame," she continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy, "Reese just happened to pick up his woman I guess."

Xavier’s blood boiled at her words. His woman? The idea of you being claimed by anyone, let alone someone like the monster she was referring to, made his vision blur with rage. His teeth clenched as he fought to keep his composure, the tip of his sword glinting as he took a step toward her, eyes blazing.

“Talk,” he growled, barely containing the fury in his voice. “And spit out his name. Now.”

The woman’s smile widened, pleased to have drawn out such a reaction. She took a slow breath, savoring the tension between them before she spoke again.

"Sylus," she finally said, her voice soft but heavy with meaning. “Y'know...leader of Onychinus? Supposed ruler of this godforsaken place."

Xavier’s heart sank, his mind whirling with the name. Sylus. The moment she said it, everything clicked into place, the puzzle pieces falling together in his mind. It was a name that echoed across every shadowy corner of the city, whispered in fear by those who lived in the Zone and outside of it. Sylus was not just a criminal; he was a tyrant, a leader of a notorious syndicate that controlled much of the N109 Zone through fear, violence, and manipulation.

He remembered the briefings from work, detailing illegal protocore trafficking, unsolved murders, and corruption on a scale most people couldn’t even fathom. Sylus’s name had come up more than once, but he had always remained just out of reach—never enough evidence to bring him down, always too elusive for law enforcement to catch. And now...S. It had been in front of him all along.

Sylus.

Of course. The man who had taken you, the man who had orchestrated this entire nightmare, was none other than the most dangerous figure in the N109 Zone. But what did someone like him want with you?

Xavier’s breath came in short, sharp bursts as his mind raced. His sword shook slightly in his grip, the feather in his hand slipping to the ground as the weight of the realization hit him. Sylus had you. The leader of Onychinus, a man feared by all, had somehow claimed you, and now, everything made sense. The secrecy, the power, the violence—all of it pointed back to him.

The woman watched him carefully, a knowing glint in her eye as she saw the shift in his expression. "You see now, don’t you?" she murmured. "Reese didn’t stand a chance. Neither did she." Her voice took on a mocking tone as she spoke of you, as if your fate was already sealed.

Xavier’s anger flared. He had to find you—now. There was no more time for games or hesitation. Sylus had to be stopped, and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way. Not anymore.

Xavier's grip on the sword tightened as he glared down at the woman. He wasn’t going to leave any loose ends this time. "You’re coming with me," he said, voice hard and unyielding. "You’re being booked in Linkon City Penitentiary. You're clearly not innocent in all this."

The woman’s expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in her eyes—a flicker of something cold and calculating. She nodded slowly, seeming to comply, raising her hands slightly as if in surrender. Xavier lowered his sword, but kept it ready. He wasn’t taking any chances.

But before he could react, she reached up as though to fix her disheveled hair and, in one smooth motion, pulled a small pin from the messy strands. Her eyes flashed with intent as she flicked the pin to the floor.

It exploded in a quick burst of hissing gas.

Xavier barely had time to react before the room filled with a thick, stinging cloud. His throat seized, the acrid taste of the gas flooding his lungs as he coughed violently. His eyes burned, watering immediately as the toxic smoke enveloped him, blinding him completely. He tried to swing his sword, but his body betrayed him, each breath tearing through his chest like fire.

"Dammit..." Xavier choked, squeezing his eyes shut against the pervasive sting. The sound of hurried footsteps filled the room as the woman scrambled up the stairs in a desperate attempt to escape. He heard the hatch slam above him, the faint echoes of her retreating footsteps quickly disappearing into the night.

For a moment, Xavier stood hunched over, gasping for air, clutching his throat as he struggled to breathe. His muscles tensed, his mind reeling in frustration. I should chase her. I can’t let her get away.

But as the gas slowly began to dissipate, something in the corner of the basement caught his attention. Through the blurry haze of his vision, a small red light blinked steadily—tiny but unmistakable.

A camera.

Xavier froze, his mind racing as he staggered toward it, wiping his eyes to get a clearer look. The camera was mounted discreetly in the far corner of the room, aimed directly at the center of the basement floor—right where the mangled body of Reese lay. Its lens was still pointed at the grisly scene, and the red dot blinked steadily, as though it had been recording everything.

Xavier’s heart pounded as the implications hit him. Someone had been watching. Or at least recording. Someone had seen everything that had gone down in this basement—maybe even Sylus himself.

His first instinct was to smash it, to destroy the evidence, but another thought stopped him. This could be a lead. This might show me where they took her, or at the very least, give me more information about Sylus.

Xavier cursed under his breath, torn between the urge to chase the woman and the importance of the discovery before him. The camera could be the key to tracking down Sylus, but every second the woman stayed free, she became a greater threat. He weighed his options, his mind spinning with indecision.

But deep down, he knew the answer. He needed to know what was on that camera—no matter the cost. He wasn’t going to let this slip through his fingers.

Swallowing the bitter taste of frustration, Xavier moved toward the camera, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for it. He was going to find out what it had seen, and he was going to use it to track down Sylus and, more importantly, you.

Xavier’s fingers worked quickly, his heart pounding as he pried the small camera from its mount. His breath was still shallow from the lingering effects of the gas, but his focus was razor-sharp now. This camera—it had seen everything. It had captured the truth, maybe even the moment Reese had been killed, and possibly more.

He carefully ejected the tiny SIM card from the device, holding it in the palm of his hand. The small piece of plastic and metal was unassuming, almost fragile. But Xavier knew, in that moment, this was the key. This little card held answers—answers he had been chasing for days, through exhaustion, violence, and fear.

His hand closed around it, gripping it tightly, as if holding onto it was the only thing keeping him grounded. This was his way forward. The evidence, the proof—everything that could lead him to you and get you away from Sylus before he did something unthinkable to you.

"This…" he whispered, his voice low, filled with desperation. "This is it."

The weight of the situation pressed down on him, his mind spinning with possibilities. Maybe this small window of opportunity was all Xavier needed? Was this the answer?

His pulse quickened as the gravity of the moment sank in. He couldn’t waste any more time.

Clutching the SIM card, Xavier shoved it into his jacket pocket, securing it tightly. He glanced around the basement one last time, the gruesome scene of Reese’s body still etched into his mind, but the camera—the blinking red dot—was all he could focus on. Whoever had set this up knew more than they let on, and now he was one step closer to pulling it all apart.

He turned toward the stairs, every step a mixture of relief and dread. He had a lead, but he was running out of time. Sylus was out there, and so were you, caught in his web. Xavier’s mind was racing as he ascended the stairs and stepped out into the cold night air.

This SIM card, small and fragile as it was, was his best chance of finding you. He wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers.

The sound of water echoed softly in the small, dimly lit bathroom as you stood under the spray, the warmth of it doing little to ease the cold that had settled deep within you. You stared down at the tiled floor, watching the water pool around your feet, washing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. Crying in the shower had become routine these past few days. The chain around your ankle clinked softly with every movement, its weight a constant reminder of the new reality you were trapped in.

Your fingers trembled as they moved through your wet hair, but you weren’t really here—not in this moment, not in this place. You were somewhere far away, in a life that felt impossibly distant now. A life where you were free, where you hadn’t been taken by Sylus, where your every step wasn’t shadowed by the cold bite of metal shackles.

You glanced down at the chain, watching as the water dripped from it, snaking down your leg in streams. No matter how much you tried to ignore it, the reality of your situation hit you over and over again. There was no escaping this. Sylus had made sure of that. He had bound you, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally—leaving no room for hope.

A shiver ran through you, though the water was still warm. You hugged your arms around yourself, trying to take some comfort in the heat, but all you could feel was the weight of the chain. It clinked with every shift of your body, its length enough to reach the shower, the toilet, the bed—everything within your small prison. Your world has shrunk to this, you thought bitterly, tracing the line of the chain with your eyes.

You had once thought of yourself as strong, capable. But now, standing here in this tiny, confining space, tethered to the will of a man who saw you as his lover, you felt anything but strong. Your mind wandered back to his words, the promise he had whispered in your ear before nestling next to you:

“Accept your place by my side, and have my baby.”

A sob choked your throat as the words echoed in your mind. The idea of being bound to him not just by the chain, but by a child—a piece of him inside you—made you feel like you were drowning. The water ran over your body, but it couldn’t wash away the fear or the disgust that festered inside of you. You had once given yourself to him willingly, drawn in by the promise of comfort, lust, the flowery words he spun so effortlessly. But now, you were reminded you were his prisoner.

You hated him. You hated yourself. The shame was like a living thing inside of you, coiling tighter with every second, every memory of the choices that had led you here. How had you fallen so far? How had you let yourself seek comfort from him, even for a moment?

But now, even as you stood here, shackled and trapped, there was something else—something you couldn’t shake. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A dark, twisted longing. A part of you, deep down, that still ached for something. Maybe it was safety, or maybe it was the comfort you had once felt in his presence just for awhile, before you were reminded who he really was. Whatever it was, it disgusted you, and you shoved it down again, refusing to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to.

The chain clinked again as you turned the water off, the sound grating in the quiet. You stepped out of the shower, your legs unsteady as you moved. The air felt colder now, biting at your wet skin as you wrapped a towel around yourself. The chain dragged along behind you as you moved to the mirror, fogged and hazy, much like your own mind. You wiped a small section clear with your hand and stared at your reflection.

The person staring back at you looked hollow, broken. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, your cheeks tear stained, your lips trembling as you tried to keep yourself together. You didn’t recognize this version of yourself—this fragile, scared girl bound by chains and trapped by the whims of a monster.

Your fingers brushed the cold metal around your ankle again, and you swallowed hard. You had to keep going, somehow. Even if escape felt impossible, even if every part of you screamed to give up, you couldn’t. Not yet. Not while there was still a flicker of hope, buried deep beneath the fear and despair.

You dressed slowly, your hands moving mechanically as you slipped on the dress Sylus had left for you. Sylus had specifically avoided giving you underwear, as it made it easier to touch you as he put it. The feel of fabric felt like a weight, dragging you down further into this nightmare, but you couldn’t stall forever. The chain around your ankle reminded you of that. Every movement was a struggle, a tug of war between your mind and body. You didn’t want to face him. Not again.

But eventually, there was no more time to waste. The tension in your chest tightened as you stepped out of the bathroom, the clinking of the chain the only sound in the quiet room.

Sylus was waiting for you, sitting casually in a chair near the window, a pair of sleek glasses perched on his nose as he scanned something on the tablet in his hands. He looked up when you entered, his eyes immediately locking onto you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. That same, infuriatingly confident smirk that sent a surge of loathing through you.

He lowered the tablet slightly, tilting his head as he took you in. “There you are,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You look beautiful, kitten.”

The compliment felt like a slap in the face, but you didn’t respond. You refused to. You clenched your jaw and stared straight ahead, keeping your distance, trying to make yourself feel as far away from him as possible despite the small confines of the room.

The silent treatment was all you had left, your last shred of defiance. You knew it probably wouldn’t faze him, but you couldn’t bear to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not after everything.

Sylus chuckled softly, clearly unfazed. In fact, your silence only seemed to amuse him. His smirk widened, his dark eyes gleaming with a playful, dangerous edge as he set the tablet down on the table beside him. He leaned back in the chair, his gaze never leaving yours, as though he was watching a game unfold exactly the way he wanted.

“Sweetie,” he purred, his voice low and teasing. “Have you decided to be mute today?” His eyes sparkled with that familiar arrogance, like he was enjoying every moment of your discomfort.

"Don't pretend you didn't hear me."

When you still didn't respond, he motioned to his lap, a casual flick of his fingers. “Come sit. Let’s not play this game all day.”

You stiffened, your heart pounding as you kept your eyes fixed on the floor. The thought of sitting on his lap, of being that close to him, made your stomach churn. But when had he ever cared about what you wanted? He was toying with you, seeing how long you would resist before you finally broke.

With your heart pounding in your chest and every muscle in your body screaming in protest, you moved slowly toward him. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the weight of the chain around your ankle had spread to every fiber of your being. You hated this. You hated him. But you also knew resisting further would only prolong the inevitable. The game he was playing wasn’t one you could win, not today.

As you approached, Sylus’s smirk deepened, his eyes lighting up with that infuriating confidence. He leaned back slightly, arms resting casually on the armrests of his chair, as though inviting you into his space with nothing more than the subtle tilt of his body.

Reluctantly, you lowered yourself onto his lap, your body stiff and unwilling, every part of you recoiling even as you complied. The moment you settled, his arms came around you, enveloping you with a possessive ease, as though this was where you belonged. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, a stark contrast to the cold reality of the chain that still bound you. You tried to sit as far from his groin as possible, but his grip tightened, pulling you closer, forcing you into his embrace.

Sylus’s smirk deepened, sensing your hesitation. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “What’s the matter? You’re usually so talkative,” he teased, his fingers brushing against his jaw as he watched you intently. “Or is this your new way of getting my attention? Hmm?”

He was baiting you, and you knew it. Every word out of his mouth was designed to make you react, to break through the wall of silence you were so desperately trying to maintain. He thrived on your defiance, and the more you pulled away, the more determined he became.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you fought back the urge to lash out. Stay silent, you told yourself. Don’t give him what he wants.

But the room felt smaller with every second, the tension between you building with no escape. You kept your eyes fixed on a point across the room, refusing to look at him, to acknowledge the smugness in his gaze. But as much as you tried to focus on anything other than him, you couldn’t ignore the scent that clung to him. It was subtle, warm, and undeniably intoxicating—a mix of something clean and rich, like cedar and spice. It filled your senses, making your head swim for a moment before you forced yourself to snap back to reality.

“Let’s see…” he murmured, pretending to ponder, as if this were some casual decision for him to make. His fingers traced the nape of your neck, their touch light but chilling, sending jolts of dread through you. His hand moved with a practiced, deliberate care, as though every inch of your body was territory he owned.

"Which one of these spots," he whispered, his voice taking on a dark, playful edge, "will make this kitten mewl?"

Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body on high alert, and yet you willed yourself to stay silent, to remain still despite the overwhelming sensation of his touch. The way he said it—kitten—the pet name twisted into something playful, like he was subtly teasing a stubborn cat.

Sylus's lips brushed against your neck, soft and deliberate, sending another shiver through you that you couldn’t quite suppress. You hated the way your body reacted, even though it wasn’t out of desire, but out of an instinctive fear that coursed through your veins. His mouth lingered, warm and maddeningly slow, as if savoring the moment. You could feel his smirk growing with each kiss, knowing he was testing you, pushing to see where your defenses would crumble.

He trailed his lips down the curve of your neck, pressing soft kisses into your skin, searching. His breath was hot against your flesh, each exhale making your heart race, and your hands clenched tighter in your lap, nails digging deep into your palms. Sylus moved with such infuriating patience, his kisses slow and calculated, as though he were mapping out your every vulnerability.

“Here?,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing. His lips hovered at the hollow of your throat, sending a jolt of fear through you. "Or maybe here?"

You fought to hold back the instinctive shudder that threatened to betray you, forcing yourself to stay still, to remain silent. But Sylus was relentless, his lips finding the most delicate parts of your neck, his hands lightly brushing your back as he pulled you closer into his embrace. The warmth of him was suffocating, his scent overwhelming your senses as you tried desperately to keep your thoughts from spiraling.

He pressed a kiss in the nape of your neck, lingering for a moment as though testing the spot. You shiver, letting out a small whine at the ticklish sensation as it scattered through your body, your stomach tightening. You could feel his satisfaction in the way he shifted, his lips curving slightly against your skin. His fingers brushed through your hair, his touch deceptively gentle as he whispered, “There it is.”

You try and get out of his lap but his hold on you is firm and tight, per usual. Heat crosses your face and you feel as though the room just got ten degrees hotter.

"Don't be shy, purr for me" he commands gently, beginning to press more gentle kisses in the same sensitive spot. You tense and whine with each kiss, jolts of pleasure tingling through your body, and eventually your core heats up, a wave of shame crashing over you.

His lips trailed lower, teeth grazing your shoulder blade as he continued his sensual assault. Each nip and lick sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins, pooling heat low in your belly. You squirmed in his lap, torn between the urge to flee from the overwhelming sensations and the traitorous desire to arch into his touch.

"Please…" you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. Mercy or more, you couldn't tell. Your mind was hazy, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Please what, kitten?" His hand slid under your shirt, fingertips skimming the curve of your breast before dipping lower, teasing along the waistband of your pants. You shuddered, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste flooded your mouth but you barely noticed, too focused on the ache building between your thighs. You felt the sudden hardening of his groin, causing you to gasp.

"Stop," you gasped out, twisting in his grip. "Please, I can't take anymore." Your voice was ragged, barely above a whisper. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, born of overwhelming sensation and a confusing mix of fear and longing. You were scared. Scared to let him in again. To let lust control you and lose yourself to him.

"I'll talk to you Sylus, just stop..." you whine.

For a moment, he didn't move, his hands still roaming your body with maddening slowness, likely deciding if he was going to concede. Then, with a soft chuckle, he released you and leaned back. "Very well," he murmured, his tone unreadable.

"We'll continue this another time."

You scrambled off his lap, nearly tripping in your desperate attempt to put distance between yourself and the man whose touch felt like poison. Your legs trembled beneath you, weak from the fear and the unbearable tension that had filled the room. One hand flew to your neck, instinctively covering the places his lips had touched, while the other pressed to your flushed cheek. Your breath came in shallow bursts as you backed away, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

You knew what you’d see if you did. Amusement—at your weakness, at how easily he could unravel you with nothing more than a few soft kisses. Or maybe frustration that you had interrupted his game by pulling away. And worse yet, a possibility you couldn’t even stomach: genuine affection, a twisted form of care that he believed he had for you.

But when you finally glanced at him, all you saw was a small, knowing smile.

Sylus sat there, relaxed, his fingers tapping lightly on his tablet as he readjusted his glasses. It was as if the entire exchange had been nothing but a passing moment of amusement for him, something routine to him.

Just like that, the little game was over.

He had won.

But the worst part wasn’t his victory. It was the way your body still trembled, the way your skin still burned from where his lips had been. The way you felt so utterly powerless against him.

You turned your back to him, heart heavy with shame, knowing that no matter how much distance you put between you, Sylus had already made his point. He controlled the game. And as much as you hated it, as much as it made your chest tighten in anger and despair—you couldn’t deny that this time, he had broken through your defenses.

He always did.

You stood there, shaking with a volatile mix of anger and shame, your back to Sylus as you tried to steady your breathing. The feeling of his touch still clung to your skin, like a sickening residue that wouldn’t wash away. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms, as if the physical pain might be enough to distract from the storm raging inside of you.

Just as your thoughts began to spiral, the sharp sound of a knock echoed through the room. You flinched, startled, your heart pounding in your chest. Sylus didn’t react to you, didn’t even look your way. He simply set his tablet down, a small sigh escaping his lips as if the knock had interrupted something far less important than whatever little game he had been playing with you moments before.

He stood up and crossed the room with an easy, unbothered grace, leaving you feeling like a ghost in the background, insignificant in his world. When he reached the door, he opened it just a crack, his tall frame blocking your view of whoever was on the other side.

“Luke,” Sylus greeted, his voice carrying a tone of mild interest. “What is it?”

Luke’s voice, muffled by the door but unmistakably familiar, spoke up. "Kovi's asking to "play cards" again. "Says he misses his dear friend. Told me to let you know"

You saw Sylus tilt his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. A small chuckle escaped him as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. "Ah, Kovi," he mused, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. "Always eager to strike a deal, I see"

Your heart sank at the casual nature of their conversation. It was like the cruel game Sylus had just played with you didn’t even matter, as though it were just another fleeting moment in his day. You felt a sharp pang in your chest, anger bubbling up again at how easily he could move on while you were left reeling.

“Tell Kovi I'll join him shortly,” Sylus said, still grinning. “I could use a game or two”.

"You got it, boss man!"

With that, Luke disappeared down the hall, and Sylus closed the door, his expression shifting back to its usual controlled calm. He turned toward you, that same smugness still lingering in his eyes as though nothing had changed.

As Sylus crossed the room, your heart lurched with unease. His entire demeanor had been so casual, so indifferent just moments before as he spoke with Luke about Kovi. You’d almost convinced yourself he was done with his game, ready to move on to the next part of his twisted day. But now, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you freeze.

He stopped right in front of you, his gaze lingering for a moment, dark and unreadable. Before you could process what was happening, his hands gently cupped your face, pulling you toward him. His lips pressed against yours, soft at first, but then with a passion that made your heart pound in confusion.

This wasn’t like the teasing, mocking kisses from earlier. This kiss had weight, as if he were pouring something unspoken into it—something deeper, something more dangerous. The way he kissed you wasn’t calculated, wasn’t part of the game he always played. It felt… real.

Your mind raced, unable to comprehend the shift in him. Moments ago, he had been cool, detached, amused by your silence and defiance. But now, his lips moved against yours with an urgency, a need that you didn’t understand. It was like this was the last time he would ever see you—like this kiss was a goodbye, even though you knew you were still trapped in his world.

You didn’t kiss him back, but you also didn’t pull away. You were frozen in place, your body betraying your instincts as the conflicting emotions tangled inside you. Fear. Anger. And now, confusion.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes remained locked on yours, a lingering intensity in them that unsettled you even more. His thumb brushed softly across your cheek, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like there was something else there—something almost vulnerable. But it was gone before you could grasp it.

"You've got more power than you think, kitten" he murmured, his voice softer than usual, almost affectionate. But there was an edge to it, something unreadable lurking just beneath the surface. “Don’t forget that.”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond. His words hung heavy in the air, making your pulse quicken with a mixture of fear and confusion. You couldn’t tell if he was complimenting you, warning you, or trying to manipulate you further. The shift in his demeanor left you off balance, unsure of what game he was playing this time.

Power? The word seemed like a cruel joke given how powerless you felt in this moment—shackled to the chain, trapped under his control, constantly fighting to keep your head above water while he pulled the strings. Yet, there was a strange certainty in the way he said it, as though he believed it more than you ever could. As though he knew something you didn’t.

Your breath hitched, the weight of his gaze almost unbearable. His hand lingered for a second longer on your cheek, and despite the fear that still gripped you, you couldn’t help but feel the tension, the push and pull between his control and whatever it was he saw in you.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, not in that moment. Not with the confusion clouding your thoughts, your emotions already tangled in knots from everything that had happened. You searched his face, hoping to find some clarity, but all you saw was that same unreadable expression, his eyes watching you closely, waiting.

And then, as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. Sylus let his hand drop, his smirk returning, the walls coming back up around him.

"Behave," he added with a grin, before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you standing there, shaken and confused.

His words lingered long after he was gone, leaving you to wonder—what had he meant?

You spent the hours after Sylus left in a haze of frustration and boredom, your mind spiraling as you tried to find something—anything—to distract yourself. The chain around your ankle clinked softly with every movement, a constant reminder of your confinement. There wasn’t much to do, and the walls of the room felt like they were closing in, making the silence unbearable.

You found yourself counting the links of the chain, running your fingers over the cold metal again and again, trying to memorize the texture, the length. Rolling around on the hard floor, feeling the chill seep into your skin, you tried to stave off the madness creeping into your thoughts. The same four walls, the same chain, the same agonizing routine.

A knock on the door broke the monotony, pulling you from your thoughts.

Sylus?? Wait no. He wouldn't knock on his own door.

The chef—another of Sylus’s loyal employees—slid your dinner through the small opening in the door, the one Sylus had installed specifically for you. No more shared meals in the living room, no more pretending you were anything but his prisoner. Now, even meals came through a slit in the door, like you were a caged animal.

You stared at the plate, untouched for longer than you’d care to admit. Eventually, you ate without tasting, simply going through the motions. The room felt colder than usual, the silence more oppressive.

After what felt like an eternity, your body finally gave in to exhaustion. You curled up on the bed, feeling the weight of your situation pressing down on you like a physical burden. Sleep came slowly, and when it did, it was fitful, filled with shadows and the echo of Sylus’s words: “You’ve got more power than you think.”

You woke to the sound of the door unlocking.

Your body stirred slowly, still groggy from sleep, and for a moment, you weren’t sure where you were. But the clink of the chain brought you back to reality in an instant. You opened your eyes slightly, blinking as the dim light of the room settled into your vision, and there he was—Sylus.

He stepped inside, the door closing softly behind him. He was loosening his tie, the fabric slipping through his fingers in an almost absentminded way. His usually sharp and controlled appearance seemed…off. His movements weren’t as fluid, his steps a little less precise. He tilted his head slightly, catching himself on the back of a chair with a small, humorless chuckle.

You froze, watching him closely. Something was different. He didn’t have the same air of calm authority he usually wore like armor. His hair was slightly mussed, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. You studied him for a moment, heart pounding as the realization hit you.

Is he drunk?

Sylus turned his head toward you, a slow, almost lazy grin creeping across his face. His eyes, usually sharp and piercing, were glazed over, a softness in them that you’d never seen before.

“Kitten,” he murmured, his voice lower, rougher than usual. “Are you awake?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced your body to remain still, your breathing steady as if you were still deep in sleep. You couldn’t face him right now, not like this—not when he was drunk and unpredictable. Your eyes shut closed, and you tried to control the rising panic swelling inside you.

A soft chuckle escaped him, dripping with amusement, and you felt his presence closer, the faint warmth of his body invading the space around you. "You can’t fool me," he murmured, his breath ghosting against your skin. "I know what your breathing sounds like when you're sleeping sweetie."

The words sank into your mind like a sharp, twisting knife. He wasn’t wrong—Sylus had studied you, watched you so carefully that even something as intimate as your breathing while you slept wasn’t your own anymore. Your attempt at pretending was futile, and now, he was reveling in the fact that you couldn’t hide from him, not even for a moment.

You could feel his smirk without having to look. His fingers trailed lazily down your arm, drawing soft patterns on your skin, the touch deceptively gentle yet loaded with the dark weight of his control.

“I’ve spent so much time with you,” he continued, his tone almost affectionate, unnervingly gentle. “I know every little thing about you—every sigh, every breath, every flutter of those pretty little eyelids.”

Your breath hitched despite your best efforts to stay calm, and you cursed yourself for it. The small tremor in your body, the way your pulse quickened—he noticed it all. You could feel his satisfaction radiating from him, the knowledge of every part of you obvious.

Sylus leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dripping with dark affection. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he murmured. "Even when I’m surrounded by people, all I want is you, kitten. You’ve been on my mind all night. You're gonna get me killed being such a pretty distraction."

The knot in your chest tightened as you lay there, your body rigid beneath his touch. You wanted to push him away, to scream, to do anything that would break this hold he had over you. But even in his drunken state, he held all the power, and he knew it.

“Look at me sweetie,” Sylus murmured, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Let me see you."

His fingers moved to your hair, brushing it aside as his breath warmed the side of your face. You swallowed hard, knowing you had no choice but to acknowledge him now. Slowly, reluctantly, you opened your eyes, the room spinning slightly as his face came into view—so close, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement and...affection?"

“There she is,” he whispered, his voice laced with satisfaction. “My pretty little hunter."

Your heart pounded against your ribcage as his words sank into you, wrapping around your chest like a vice. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, gleaming with an unsettling mix of affection and control, as though you were something precious to him— like you were the only light in his dark world.

His fingers tangled in your hair, brushing it away from your face as he tilted his head slightly, studying you with that dangerous intensity. “You know, kitten,” he murmured, voice low and intimate, “when you called my name in that basement, I damn near went crazy. It keeps replaying over and over in my head."

"I wish I could bring Reese back to life. Just so I could kill him slower this time."

His lips were close to your ear again, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine despite the panic flooding your system. You tried to focus on anything but the feeling of him—his scent, his touch, the way his words dripped with possessiveness—but it was impossible to escape. He consumed the space around you, his control inescapable, even when he was stumbling through his drunken haze.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Sylus whispered, his lips barely grazing your ear now, sending cold dread through you.

“You make me feel weak, kitten. I hate it.”

He paused, letting his words sink in, his fingers still caressing your skin. The affection in his voice was dark, twisted, a perverse reflection of something deeper—something dangerous.

“And yet,” he continued, his voice soft, almost wistful, “I love it. You're the only one who can do this to me”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to react, to push him away, but Sylus noticed everything. He always did. He leaned back slightly, his crimson eyes scanning your face as trying to read your reaction. His smirk returned, but there was something almost gentle in his gaze now—a softness that felt more like a trap than tenderness.

"I wish you hadn't ran. But it was the only way to teach you how safe you are here. And now I have to punish you, honey."

Your stomach dropped, fear twisting through your gut like a vice. The words hung in the air, suffocating, as if the room itself had shrunk around you. The threat in his voice was subtle, but unmistakable. He wanted you to know what was coming, wanted you to feel the weight of it before he even made a move.

Punishment.

The word echoed in your mind, and the way he said it—like it was something inevitable, something you’d earned—made you sick. You had done everything you could to escape him, to break free, but here you were, back in his grip, about to suffer for the one moment of defiance you’d dared to show.

Sylus’s fingers trailed down your neck, his touch slow and deliberate, making your heart race with every second that passed. "Don't be scared," he whispered, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You just need to learn how good you have it here"

You wanted to scream, to break free of his hold, but the fear kept you rooted in place, unable to move, unable to fight back. You could feel the pull of his control tightening around you, the chains of his manipulation wrapping tighter with every breath.

"I'm sorry Sylus..."you whimper, beginning to shake under his touch. "Don't hurt me...please don't hurt me. Please..."

The words came out fragile, breaking with every breath. You hated that you had to say them, hated how vulnerable and powerless you sounded, but you couldn’t stop. The fear, the desperation—they were stronger than your pride.

Sylus’s hand stilled against your skin, his crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable. For a brief moment, a smile tugged at his lips—not the smug, taunting smirk he usually wore, but something softer, more twisted.

He leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your face as he murmured, "Kitten... do you really think I'm going to hurt you?"

Sylus’s fingers moved swiftly, his touch almost gentle as he undid the lock on your ankle chain. It was locked with a number pad. One where the code changed every single time it was unlocked according to him. The cold metal slid away, leaving a raw sensation where it had dug into your skin. You glanced down, your breath caught in your throat as you watched him remove the shackle.

For a split second, there was a flicker of hope—was he letting you go? But that thought vanished as quickly as it had come. This wasn’t freedom. Sylus wasn’t offering you an escape. You knew better.

Confusion flashed across your features, fear giving way to puzzlement. You remained silent, watching intently as he moved away from you to sit on the sofa in the center of the room. With deft movements, he unfastened his belt, eyes locked onto yours the entire time. Finally shrugging off his pants, his rigid cock sprang free, standing at attention.

"Come here kitten, take your punishment" he commanded, patting his muscular thigh invitingly. Tentatively, you rose to your feet, not feeling like you had much choice. The sound of the ankle chain rattling in the room as you nearly tripped over it. Your heart pounded in your chest, a confusing mix of trepidation and strange anticipation swirling inside you. Stopping before him, you gazed down at his handsome face, searching his eyes for answers.

He was just going to have sex with you? How is this any different than the other times?

"Wha-what do-what is this?" you ask, gazing down at his erect member. You feel your throat go dry as you watch it throb, evidence Sylus's excitement already leaking from the tip. Sylus tugs on the hem of your nightgown, casually ignoring your question.

"Strip. You know how this goes."

You certainly did know how things went, but this did seem a little weird. Still, you followed orders and slowly but shakily stripped your clothes off. Sylus watched with hungry eyes, clenching his fists as if restraining himself from pouncing on you. Whatever, you would just dissociate like all the other times. Not much of a punishment that way.

"I must ask...why the couch?" you ask, taking the last part of your sock off.

"The couch is better for riding me don't you think?"

You freeze, praying to god you didn't just hear him say what you thought. He wants you to...ride him? You shoot your head up, eyeing his cock with more fear than ever. It was already a struggle getting it in when laying down how the hell were you supposed to...?

"It..it wont fit like that. Sylus...ple-"

"Sit, kitten. I'm not asking."

Shit. This was happening whether you wanted it to or not. You weren't sure what mind game he was playing this time but it would be best not to anger him. Taking a shaky breath, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you and Sylus until you stood before him, your trembling body bathed in the soft glow of the lamp light. His heated gaze raked over your curves, sending tingles racing across your sensitive skin.

Sylus reached out, fingers curling around your wrists as he tugged you closer. Wordlessly, he guided you onto his lap, large hands settling on your waist to anchor you in place. Immediately, you could feel the scorching heat of his erection pressing insistently against your plush backside.

"I'll hold you so you can balance" he rumbled, the deep timbre of his voice sending delicious vibrations through you. "The rest is up to you, sweetie."

You swallow thickly, your throat going dry again as you steady your hands on his broad shoulders. He lifts you with steady hands to balance you over his erection. Tears start to form in your eyes as you feel the beginning of his head begin to split your entrance to welcome him. Sylus let out a quiet groan, grip tightening on your waist but did not move as promised.

Your heart raced as you sank down further, thighs parting to straddle his muscular legs. Sylus's thick shaft nestled between your slick folds, the bulbous head nudging urgently into your entrance. A strangled whimper escaped your parted lips at the intimate contact.

It certainly didn’t help that Sylus hadn’t “prepared” you like he usually did but you figure this was part of the punishment.

You sucked in a sharp hiss through clenched teeth, your inner walls straining to accommodate his substantial girth. Inch by excruciating inch, you sank down onto his thick length, a sheen of sweat breaking out across your brow from the effort.

Burning pain radiated through your core as Sylus stretched you wider than ever before. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your thighs quivered with the strain of taking him so deep. But beneath the agony, a thrill of dark pleasure coiled hot and insistent in your belly.

"Shhh..." Sylus crooned, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back so he could capture your mouth in a searing kiss. "I know it hurts, you can handle it"

“Fuck,” you whimper, hands pressing against his chest, “you- you’re so big.” You certainly weren't trying to compliment him. This new angle just sent a whole wave of sensations pain and pleasure through our body. As much as you hated it, as much as you did not want to be sinking yourself onto him, as much as you loathed that he was making you take control, you couldn't deny the ache coiling in your belly.

“So you’ve said,” Sylus smiles, his hand squeezing your ass. "Keep going sweetie, you're almost there.”

By the time you reached the hilt, you were panting harshly, fingernails digging into Sylus's shoulders for support. Your abused passage fluttered and clenched around him, struggling to adjust to the overwhelming fullness. Sylus let out a guttural groan, hips bucking up slightly to bury himself even deeper. You hissed, shooting him a glare in pain.

"I'm sorry, you just felt too good honey" he smirks, voice slightly breathless as you clench and unclench around him. "My turn to behave this time."

You ignore his joke and focus on making him cum so you can get off of him. Biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, you started to rock your hips, rising and falling atop Sylus's thick length in a clumsy, unpracticed rhythm. Pain still lanced through your core with every movement but beneath it, a coil of building pleasure began to unfurl low in your belly.

"Fuck," Sylus groaned gruffly, gripping your bouncing breasts roughly, fingertips digging into the soft flesh. "I didn't think you could feel any better than you already did sweetie."

Blushing fiercely, you let out a choked moan, embarrassed by your own shameless motions. But Sylus's gravelly praise only spurred you on, hips undulating faster as you chased the rising tension threatening to consume you.

No. Don't lose to him again. Don't cum.

Sylus groans at the feeling of your skin slapping against his thighs with every bounce on his lap. The tip of his cock hits the sensitive spot deep inside of your cunt so deliciously that you’ve begun to drool, a choked moan escaping your mouth unwittingly.

The moan turns into a yelp when he spanks your ass, your body jolting forward. Sylus’s touches have grown rougher, his hands squeezing almost painfully at your flesh.

"I have to-hah-leave for awhile in a few days" Sylus groans, thoroughly enjoying the squeal you make when he grips your hips again.

"Tell me you'll miss me."

"I wont," you hiss, trying to drown out the sound of his voice with the sounds of your bodies slapping and sliding against each other.

Sylus growls and you feel like shrinking away when you see the glare on his face. He almost seems…desperate. Like he needs to hear you say it.

His hand shoots out, gripping your cheeks. You can feel your lips jut out into a pout and he’s leaning forward kissing you messily. You whine, forced to press yourself closer, tits squishing against his firm chest. Your hips slow and you find yourself fully sitting on his cock, gasping into his mouth at the feeling of being fully impaled, hard and fast.

"Is that so? Have you ever thought about the fact that we both of a piece of an Aether core inside us?" Sylus says, his words whispered against your lips.

"You..mgnh!...have one too?" you whispered, grabbing onto his shoulders to steady yourself against his throbbing member still sitting inside you. Sylus nods, seemingly enjoying the way you struggle against him. The tip of his cock was resting on a sensitive spot and you can feel the ache in your belly grow more and more as it kept pressing into it with each throb.

"Maybe...just maybe" he leans forward, breath hot against your ear. "We're two halves yet to be put together...even if your mind doesn't want me, your heart eventually will".

No. No, no, no. That would never happen.

"Never. That will never happen. All of me hates you. Soul included" you hiss, malice dripping from your voice despite the rising heat in your core. You jerk again as Sylus's member throbs, almost sending you over the edge. Shit, any longer and you would cum before him.

"I'm wounded, kitten" Sylus smirks, placing a kiss against your forehead. "Strangely enough, your body doesn't seem to hate me all that much."

You glare, almost ready to throw yourself off his lap at his words.

"You assh-"

You open your mouth to protest but he’s drowning your voice out with a kiss. He begins pounding up into you, sending electricity coursing through your body. He swallows every word that threatens to come out, his cock driving deeper and deeper until you’re crying out.

"Sylus!"

Gasping and mewling, you bucked wildly atop him, chasing the sweet oblivion that hovered just out of reach against your screaming mind. You didn't care anymore, the primal need to finish overclouding every ounce of sense. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, your velvety walls fluttering desperately around Sylus's pistoning length. You were so close, hovering on the knife's edge...

"Yes, yes! Harder!" you begged shamelessly, throwing your head back in abandon as Sylus pounded mercilessly into your sopping heat. The obscene wet sounds of your coupling filled the room, mixing with your cries of rapture.

"Much better..." Sylus whispers, slamming you harder onto his length, leaving your breathless and gasping for air. He's clearly near his own end, as his motions begins to falter and his hips buck into you. He could imagine it now…the ever growing curve of your belly, the swelling of your breasts, the way you’d carry the life he so desperately wanted to plant inside you.

"Fuck...I can't ever let you go..."

You sink your teeth into his shoulder, moaning. 

“That’s it,” he coos, and the drag of his cock is too hard to ignore, your walls clenching around him tightly as though not wanting to let him go.

“Just have my baby,” he whispers against your ear, slight desperation clawing at his voice. "Just get pregnant already, I can't lose you again."

His voice has you shuddering in your lust driven state, face pressing against his neck as you cum around him. Sylus grits his teeth, the squelch of your cunt growing louder as your slick drips down his length, coating his balls.

You collapse, exhaustion overcoming you and you lean against his shoulder, panting and whining from overstimulation in his ear.

Sylus doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so sweet. The shudder of your body, the softness of your voice. It has him groaning loudly, his hands pulling you down, making sure your pussy is flush against the base of his cock as he cums deep inside your belly.

You can feel the warmth of his cum, the way his sticky release covers the insides of your pussy. But you're too tired to fight it. So you sit there, trying to catch your breathe as you feel his warm liquids spreading across your belly and coating your cervix.

Again. He had won again.

You turn to bury your face in Sylus's shoulder, sobs wracking your trembling body as the emotional storm finally broke. Murmuring soothing words, he gently lifted you into his arms and carried you over to the bed.

With surprising tenderness, Sylus laid you down on the soft mattress, carefully extracting his spent member from your abused folds. You whimpered at the loss, a shudder rippling through you as you anticipated the familiar weight of chains once more.

But instead of restraining you, Sylus wiped himself clean with his discarded shirt before crawling in beside you. Tentatively, he pulled your quivering form into his embrace, strong arms cocooning you in his warmth.

"You did so well, kitten," he praised softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your damp temple. "I actually quite enjoy having you on top of me".

Sniffling, you peered up at him through tear-clumped lashes, noting the rosy flush coloring his cheeks. It was then you remembered his inebriated state, the alcohol likely responsible for his gentleness and vulnerability tonight.

"Have you been drinking?" you asked quietly, biting your lip with your teeth. "You seem...off?"

Sylus hummed noncommittally, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "Don't worry about me, sweetie. Right now, I just want to focus on you."

You lay beside him, the bed feeling far too small for the space that should exist between you. Sylus’s body was warm against yours, his arm draped loosely around your waist as if you belonged there, as if the chain had never existed. The alcohol had clearly dulled his usual sharpness, and now, he seemed content just to be near you, his breath steady, his tone softer than you’d ever heard it before.

For a while, there was silence, save for the faint sound of his breathing, but then he began to speak, his voice low and unguarded.

“My pretty little hunter,” he murmured, his words slightly slurred with the weight of exhaustion and liquor. His hand moved absentmindedly, brushing against your skin as he continued. “Just one glance at you and I needed to have you near me. I haven't acted the same since”.

You swallowed hard, your body tense as you listened to him, unsure whether to believe the tenderness in his words or to fear them. This wasn’t the Sylus you were used to—the one who controlled every moment, every breath, with calculated precision. This was someone else. Someone softer, someone…vulnerable.

His fingers trailed lightly down your arm, the touch making you shiver as his voice dropped even lower, almost as if he were confessing a secret. “I love you. I love you more than anything in this world. There is not a line I wouldn't cross for you”.

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Love? The same man who kept you chained, who toyed with you, who controlled you—loved you?

Your heart raced, confusion swirling through you. How were you supposed to feel? His words, though spoken with such gentleness, felt like a trap. Could he really mean such words?

You turned your head slightly, your voice barely a whisper as you asked, “If you love me, then let me go.”

Sylus stiffened slightly, his hold on you tightening, and you felt the shift in him even before he answered. His lips were close to your ear as he murmured, “I can’t do that, honey.”

A pang of despair shot through you, your heart sinking at the confirmation of what you already knew. He wouldn’t let you go. Not now, not ever.

“Then you don’t love me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your words.

For a moment, there was silence. You could feel his breath against your skin, warm and steady, but there was no response—no anger, no frustration. Just a low, quiet chuckle.

"So feisty," he whispered, his voice fading as his body relaxed against you. His grip loosened slightly, and within moments, you felt his breathing slow, deepening as he drifted into a drunken slumber.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your heart heavy with the weight of his words and the chains that still bound you—whether they were physical or not. Sylus had fallen asleep beside you, but you knew the nightmare was far from over.

You don’t know when you finally drifted off to sleep, but exhaustion had eventually won out, pulling you into a restless slumber beside Sylus. The warmth of his body, the weight of his arm draped over you, and the tangled mess of fear and confusion had blurred into a haze.

When you woke, the room was bathed in the soft light of the lamp on the nightstand and for a moment, you were disoriented—until you felt it. The absence of the chain.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You shifted slightly, peering down at your ankle, almost not daring to believe it. He forgot to chain you. The shackle that had become a part of your existence, a symbol of your captivity, wasn’t there. You swallowed hard, the realization sinking in further with each passing second.

But that wasn’t all. The door—the door to the bedroom—was open.

Your breath caught in your throat. Sylus had left it open, probably in his drunken state, and now you had a chance. A chance to escape.

Slowly, cautiously, you turned your head to look at him. He was still lying beside you, his breathing slow and steady, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. His face, usually so cold and unreadable, was softened in sleep, but you knew better than to trust it. He could wake at any moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the fear and hope warring inside you as you looked between him and the door. This was it. Your chance. But the danger still lingered. If he woke up before you reached the door… you didn’t want to think about what he would do.

You moved slowly, carefully slipping out from under his arm. Every inch of movement felt like a lifetime, each breath so shallow you were afraid even the smallest sound might wake him. Sylus’s arm slid off your waist, falling limp onto the mattress as you shifted out of his reach.

Your heart pounded as you sat up, holding your breath, waiting for any sign that he might stir. But the only sound was his steady breathing, deep and even. He was still asleep.

Your feet hit the cold floor, and a wave of adrenaline shot through you. You glanced back at him one last time, your heart racing as you studied his face—relaxed, but the usual sharpness of his features still there, even in slumber. The alcohol had clearly knocked him out, but you couldn’t be sure how deeply. Would he wake if you moved too fast?

Your eyes darted to the door. It was open—just a crack, but enough. Enough for you to slip through and make your escape.

You rose from the bed as silently as you could, your legs trembling slightly beneath you. You grabbed your discarded dress from the floor and quickly threw it over your head. One step. Then another. Your breath hitched as the floor creaked softly under your weight, but Sylus didn’t stir. Closer. You were so close. The door was right there, freedom within your grasp.

But just as you reached the threshold, just as you thought you might actually make it, a low voice pierced the silence.

"Going somewhere without me?"

Your blood froze in your veins. You turned your head slowly, dread creeping up your spine, and there he was—awake. Sylus’s crimson eyes gleamed in the dim light, his face unreadable but his voice heavy with cold amusement. His earlier softness had vanished, replaced with the icy, controlled demeanor you knew all too well.

He propped himself up on one elbow, watching you with a lazy, calculating gaze. "What were you planning, kitten?" he asked, his voice smooth but dangerous. "You failed, just as I expected."

Your throat tightened, words catching in your mouth as your pulse quickened. His calm, composed manner sent a fresh wave of terror through you. He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t even angry—just disappointed, and somehow, that was worse. His voice carried a weight that made it clear he had complete control, even now.

This was...a test?

Sylus rose from the bed with fluid, deliberate movements, each step toward you unnervingly calm. His eyes never left yours, and that cold smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he approached. "You didn’t really think you could get away, did you?"

Sylus’s fingers wrapped around your arm, his grip firm but not painful—yet. He held you there for a moment, letting the tension build, his eyes locked onto yours with a cold, dangerous gleam. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly bent down and picked up the ankle chain from the floor, his movements deliberate and precise.

The clink of the metal sent a shiver of dread through you, and your body stiffened as you realized what was coming next. You swallowed hard, but it did nothing to ease the rising panic in your chest. Sylus straightened, holding the chain in his hands, his jaw clenched tight, though his expression remained eerily calm.

“I can't say I'm surprised,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with quiet anger now. He knelt down, wrapping the cold metal clasp around your ankle with a precision that felt almost practiced, almost routine. The clasp locked into place with a sharp click, then the other lock, and the sensation of it once again digging into your skin made your stomach twist.

“You should know better than anyone that I don't make such silly mistakes,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable edge. “And here I thought we were making a little progress...” His fingers brushed against your ankle briefly before he stood up, towering over you once more, the chain now a familiar weight keeping you tethered.

There was no mockery in his tone now—just simmering frustration, barely contained. His earlier drunken haze had worn off enough for him to regain some of his cold composure, but the fact that you had tried to escape had clearly struck a nerve.

Sylus let out a slow breath, his gaze dark and unwavering. “You know I can’t let this slide,” he murmured, his voice quiet but heavy with a dangerous calm. “I’m disappointed, sweetie.”

The chain clinked softly as you shifted, your throat tightening as his words settled over you like a suffocating weight. You had no more energy to fight, no more defiance to offer—not when his control had wrapped itself so tightly around you, leaving no room to breathe.

Sylus had dragged you back to the bed that night, his grip firm but his usual taunts absent. There was no smirk, no teasing remark—just cold, unsettling silence. He had pulled the chain around your ankle tight once more, making sure you were secure without a word. And then, without so much as a glance, he had moved across the room to sit at his desk, typing away at his laptop, shutting you out completely.

The sting of his indifference lingered long after you’d laid down, staring at the ceiling in the dark, the weight of the chain around your ankle heavier than ever.

Days passed after that, and Sylus’s behavior only grew colder. He still woke up next to you, still kept you bound to his room, but something had changed. There was no warmth in his voice anymore, no possessive affection in his touch. His "good mornings" were flat, hollow, as though he was simply going through the motions. He didn’t even eat breakfast or dinner with you anymore. Instead, he would quietly leave the food for you and return to his laptop or disappear for hours at a time, leaving you alone.

He wasn't even asking you to strip. No teasingly touching your body while undressing you either. No mentions of wanting to have sex at all.

The cold indifference felt like a punishment, but not in the way you had grown used to. There was no anger, no violence—just distance. A distance that hurt more than you thought it could. For all the cruelty, all the manipulation, there had always been a twisted attention, a presence. But now, even that was gone.

You felt more isolated than ever. And he had mentioned leaving for awhile soon, which meant it would only get worse.

It was another of those nights. Sylus had been silent all evening, barely acknowledging you. He sat on his sofa, typing away on his laptop, the glow of the screen casting harsh shadows on his face. You watched him from the bed, the tension growing unbearable.

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of his sudden shift. Was this just another game? A new way to break you? You couldn’t understand it, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

"Sylus," you called softly, hoping to get his attention. But he didn’t respond, his fingers moving methodically over the keys, as if he hadn’t heard you at all.

Frustration welled up inside you, but it was more than just frustration—it was a sense of fear, of rejection, something you couldn’t quite put into words. You hated how much it affected you, but the silence, the distance...it hurt?

"Sylus, I can’t sleep," you said, your voice small, almost hesitant.

He paused, his fingers stilling for a moment. You held your breath, waiting for him to turn to you, to respond the way he used to, with that twisted mixture of affection and dominance that had somehow become your world.

"Oh, now you want me?" you hoped he would respond, that stupid grin adorning his face.

But instead, he looked up briefly, his gaze cold and detached. "Count sheep," he said flatly, the words devoid of any emotion or warmth. Then, without another glance, he returned to his work.

The coldness of his reply hit you harder than you expected. It wasn’t just the dismissal—it was the way he said it, as though you didn’t matter at all. He didn’t even look at you for more than a second before his attention shifted back to the glowing screen in front of him.

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut, the sudden emptiness in his words leaving a hollow ache in your chest. For all his cruelty, for all the ways he had manipulated and controlled you, there had always been something in his eyes when he looked at you—a possessive intensity, a twisted form of attention. Now, there was nothing. Just cold indifference.

You lay back down on the bed, your heart heavy, the weight of the chain pulling you deeper into the suffocating silence. You stared at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling of abandonment that settled over you. The ache in your chest refused to go away, and despite everything, you found yourself missing the twisted affection he used to show.

Even that, you realized, had been a kind of comfort.

But now.. now, you weren’t even sure if you mattered to him at all.

[loojii]

Okay so I don't comment or do ask much with ur account (I do like a lot of ur post though , but i feel a bit shy to do asks), But i wanted to start by saying that. As a huge TWST fan, seeing that you also have at least one OCs and do fanart of this universe makes me so genuinely happy lmao. It's a bit ridiculous ig but like, your art inspire me so much? I love your characters and your artstyle and so like, idk it makes me feel happy that u also enjoy TWST! Anyway, what i actually wanted to say mostly was that i really like Yinna, she's cute! also do you mind sharing your other TWST OCs??? if you have any others! I would love to see them i'm curious

Thank you so much!! I've been playing TWST for almost three years now with a friend, and am still enjoying it haha! I love the characters :) Your words mean a lot really!!

Most of the characters I made for twst are more "what ifs" I disgussed with my friend, and I don't take them too seriously- but drawing them is very enjoyable so I am good with looking cringe haha

I will draw them properly at one point (if people like to see) but behind the scenes these are some I made

Not that interesting but next to the ones shown above and Yina I do want to draw the girl with the star sweater again someday, who is meant to be Ace gf he ghosted after two weeks

[magentagalaxies]

last full day at home before mouth congress!!!!!!

[thef1diary]

Baby Jr | Six

— Truth Unveiled

series masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

The morning after your heartfelt conversation with Ava dawned, bringing with it a new wave of anxiety. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your mind racing with thoughts of how to tell Carlos about the pregnancy. Ava's reassuring words played on a loop in your head, offering some comfort amidst the chaos.

As you entered the paddock on race day, the buzz of activity and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. The sun was shining brightly, casting long shadows over the bustling scene. You walked briskly, your heart pounding with each step, knowing that Carlos would be occupied with media duties, the actual race, and the post-race debriefing with the team. Usually, you weren’t part of the post-race debrief, but today was different. More team members had been asked to join, emphasizing that every sort of role counted, media included.

You immersed yourself in your tasks, trying to keep a low profile. The garage was a hive of activity, with engineers and mechanics making last-minute adjustments to the car. You focused on your work, the familiar routine helping to calm your nerves. However, the thought of facing Carlos again later loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You exchanged glances with Ava several times throughout the day. Even though neither of you had the chance to stop and chat, her eyes constantly sought yours, silently checking in on you. Each time you caught her gaze, she offered a small, reassuring smile or a slight nod, her way of silently asking if you were holding up okay. It was a subtle but comforting gesture, a reminder that she was there for you, ready to lend her support whenever you needed it. These moments of connection, though brief, helped ground you amid the chaos of the day, giving you a small sense of stability and reassurance.

As the clock ticked closer towards the start of the race, the tension in the paddock heightened. Murmurs were heard in passing as each team solely focused on their two race cars, ensuring that every single part was in place and running smoothly.

You took your usual spot in the garage, watching the race unfold with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The roar of the engines filled the air, mingling with the cheers of the crowd. The sun beat down on the track, casting shimmering heat waves that made everything appear slightly surreal. You kept a close eye on the monitors, tracking every lap, every turn, every pit stop with bated breath. Wearing a pair of headphones, you were able to switch between both driver’s radio chatter, listening in to everything that was being said.

“Box, box, box!” the race engineer's voice crackled through your headphones, signaling one of the drivers to pit.

Working in motorsports, every day was like a new adventure, but nothing could ever top the feeling of race day. You truly felt like a proper spectator of the sport with the added bonus of being able to work behind the scenes with the team, making the experience even more enjoyable.

Carlos drove brilliantly, his skill and determination evident in every maneuver. He fought his way through the pack after an unfortunate position set in qualifying the day before, his car dancing around the corners with precision. When he crossed the finish line in third place, the cheers from the Ferrari garage were deafening. Carlos had secured a podium finish, a testament to his talent and the team’s hard work.

Charles, too, had an impressive race. He finished fourth, just shy of the podium, but his performance was strong and consistent. It was a good day for Ferrari, overall. The atmosphere in the paddock was electric with celebration and relief. Team members exchanged high-fives and hugs, their faces alight with joy.

After the podium celebration and a team photo, you were heading toward the meeting room for the post-race debrief when Carlos approached you, flanked by a few other team members.

“Hey, we’re thinking of grabbing dinner tonight to celebrate. You in?”

You hesitated, searching for an excuse. “Oh, I already have plans with Ava tonight. Rain check?”

Carlos frowned but nodded. “Sure, maybe next time.”

Everyone gathered in the meeting room, a large space filled with monitors and charts displaying the race data. The room was filled with the hum of quiet conversations, the excitement from the day’s success still palpable. As you settled into the debrief, you noticed Carlos tapping away on his phone before holding it under the table. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down to see his message.

‘You looked amazing today. My number really suited you, why’d you change?’

You frowned in confusion, not understanding what he meant. Another message came through almost immediately.

‘I saw you wearing a shirt with my number on it earlier, did you not notice?’

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You hadn’t even realized you had been wearing his number. The shirt was one Carlos had left in your hotel room after staying the night, and since he never asked for it back, you packed it and took it home. You ended up wearing it at home often because it was comfortable, but it was the first time you wore it in public, and that too without realizing it. Worst of all, Carlos had noticed.

‘Didn’t want to distract you’ you texted back, deciding against mentioning that you only changed because you spilled coffee on it, otherwise you would’ve worn it the entire day without realizing.

Carlos’ response was almost immediate. ‘Too late for that. You’re distracting me right now.’

You glanced up to see him smirking at you from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

Throughout the debrief, Carlos continued to text you, his messages a mix of playful banter and subtle compliments.

‘Focus on the debrief, Carlos.’ You texted, hoping to divert his attention towards the meeting.

That didn’t work because it wasn’t long before you received another text from him. ‘How can I, you got me picturing you in my shirt, and nothing but my shirt.’

You felt the blush deepen, grateful that the dim lighting in the room due to the projector hid your reddening cheeks. You tried to focus on the engineer’s analysis of the race, but Carlos’ messages kept pulling your attention.

‘Seriously, though. You make it hard to concentrate. I can’t stop thinking about you’

You shook your head slightly, finding it unbelievable that he was mentioning such topics during a meeting. ‘Stop it, Carlos. We’re supposed to be working’

He glanced up at you for a moment, finding it amusing that you couldn’t contain your smile despite the messages you sent opposing his words.

‘You know, I miss our late-night talks…and other things’

Your eyes wandered down to the phone in your palm, widening when you read his text. You typed out a message quickly, hoping to end the conversation without getting caught by your superiors. ‘Carlos, this isn’t the time or place.’

‘When then?’

You took a deep breath, deciding to leave that question unanswered, not knowing how to respond.

As the debrief continued, you placed your phone face down on the table, trying to focus on the discussion. Carlos’ gaze never left you, watching like a hawk as you picked up your pen and jotted down notes. The intensity of his stare made it difficult to concentrate, each glance in his direction only heightening your anxiety.

The room buzzed with the low murmur of voices as engineers and team members discussed the race’s finer points. Monitors displayed graphs and data from the day’s performance, adding a layer of visual complexity to the meeting. You found yourself scribbling notes almost mechanically, your mind half on the task and half on Carlos.

Every now and then, your phone would buzz with another message from him, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Each vibration felt like a small electric shock, jolting your concentration. You knew he was trying to get your attention, and it took every ounce of willpower to stay focused on the debrief.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you picked up your phone and saw his latest message: ‘What are you doing tonight?’

You hesitated for a moment before typing back, ‘You already asked me that. I told you I’ll be with Ava.’

Almost immediately, his response came. ‘I mean after that’

Your heart skipped a beat, understanding the implication. You felt a rush of emotions, conflicted between your desire for him and the secret you were holding.

‘Come on,’ his next message read as he watched your facial expressions while you contemplated your choices. ‘It’s been too long since we’ve celebrated.’

You understood what he meant by celebrations, remembering how the night ended the last time he won a race. A part of you wondered if baby Sainz growing in your womb was the result of that night, or the ones that followed.

The thought of being with him intimately while actively hiding that secret from him almost made you sick to your stomach. You knew you couldn't do that to him, despite how much you clenched your thighs together at the thought of another night spent tangled in the sheets.

You glanced around the room, making sure no one was watching, then quickly typed back, ‘Carlos, it’s not that simple right now’

His reply was swift, ‘It can be. Just say yes.’

You thought back to the night he won, a hint of a smile growing on your face as you thought of another remark and quickly texted him. ‘Besides, you didn’t win today.’

Carlos looked up at you, catching your smile, and grinned. His fingers moved rapidly across his phone screen and you were fortunate that no one around him noticed his lack of attention on the debrief.

‘Podium is still a win. Third place means we can still celebrate, right?’

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. His persistence was both endearing and infuriating. ‘You’re relentless’ you typed back, feeling the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

‘Only because you’re worth it’ came his immediate response.

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t give up easily and you didn’t want him to either. Your mind raced, trying to balance your feelings with the reality of the situation. But at that moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him, how much you missed the way he made you feel.

‘Okay’ you typed back finally. ‘But we need to talk first, Carlos. Seriously.’

He didn’t respond to the text, instead he sought out your gaze, waiting for you to look at him before nodding. Noticing the depth in his eyes, the honesty, you knew the truth had to be revealed tonight.

You placed your phone face down again, trying to focus on the remaining part of the debrief, but your thoughts were now consumed with the upcoming conversation with Carlos. The tension between you two was palpable, and you knew tonight could change everything.

The debrief ended, and you began to gather your things. You noticed Carlos heading your way, a small grin on his face. Just before he was about to reach you, Charles interrupted him, stopping him for a hushed conversation. Since you weren’t far away, you were able to overhear parts of their conversation.

“Is she coming? If she is, Ava will too,” Charles inquired, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversations.

Carlos shook his head at first, then looked at Charles with a pointed glare. “Why do you want Ava there?”

Charles seemed puzzled, pausing before he shrugged. “Well, they’re both part of the team, so…?”

Carlos shook his head again. “She said she already has plans with Ava, so I guess neither of them are coming.”

“Really? I heard she didn’t have any plans tonight.”

Charles’ behaviour made Carlos roll his eyes before elbowing him in annoyance. “Why did you put me up to it then if you already knew?”

He shrugged again, his expression neutral. “Just wanted to make sure, plus she likes you better than me for some reason.”

Carlos glanced back at you, his confusion deepening. You could feel his eyes on you as you exited the room, knowing that the conversation you had been dreading was going to be unavoidable tonight.

You found a quieter corner in an office within the paddock to work on some last-minute media projects. The celebrations were in full swing elsewhere, but you stayed behind. The room was dimly lit, the only sound being the soft hum of your laptop since most of the team and other personnel were off enjoying the dinner celebration or heading back to their hotels.

You immersed yourself in your work, hoping to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your head. The tasks were routine—updating social media posts and editing photos from the race—but they kept your mind occupied. You sipped on a Red Bull, the caffeine helping to keep you focused.

Minutes turned into hours and you were completely immersed by the contents on the screen. Papers were strewn across your desk, and your fingers danced across the keyboard.

The can of Red Bull sat beside you, half-drunk. You had initially popped the tab, but after drinking half of it, you realized you needed to be cautious with your caffeine intake given your situation. It had been sitting on your desk for a while now, and you were hesitant to take another sip.

The door opened but you hadn’t noticed until Carlos gasped theatrically, causing you to look up in surprise. “You traitor!” he exclaimed, pointing at the can. “Siding with the enemy?”

You laughed, the sound a mixture of relief and amusement. “Well, Ferrari doesn’t make energy drinks, Carlos. What else am I supposed to do to stay awake?”

He chuckled, the tension between you two momentarily easing. He walked closer, pulling up a chair beside you. “Good point. But seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you had plans with Ava.”

You looked down, the weight of your lie pressing on you. “I needed to get some work done,” you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing the rim of the Red Bull can. “There’s always something that needs to be finished.”

Carlos’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. “I saw Ava at the dinner. She said you were here working when she left. You seemed pretty adamant about those plans earlier.”

You sighed, feeling the pressure build up. “I didn’t have plans. I just… needed some time to myself, Carlos. To think and work through some things.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

You shrugged, your eyes avoiding him.

Carlos was silent for a moment, his gaze intense. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? You don’t have to hide.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat, realizing that the conversation you’ve been dreading was going to happen in the paddock of all places. “I know. It’s just… complicated.”

He reached out, placing a hand on yours. “I’m here now. Let’s talk. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “It’s just… everything feels overwhelming right now. The race, work, us.”

Carlos’s eyes softened. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Every time I try to talk to you, you find an excuse to be somewhere else.”

“No, I—”

“Yes,” he insisted, cutting you off. “And you’ve never been the type to avoid confrontation. Did I do something that makes you run away every time you see me?”

Carlos noticed your attempts to avoid him, which he openly acknowledged, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Well, you did something..." you trailed off, since he was technically half of the reason you were in this predicament in the first place.

“Enlighten me,” he said, his tone challenging but not unkind.

“What would change if I tell you?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“For one, I would have my friend back,” he replied softly.

“Are we friends or are we coworkers who fuck?” You shot back, your tone coming out a little harsher than you expected.

“We were friends first, were we not?” he questioned, his voice dropping to a whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “Okay, Carlos. Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes locked onto yours.

“It could change your life,” you warned, feeling a mixture of fear and resolve.

“It’s that serious?” he asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking away for a moment to blink away the tears pricking the corners of your eyes

“It only makes me want to know more,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent.

You took a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’m pregnant, Carlos, and it’s yours.”

——

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[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 12)

summary: without another word from jack, you and hugh continue your relationship without any issue or distraction. filming comes close to an end and there's one scene that hugh needs your assistance with. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: smut (18+, mdni), lots of oil (duh, someone's gotta lube hugh up for that end scene), dirty talk, teasing, sex in hugh's trailer, oral - f & m receiving, unprotected p in v, swallowing, missionary, hugh covers your mouth (to keep you quiet), implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 3.6k a/n: ok, this is complete filth lol. i had to write something about this scene because when hugh said that there were people whose sole job was to lube him up??? well, let's just say my mind went places lol. hope y'all enjoy! (needed some good fluff / smut before we get back into the angst hehe) as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part. - next part.

Filming continues and you’re grateful that Jack hasn’t tried to reach out to you nor does he try to look for you either. Knowing that he got the hint that you no longer are giving him control of your life, it gives you relief. You feel like you can finally breathe again, can finally move forward with your life, with Hugh. 

Without worrying about Jack coming back, you’re able to get back to enjoying your day-to-day responsibilities of continuing to take photographs on set of the movie. Every day, you wake up feeling immensely grateful for Hugh, Ryan, and Shawn for giving you this opportunity. While you normally take photographs of couples who have recently gotten engaged and have occasionally worked a small wedding, being an on-set photographer and capturing behind the scenes content is so much more enjoyable. It gives you a glimpse of how movies are made, shows you the passion and dedication of each cast and crew member. 

But Hugh… you had always been a fan of his work and being able to see him in his element left you speechless every time. The way he’s able to switch into character so easily and become Logan Howlett - a character that you’ve always loved. 

Throughout filming, you’re just in awe of everyone on set and to be able to see the movie unfold right before your eyes is an experience that you’re sure will only happen once in a lifetime. 

And as the end of filming fast approaches, you embrace every second of every day you’re on set. You find that you fall more in love with Hugh, watching him interact with every single person and making sure that they feel seen and heard - he truly is perfect, and a really good man, and you have to wonder what you did to deserve him. 

Hugh hadn’t brought up Jack in months since the last argument you both had and you’re grateful. You never wanted Jack to ever be the reason to get in between you and Hugh. While you feel partially responsible, you have come to realize that it was bound to happen eventually. It was naive to think that Hugh wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. 

“So,” Hugh says, pulling you from your thoughts as you both remain lying in bed, limbs entangled after yet another intimate session of lovemaking. 

“Hm?” You ask, turning to look over at him as your fingertips run across his bare chest. 

“How are we going to go back to New York and not be with each other every night and morning?”

You arch a brow in his direction. You know what he’s implying and he’s just staring at you with a small smile. A hopeful smile. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad to have my own space after–,” you tease, trying to keep a straight face. 

Hugh narrows his eyes and moves to hover above you, hands grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your heads. You’re both still naked and he makes sure to press his hips into you. You can feel him getting harder and harder by the second. 

“Wanna say that again, baby?” 

“How are you getting hard again?” You ask, lifting your hips to roll against his. 

“You make it easy,” he winks. “Now, don’t go and change the subject.” 

“Well, that’s really difficult when you’re literally distracting me!” 

Hugh smirks, his grip around your wrist tightening as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. “You ain’t gonna miss me?” He whispers, moving his hips as his tip brush against you. “Not gonna miss sleeping next to me and waking up next to me, baby?” 

“Hugh…” your eyes flutter and your legs wrap around his hips, locking your ankles at his lower back. “I will… I will miss you. I was just teasing and–”

Hugh grins and slides into you in one thrust, growling as your walls surround him. “That’s what I thought.” 

—

Later that week, you’re staring up at Hugh who’s grinning down at you. You’re in his trailer and he’s already in his Wolverine suit - albeit a little dirtier than when he first put it on and his arms now in full display. 

“You’re telling me that I will need to oil you up?” You ask, eyes wide. “For what? Why? Oh my god, I’m gonna– How will I do that?!” 

“Well, you put oil on your hands and–”

“Okay, ha ha.” You roll your eyes playfully, feeling his hands move to your hips. “Hugh…” 

“What? You want someone else to oil me up? That it? First you say you won’t miss me when we go back home, that you want your space, and now you don’t wanna touch me?” He teases with a smirk. “What’s next, baby?” 

“Oh stop, you’re being dramatic.” You laugh quietly, looking into his eyes. 

“So, you’ll oil me up?” He grins. 

“If I must,” you tease. “But you owe me.” 

“Oh, baby, just you wait.” He winks. 

“What does the scene even consist of where I have to put oil on you?” 

“You’ll see.” 

“Not even a hint?” 

Hugh shakes his head and leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Nope. I will say, though,” he whispers, moving his lips along your jawline to your ear. “I’m gonna try my very best not to get excited when your hands are all over me.”  

“Oh my god, you’re going to be shirtless, aren’t you?” 

His lips grow into a wide grin as he gently nips along the side of your neck, hands gripping your hips. “Yeah, baby.” 

You look at him from top to bottom, biting down on your lower lip as your gaze darkens at the thought. You clear your throat and look back into his eyes, slowly shaking your head. “Yeah, you owe me because I don’t know how I’m going to oil you up without wanting to–”

“Oh, I know,” Hugh chuckles, interrupting you. “Good thing it’s the last scene to shoot before we call it a day.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that after that scene, you’re going to take me back to the hotel and…” you wiggle your brows together. “You know.”

Hugh smirks, hands slowly moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, dipping low to rest on your backside. “I don’t know,” he lies. “Why don’t you tell me what I’ll be doing when we get back to the hotel room?” 

“You’re gonna let me have my way with you,” you grin, nodding excitedly. 

“Oh, I’m gonna let you, will I?” 

“Yes.” you answer, matter-of-factly. 

“Love the confidence, baby,” Hugh grins as he leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Gotta get back on set. I’ll see you later.” 

“You’re such a tease.” 

“Am I?” 

“Yes, Hugh,” you answer, pulling back and looking up at him with a small pout on your lips.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he winks. “You know I will.”

“You better.”

“I promise,” Hugh says. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you smile. 

—

Throughout the rest of the day, you find yourself distracted with the thought of having to oil Hugh up for the last scene of the day. While you’re still in awe of the acting from both Ryan and Hugh, you can’t help but your eyes deviate to Hugh’s arms as he says his lines. 

And even as that scene approaches, Shawn is the first one to walk up to you, a teasing grin on his lips. “So, you’re okay with oiling Hugh up for this last scene?” 

“I think it’d be weird if I wasn’t,” you tease, biting the inside of your cheek in anticipation. 

“That’s true,” he chuckles. “Ryan’s been teasing him all day about it,” Shawn points out. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” you smile. “How much oil will I have to put on him, by the way?” 

“Um,” Shawn grins. “Quite a lot and depending on how many takes we’ll need to get the right one…”

“Okay, so we might need more than one bottle.”

“Oh, we have plenty.” 

“And this scene…” you begin, playing with your camera strap. 

“It’s a good one,” Shawn finishes for you. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t be Wolverine if there wasn’t at least one shot of him without a shirt, right?” 

Shawn laughs quietly. “That’s right… Speaking of the devil,” he nods his head over your shoulder and you turn slightly to see Hugh without his shirt, simply dressed in only the yellow and blue pants with the matching boots and cowl. 

You clear your throat at the sight of him, his muscles clearly defined as you bite your lower lip. Your eyes linger on his chest and abdomen, moving along his strong arms and shoulders. Ryan’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you turn your gaze on the other man, who’s dressed in his entire Deadpool gear.

“You might want to pick up your jaw off the floor,” Ryan chuckles. 

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, gently smacking his chest. “I see this every day, it’s nothing new to me,” you lie.

Hugh places his hands on his hips, staring at you with a slight tilt to his head and a small smirk on his lips. He can see your eyes flitting back to him, can see the way you're gently gnawing at your lower lip and he knows exactly what kind of look you’re giving him. 

“I know,” Ryan sighs dramatically. “Lucky you.” 

“Got the oil for you,” Hugh says, handing it to you and breaking you out of your thoughts. You take it from him slowly, fingers brushing against his. 

“Right. So, we’re doing this now.” you say, gripping the bottle of oil tightly in your grasp. 

Shawn nods and then looks over at you. “Don’t put too much,” he advises. “Just enough to make his skin glisten, like he’s sweating.” 

“Right, right,” you nod, clearing your throat. “Not too much, but just enough.”

Ryan and Shawn quietly chuckle to themselves before giving the both of you some privacy. You look up at Hugh and bite your lower lip, eyes lingering on his lips as it moves down the side of his neck, to his chest and down his abdomen and back up. 

“You nervous, baby?” Hugh whispers. 

“N– No,” you stammer. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

“I don’t even think that’s possible,” he chuckles. “I’m ready for you, love.” 

You nod slowly and then open the bottle of oil, squeezing just enough onto your palm. You set the bottle aside and rub your hands together to evenly distribute the oil before you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders, slowly moving them up and down before you move to his chest. 

Hugh smirks, flexing his chest for you and he lets out a quiet chuckle when he hears you quietly gasp. “Love feeling your hands on me, baby,” he whispers. 

“Stop distracting me,” you tease, pouring just a bit more oil onto your hands before you reach out to spread it along his chest down to his abdomen, feeling each ridge and muscle of his abs. Your hands move dangerously closer to the waistband of his pants, feeling Hugh’s hand immediately dart out to rest on your hip. 

“Careful, baby.”

“Just making sure I got everything.” Slowly, you pull away and look at him, his upper half glistening with the oil you just applied. “I think– I think you’re ready to go.”

Hugh smiles and leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Thank you, baby.”

“I miss seeing your eyes,” you point out, motioning towards the cowl that’s placed atop of his head. “But I can’t lie… this is just as good a view.” 

Hugh opens his mouth to say something, but hears his name being called by Ryan and Shawn. “Duty calls.”

“Try and get this in one take so you can take me back to the hotel.”

Hugh smirks. “Impatient, aren’t you?” 

“Do you see yourself? I’d jump you right here if I could.” 

“Naughty girl,” he whispers lowly. 

“Hugh!” Ryan calls out. “Come on, buddy. I’m sure she will oil you up soon enough.” 

“Go,” you say quietly. 

Hugh nods and then turns on his heel to take his place on set. 

—

It takes more than one take to complete the scene. After about two and a half bottles of oil and intense sexual tension radiating off you and Hugh, Shawn finally calls cut. Hugh walks over to you and takes the towel from your hands to wipe off the immense amount of oil that’s dripping from him, but he can’t help but watch your eyes ogle him. It always made him feel so special and borderline shy when your eyes linger on him, especially with the way you’re staring at him now. 

“Just gotta head back to the trailer and change,” Hugh says. “Then we can go back to the hotel.”

Anticipation courses through your veins as you keep a tight hold on Hugh’s hand, fingers laced together as you walk alongside him. Once at his trailer, Hugh shuts the door and locks it behind him. 

Before you can even ask what he’s doing, Hugh turns to face you and removes the cowl to set it aside. His gaze darkens at the sight of you and in just a few strides in your direction, he’s wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you off your feet. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and your arms move around his shoulders. Letting out a quiet gasp, Hugh gently rests you on your back against the couch, kneeling on the floor between your legs.

“Hugh, what are you–”

“Been wanting you all day,” he says, his large hands moving to your jeans and undoing the button and zipper of it all too quickly. “Can’t wait anymore.”

“Baby–”

“Shh,” Hugh whispers, tugging your jeans down your legs and tossing the fabric over his shoulder. He looks up at you and then moves his hands to the waistband of your black lace panties, slowly tugging them down your legs as well. Once your lower half is completely exposed for him, Hugh holds your legs apart and growls at the sight of your slickened sex. He leans in and brushes the bridge of his nose against you, hands gripping your legs tightly. “Goddamn, baby. You’re already so wet for me.”

“It was because of all that oil,” you whimper, moving your hands to rest in his hair. “Please…”

“And here I thought you were gonna have your way with me,” he grins, pulling back just enough to brush the pad of his thumb against your bundle of nerves. Hugh looks up at you, watches you tilt your head back and your eyes fall shut at the lightest of touches.

“Oh, I will,” you groan. “But first, how about you do what you need to do and–”

“So demanding lately,” he grins, leaning in to lick a stripe along your soaking heat. A loud moan escapes your lips and Hugh smiles, pulling away. “Baby, you gotta stay quiet for me. There are still people on set and we can’t have them hearing you, hearing what I’m doing to you.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, nodding and moving your hands from his hair to cover your mouth instead. “I’ll try my best,” you mumble.

“Atta girl,” he praises and leans back in to lap at your juices, your wetness slowly beginning to trickle down his chest. Hugh grips your hips, holding you firmly against the couch as he moves his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue against it as he brings one hand between your legs. Without hesitation, he slides in two fingers as he sucks at your clit, beginning to pump his two digits in and out of your depths. 

The sounds of your wetness squelches with each thrust of his fingers and he stares up at you to see how hard you’re trying to stay quiet. He smirks against you and slowly adds a third finger, a loud whimper escaping your lips at the intrusion. 

Hugh turns his head and places soft kisses on the inside of your thigh as he leans back, continuing to move his fingers in and out of your depths as he leans over you. With his free hand, he gently removes your own from your mouth and leans in to brush his lips against yours. 

“Feel good, baby?” he whispers, keeping his fingers deep within your depths as he begins to curl them inside of you. “Oh yeah, I can feel you trembling…”

You stare up at him, biting your lower lip as you try to hold back your moans. “Hugh, baby…” 

“Doing so good for me, staying so quiet,” he grins, his fingers curling inwards as your walls begin to tremble and he knows you’re close. Knows that you’re about to reach a heightened pleasure that he leans in and presses his lips against yours in hopes to quiet your moans. 

You reach down and grip his wrist, fingertips digging into his skin as you arch your back. You moan against his lips, feeling his tongue slide past your own and the sensations are just too much, too overwhelming. Hugh pumps his fingers in and out of you to help you ride out your climax, slowly pulling away to hold up his fingers in your direction.

“Look how wet you are for me,” he grins. 

You look up at him, biting your lower lip as you watch him suck on his fingers, cleaning your slick free from his digits. “Hugh…”

“So fucking good,” he winks. 

You’re breathing heavily, but you reach down for his pants and tug on it, seeing the length of his manhood pressing against the yellow fabric. “Take these off.”

Hugh smirks. “Yes, ma’am.” He makes quick work to remove his boots and his pants, kicking them off to the side carelessly. He looks down at himself, his manhood at attention and he settles himself once more between your legs. He holds onto the base of his length and runs his tip across your sex, growling lowly. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he groans. 

“Please,” you whimper. 

“Being such a good girl, baby,” Hugh smirks, slowly sliding into you in one thrust. He groans at your wetness, your warmth walls surrounding every inch of him. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, pulling his hips back before he slides back in. 

“Hugh, I don’t think…” you moan, moving your hands to his shoulders. “I can’t– I can’t stay quiet and–”

“Shh,” he whispers, moving his large hand over your mouth as he delivers a sharp thrust. “Yeah, you can, baby.” 

You let out a loud moan, muffled by his hand as you stare up at him. Hugh pulls out to his tip and slides back into you in one thrust, your legs moving to wrap around his waist. 

Hugh rests his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he keeps his hand over your mouth. Your moans and whimpers are muffled by his large hand and with each thrust, he can see the way your eyes flutter. Hugh’s thrusts continue at a rhythmic pace, your walls sliding along each inch and vein of his manhood. You’re so wet, so tight and warm and Hugh knows he can’t keep this up any longer. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna–” Hugh’s hips begin to stutter, but you reach down and push him away from you, causing a loud groan to escape his lips. He’s quick to grasp his manhood to slide back into you, but you shake your head and sit up on the couch, urging him to stand up. “What?”

“I want you to come in my mouth,” you tell him, biting your lower lip. “That’s one way you can keep me quiet.”

Hugh growls and nods, standing up like you asked. He brings a hand down to your cheek, brushing his thumb across your soft skin and gently tucking a fallen strand behind your ear. “Well?” 

“Now, who’s impatient, hm?” you grin, reaching up to wrap your hand around his slick coated base as your lips move to his tip. Wrapping your lips around him, you begin to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks as your hand strokes the rest of him. You keep your eyes focused on him, watching as he tilts his head back and a hand moves to tangle his fingers into your hair. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, the grip in your tightening as you continue to bob your head in time with your strokes. Hugh can feel the tightness build once again in the pit of his stomach. He looks down at you and groans at the sight, your eyes staring up at him with his cock in his mouth. 

God, if he could spend the rest of his days like this, Hugh would die a happy man. 

“I’m close, I’m gonna–” Hugh’s voice cuts off as you take him even deeper into your mouth and he can feel the tip of his length hit the back of your throat. He groans loudly and gently brushes your hand away from him as he takes a hold of his base. He strokes himself once, twice, three times before spurts of his come release into your mouth. 

You feel his warm spend fill your mouth, a mixture of salty and sweet taste. You swallow it eagerly, slowly bobbing your head as you feel him shudder against you, his hand in your release loosening its grip. When he pulls away, you smile up at him and gently place a soft and light kiss on his tip. 

“Did you really just–”

“Swallow?” you finish for him and nod. “Yup… Is that okay?” 

“Is that okay?” Hugh repeats. “Baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

@wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf

@needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

@sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss

@sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay - @itsallyscorner - @haytchee

@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

@jules-and-gemss

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

HI COULD I GET HCS FOR SOL WITH SHY CRYBABY (gn) S/O on my hands and knees thank you Geo loves you ok

Come Comfort Me (Sol x Shy! Sensitive! MC/Reader)

Anon, I hope you know that being emotional isn't a horrible thing and I do hope you like this. <3

TW: Like one mention of sex.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Comfort: the easing or alleviation of a person's feelings of grief or distress.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Solivan Brugmansia is a fairly socially awkward guy, so when he finds/figures out that you’re shier and much more timid than him, he’s pretty pleased.

It means he can be seen as a source of confidence next to you, someone who can be relied on, someone who you feel won’t — and can’t — judge you.

He originally wanted you to approach him, so he could play his role as a saviour, as a pillar of support;  but after continuously observing you for a bit, he realises he’s gonna have to make the first move.

When he finally approaches you, he instantly notices you turn your eyes away, how you start fiddling with the hem of your shirt and how you quietly answer his queries with short, sharp answers.

He knows you’re going to take a while to warm up to him, and he’s completely fine with that; he himself understands, after all. He’s only got Hyugo for company.

Sol will 110% use the art project as a way to get closer to you, slowly inching more and more into your heart as a source of nonchalant camaraderie. His hope is that he’ll rub off on you (no not literally that’s for the nighttime you horny fucks), and you’ll allow yourself to steadily trust him. You already feel an odd sense of security around him, why not try?

As he gets to know you, both from circumstance and your friendship, Sol notices that you’re…more emotionally sensitive than the average individual.

When he was still observing you, he picked up on the fact that a harsh tone, or crude sarcasm, or even a monotone, blank face led you to become horribly insecure; often to the extent you’d flee the scene and find a bathroom stall to cry in.

One time he found you sniffling on the school’s out-of-bounds balcony, on the verge of tears, mostly due to a snide comment on your appearance, left by one of the bitchier girls of the school.

You felt stupid with how easily you cried, with how weak you were, how anything could break you and make your tears flow so freely;  but Sol, ever your chivalrous gentleman, didn’t pay any mind to it.

If anything it means that when he inevitably gets to be with you, your tears will be smeared across your pleasure-drunk face…but that’s for the (not too distant) future.

He’s going to be as comforting as someone like him can be, he’ll offer you snacks or coffee or even hugs to try and make you feel better (*insert Hyugo’s bombastic ahh side-eye*).

He’s got no limits when it comes to trying to make you feel better about yourself.

After you and Sol both grow extremely close (in more ways than one >:]), and commence the wonderful dating process, he will start being more physical in his affections; ranging from neck and collarbone kisses (and hickeys of course) from behind.

Will make you look into a mirror each day and tell him one thing you love about yourself, and he’ll always state 3-5 (minimum, he wants to do more but won’t want to overdo it, the last thing he wants is for you to deem this as a joke).

If you’re just extremely delicate when it comes to feelings, he won’t mind. It simply means he’ll just have to cradle you and your heart more often. <3

[she-walks-on-starlight]

Negotiations

a/n: This is Day 2! So sorry it's late, I was hospitalised over the weekend which put me behind! I'm working hard to catch up hehe

Pairing: Ambessa Medarda x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Write a scene without any dialogue

Warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, public sex, alcohol drinking, slight dom-sub vibes, mentions of violence, mention of blood

Summary: Ambessa hates negotiating, no matter how important it is for her rule. Perhaps she will make herself some entertainment to find it more enjoyable...

Word Count: 1.1k

18+ | MEN AND MINORS DNI | 18+

You know Ambessa finds these meetings the most tedious part of ruling over Noxus. She finds little meaning or use in negotiations, far more used to greeting political rivals and ambitious warlords with her sword at their throat than breaking bread with them. It is a preposterous notion to her, attempting to appease her perceived enemies. As she presides over the emissaries and nobles at the head of the table, you know she is listening keenly, identifying weakness, and sniffing out any hidden agendas. Noxian custom is steeped in violence, and there was a time that Ambessa would be demanding fealty or these peoples’ heads.

But things are different for her now. Now, her daughter Mel has agreed to remain in contact with her and visit Noxus more often with her consort, Jayce. Ambessa can breathe easier knowing that rebuilding the bridge between herself, and her daughter will secure her legacy and ensure that a Medarda inherits the throne upon Ambessa��s death.

She has you now. Seated to her right, close by so she can always see you. Her consort, the love she never thought she’d find again. You’ve dressed yourself in a scarlet red ensemble tonight, complete with a gold medallion belt accentuating your hips. Red and gold, her favourite colours. The colours of war and victory. Conquest. You’ve already caught her more than once tonight, her eyes raking down your figure, her eyes hungry and her tongue darting out to wet her lips. When your eyes meet, she flashes you a fanged smile, no doubt envisioning the many ways she will take you when this insufferable night is over.

You’re drawn to one of the visiting emissaries booming laughter as he gulps down wine and flirts boisterously with the serving girls as they refill his plate and his cup. You try to suppress your smile as you take in Ambessa’s disgust, knowing she’d want nothing more than to pick up the lout like a ragdoll and smash him into the ornate mahogany dining table, likely shattering it in the process.

The image sends an unexpected but not entirely unwelcome rush of heat between your legs. You squeeze your thighs as you imagine her leering down at the man, twitching as blood leaks from his head and then turns to you with her signature smirk. The very same smirk that ushered you into her bed three years ago, at another function where Ambessa was more interested in the wine selection than the purpose of the gathering. The scandal had rocked the court of Noxus, their esteemed leader engaging in an ill-advised relationship with a younger woman, and the daughter of an insignificant noble. She had silenced their doubts in her usual way, with threats of broken bones and removed tongues.

At first, you were convinced that she wanted only for your body, the way she tasted and marked your flesh during your visits bruising you with carnal possession. She was a tornado of fire, and you were blessed to be at the heart of the inferno. Countless nights you found yourself in awe of her, in awe of your luck. Nights spent with shaking legs, dripping with sweat and your own release as she made you scream her name for her over and over again. She was never satisfied with hearing your desperate pleas and devoted prayers to her only once. You never feared her, and knew she would never hurt you, not unless you asked her to.

But she soon proved to you that she wanted more, much more, than what your body could give her. She wanted you by her side always, listening to her stories of long-forgotten battles on distant shores, showing off your new dresses, massaging away her troubles in the bathhouse. She had fallen hard for you, an unexpected light leading her out of the darkness.

You’re startled out of your reminiscing by a hand creeping up your dress, invited in by the high riding slit at the thigh. You gulp as Ambessa’s face remains completely impassive as she sips at her wine, but you don’t miss the quick glance she sends your way, and you know exactly what she’s trying to say.

Be quiet. Don’t move. And enjoy.

Her hand climbs higher, and you hear her try in vain to supress the deep rumbling groan that threatens to emanate from her throat when she finds no underwear to stop her advance. You’re already wet from your earlier fantasising, and your clit is throbbing, begging for her attention. As she drags calloused fingers through your folds, you grit your teeth and grip the table tightly. You’re in for a ride, and regardless of the social setting, Ambessa will expect you to take what she gives you.

She wastes no time in gathering the slick pooling from you, coating her fingers before she pushes one inside. Her fingers are thick, and no matter how used to the stretch you’ve become, you relish in the burn as your pussy eagerly welcomes her inside. Your knuckles are white with how hard you’re holding on and you’re fighting to keep your breathing even, lest one of your guests suspect something’s wrong. Ambessa would hate to be interrupted.

She’s adding a second finger, smirking into her wine as she can feel you tighten around her. You can feel the pressure mounting in your belly, your entire body aching for release. You shoot her a pleading look and feel her curl her fingers in response. You start to see spots at the edge of your vision as she brings you closer and closer, all while engaging in dull conversation. Gods, you were going to make her pay for this later. Her thumb is pressing roughly against your clit in swift, calculated circles, you can feel her determination to send you tumbling over the edge. Soon enough, you are doing just that, but you’re hurtling not simply falling. Your orgasm hits you like a searing meteorite, burning through you with force and it takes all of your self-control not to cry out, biting down on your lip so hard you draw blood. You cover it up quickly by taking a sip of wine, dabbing at your mouth with your napkin and glaring at Ambessa reproachfully. She takes no notice, leaning back in her chair with a self-satisfied grin.

Shaking your head, you try to reintegrate yourself into the conversation, though none of it holds your interest. Instead, you find yourself consumed by thoughts of your handsome warrior, trailing over each scar you can see and thinking fondly of all the ones you cannot but know intimately. You will reward her mischief with a soothing massage and relaxing oils tonight, it’s been far too long since you’ve caressed her bulging muscles. But you will deny her the taste of your flesh until she begs, a fitting punishment for tonight’s shenanigans. After all, no matter what the nobles of Noxus or the visiting emissaries of foreign lands may think, no matter how imposing Ambessa may appear, you know that there is only person she will fall to her knees for. Tonight, you will make her remember why.  

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 6

Part 1: Linked Here | Part 2: Linked Here | Part 3: Linked Here | Part 4: Linked Here | Part 5: Linked Here

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Smut

🚫🔞THIS IS AN ADULT BLOG CONTAINING EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, A18+ ONLY.🔞🚫

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, lemon, hand job, boobs, penetrative sex

Link to My Master List

🐳🐢😎❤️

Shoto’s POV

The ripe morning sun casts generous rays across Shoto’s bare chest. It’s a delightful sensation to wake up to – enjoyably warm on his pale, bare skin. He stretches and flexes his arms and legs, feeling like a cat in a sun puddle.

He holds up a hand to cast a shadow over his eyes, squinting in the bright light. He feels like he can’t quite wake up all the way. His head feels cloudy and a bit off. Huh, that’s annoying. But the bed is warm and his feet are sandy. Where is he? Oh, yes – now he remembers.  The Todoroki family’s vacation home in Furuzamami beach.

He stretches again and rolls onto his side. The site that meets his two-toned eyes nearly takes his breath away. Y/N is sprawled out on the bed next to him, looking sexy and carefree in a comfy, oversized t-shirt. She’s curled on her side, the t-shirt creeping up to reveal a bare, suntanned thigh.

“Is it morning already?” She complains loudly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Shoto chuckles softly and reaches out so he can wrap her in his arms. “Yes, it’s morning. But you can sleep in if you’d like. We don’t have anywhere we need to be.” He rubs his hands soothingly along her sides, appreciating her curves.

Mischievously, he slides his hands down to find the hem of her shirt where it rests at her thighs. He plays with the fabric for a moment before slipping his hands underneath the shirt and sliding his hands up, up, up. He feels along the curve of her hip and, fuck, she’s not wearing any underwear. He moves his hands up further to cup her bare breasts beneath the tee.

“Mmmm, Sho.” She sighs as he begins to play with her nipples. She leans back into him, enjoying the erotic touch. Her eyes are closed and there’s a gentle smile on her lips. He modulates the temperature of his hands, teasing her with hot and cold finger tips. She moans as he pinches and rolls at her sensitive buds, arching her back into him sensuously. She sighs in time with his touches, finally moaning out: “Fuck me, Sho.”

Shoto’s more than happy to comply. He removes his hands from her breasts so he can roughly push down his boxer shorts. His thick, hard cock springs free – ready for action.

He hastily pushes up her nightshirt and it bunches around her stomach, the fabric creasing as he pulls her hips towards him. He bends around her from behind – the perfect big spoon. Finally, he uses his hand to guide his dick into her, her juicy pussy pulling his cockhead in greedily as they bask in the morning sunshine.

“Sho!” She groans out, unhappy with how slowly he’s moving. He grins into her shoulder, taking his time. He sheathes himself in her, inch by glorious inch, reveling in the way that her breath hitches with each gentle push. When he finally bottoms out, he’s holding onto her hips for dear life. The sensation of being fully connected with her, fully inside her beautiful pussy – it’s too much for his brain to comprehend.

He tries to keep his thrusts slow and even, he really does. But the delicious feeling of her gummy walls around his hardness is too much to resist. Her pussy tugs and pulls on him in the most delightful way. Before he knows it his hips are pistoning wildly and he’s fucking into her with the force of a man chasing release.

She’s making the most beautiful, sinful noises as he pounds into her pussy. It’s when she starts calling out his name that he truly goes into overdrive. He slides his hands back up to grasp at her breasts and she moans in response, her slick pussy twitching around him at the contact.

“Holy Fuck.” He manages to breathe out between thrusts as he feels an orgasm begin to roll throughout his body and down his cock. He cums hard, pumping her full of his sticky release. Her pussy milks him hungrily and she cries out as she feels ropes of hot, thick cum hit her deep inside. He vaguely wonders if he should have worn a condom, but he’s too blissed out to care. He can’t decide where to hold her as he cums – his hands traveling along her thighs hips, and breasts as he fucks up into her. Finally, Shoto sighs, exhausted, as he comes down off of his high. He continues to thrust loosely into her as her pussy squeezes out every drop of his baby batter.

When he’s finished, he leans to rest his head on her perfectly shaped shoulder as they both try to catch their breath. He leaves his dick inside of her, letting his spent cock twitch with overstimulation as she shifts against it, still horny. He kisses at her neck lazily, his hands still massaging at her perfect breasts. Fuck does he love those breasts.

“Oh my God, Sho. That was amazing. Can you - ”

But whatever she was going to ask for, Shoto will never find out. He wakes up in his dorm bed, startled and breathing heavily. It’s the middle of the night and the room is filled to the brim with a thick darkness.

He looks around for a moment, confused as to why you’re not here with him. He quickly comes to his senses and realizes it was all a dream. He sighs in frustration, feeling how his boxers are sticky and wet. His dick is sticking to the thin grey fabric greedily, still half hard from his provocative dream.

Shoto’s been having wet dreams for years now, but he never stops getting embarrassed about it. He climbs off of his sleeping palette and strips down to survey the damage. Soooo yeah. This was a particularly intense dream. His dick and upper thighs are absolutely covered in a sheen of warm, sticky cum. Ugh. He grabs a towel from his dresser and uses it to wipe himself down. He feels a mess, and thinks it might be good to go and take a shower. He’s already half-hard again just thinking about his dream. He re-plays the bits and pieces he can remember in his mind – laying with you naked, relaxed. The stretch of your silky pussy wrapped tight around his cock. The sun beating down on his skin as he fucks into you. He thinks that it might be good to go jerk off in the shower where clean up will be easy.

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. Better to go work it out of his system rather than wake up covered in cum for a second time that night. He wraps himself in a towel and grabs his shower things, walking to the common bathroom so he can take care of business (aka pleasuring himself to his nighttime fantasies of you).

He sets his things on the shower stall hook and starts up the hot water. It’s still early in the morning, so he can take his time without worrying about anyone else walking in. He slings his towel over the top of the shower stall and steps inside, flipping the lock on the stall door soundly closed.

He lets the hot water run down his back, breathing deeply as he lets his muscles relax. He lets his mind wander back to how it felt to be inside your dream pussy. His cock jumps to life. He reaches down and starts to stroke at it, gasping at the pleasure that runs through his body in waves. Fuck.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum for the second time that night, leaving him sleepy and loose-limbed. Jeez, he wants you so bad. He rinses himself off under the hot water and his hormone-fueled brain makes him wonder…if he asked if he can make love to you, would you say yes?

He shakes the thought from his head, water flying off of his two-toned hair as he turns the squeaky nob of the shower to the off position. The cool night air hits his wet body and causes a shiver to run through him. He bundles himself into his towel and hurries back to his dorm room, dripping all the way.

He slips into a clean pair of boxers and towels off his hair before tucking himself back into his soft sheets. The expensive linens are smooth and comfortable across his skin, but he finds himself longing for the comfort of your tall puffy bed. He wishes he were wrapped up in your silly girly comforter, covered in stuffed animals. He’d much rather be sleeping next to you. It’s crazy how safe and at ease you make him feel. He can’t recall the last time that he felt such a sense of wholeness, of belonging.

As he slips back into an easy sleep, he imagines that he’s nestled in between you and your Squirtle plush, not a care in the world.

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Back to Y/N’s POV

Friday morning rolls around faster than you’d expect. The school’s schedule has allotted you all a rare three day weekend, so it’s not surprising that Mr. Aizawa is taking advantage of the extra time to participate in an underground Pro Hero team-up. That’s the kind of person he is – constantly moving, always keeping busy and looking for ways to serve those around him.

When Mr. Aizawa leaves campus early Friday morning, it’s predictably with little fanfare. He sends you all an email of his approximate schedule alongside the other teachers’ contact info “for emergencies.”

Class – I’ll be gone Friday through Sunday on a mission. While I’m gone, Class B’s homeroom teacher Vlad King will be in charge in my place. You can reach out to him should any issues arise. Don’t embarrass me. – Aizawa

You shut your laptop and look up at your friends. “Mr. Aizawa’s starting to get sappy or something. Last time he went out of town, he didn’t send us an email.”

Mina and Toru are sitting cross-legged on your bed, surrounded by hastily scribbled hot pink post-it notes. Toru has her dry erase board balanced across her knees as she rattles off names and assignments to Mina, who copies them down onto her post-it notes. They’re writing out everyone’s party planning tasks on the tiny slips of paper. You and Monoma lounge on your floor and review the battle plan intended to distract Vlad King.

“I wonder if Mr. Aizawa’s even, like, truly going on a mission.” Mina says thoughtfully, folding a post-it note in half and scribbling a name on top.

“What do you mean?” Questions Toru as she crosses something off the dry erase board.

“What if he has a secret girlfriend!” Mina squeals, throwing her hands up in the air and sending post-it’s flying around the bedspread. “Maybe he’s sneaking off for a romantic rendezvous…or a passionate love making session in a secret cabin.”

“You’ve been reading too many romance novels.” You say to her, ever the skeptic when it comes to your teacher’s insanely classified private life.

“Also ew! I don’t even want to imagine Mr. Aizawa having sex.” Toru sounds like she’s wrinkling her nose in disgust, but you’ll never truly know the expressions that cross her invisible face.

“What are you even saying?” Monoma pipes in from beside you. “Aizawa definitely fucks.”

You all turn to stare at him in disbelief.

“Excuse me!?” You cry out in surprise, breaking the stunned silence. Monoma smiles smugly.

“Eraserhead is one fine piece of ass! I would totally hit that. If I were, like, 30. And if I didn’t already have my heart set on a certain grumpy, purple haired god.” His eyes twinkle and he looks dreamily up at the ceiling.

“You so have a type.” Toru says flatly, throwing one of your plushies down at Monoma to wipe the faraway expression off of his face. “You like the dark, broody, emo ones.”

“Bingo!” Monoma snaps his fingers and grins at Toru. “You’re absolutely right. There’s something about a bad boy that just has me down bad.”

“Would you even consider Shinsou a ‘bad boy?’” You stifle a giggle. “He’s more of a sleepy boy than anything.”

“What can I say…I like them baggy eyed.” Monoma waggles his eyebrows at you all. He traces his fingers beneath his eyes, referencing the dark bruised under eye shadows that Shinsou and Aizawa have in common. “An exhausted caked up guy is my dream.”

You all burst out laughing. It’s nice - hanging out with Monoma like this. He is a natural fit for your group. You wonder if after the party you’ll continue to see each other in this capacity. It wouldn’t be so bad expanding your group of 3 to 4.

“All right.” Toru clears her throat when the giggles die down. “We have everyone’s assignments all figured out. Let’s go deliver them.” You all get to your feet and divide up the post-it notes between you. “We have 10 hours to get this all figured out. We’ll need a flawless execution to pull off the greatest secret party the UA dorms have ever seen!”

“The only secret party.” You correct her, laughing as you stuff folded post-its into your pockets. “Or, the first secret party at least. Hopefully we can throw more.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mina punches the sky gleefully. You’re all a little giddy and hopeful – if the 4 of you can pull this off, you can do anything. “Now let’s get going!”

You all dash out into the hallways and begin slipping notes under your classmate’s doors. Everyone who showed interest in the party has an assignment. Everyone in the class is sort-of on board. Except for Katsuki. No one felt like getting yelled at so you’re leaving it to Izuku to casually mention it to him right before everyone arrives. Mina will deal with him if you need be.

You flick the first post-it under Izuku Midoriya’s door. He, Ochaco and Tsu are in charge of paper goods and flatware. They’ll be making their way down to the local convenience store shortly to pick up standard paper plates, party napkins and red solo cups.

“So how’s the plan to distract Mr. King coming along, Toru?” You ask curiously. Toru has been in charge of your distraction strategy. She’s been up late the past few nights working out the kinks on her white board.

“Oh – I forgot to update you both! Obviously Mineta is the key to our distraction plan. But Monoma figured out a genius way to buy us even more time!” She grins at Neito, who practically glows at the praise.

“I asked Mei Hatsume if she’d be interested in getting involved. She said she can add some gadgets to our plan to give Mr. King quite a bit of trouble. Nothing dangerous of course – I love my teacher. But with Hatsume involved, we can level up our whole plan and add in just the right amount of chaos.” His smile is wide, a light touch of his usual insanity shines through.

“What are her terms?” Mina asks, a bit cynical. “What does she want in exchange for her help and resources?”

Monoma’s bright smile glints in the florescent hallway light. “That’s the thing! When I visited her in the Support Course workshop I really sold the whole thing as a challenge of her skills and wits. She doesn’t want anything in exchange; she just wants to use it as an opportunity for creative problem solving. Also, she said she’d like to see how her “babies” hold up against a real Pro Hero.”

“Huh that…oddly makes sense.” You say, unbelieving that this whole thing is coming together so nicely. “She’s crazy talented. That was super smart to ask her.”

“Careful, Y/N – don’t go stroking Neito’s ego too much. You know how cocky he can get!” Mina laughs as Neito basks in your praise.

“I mean…we all know that he’d rather get something else stroked!” Toru shrieks out a laugh pointing at Hitoshi’s room as they walk by.

Monoma’s face goes red. “Shut up!” But he laughs along. He flips Toru off as she shoots a post-it under another door.

Suddenly, there’s a creaking noise from behind your group. Your heads whip around to see a sleepy looking Hitoshi Shinsou emerging from his bedroom. He’s wearing a pair of purple plaid pajama pants and an oversized grey t-shirt. His purple hair is rumpled and stuck up oddly on one side, clearly fresh from sleep. He blinks blearily at you all.

“Hey.” His voice is husky, tinged with exhaustion. “I heard about the party. Anything I can help with?”

Mina strides backwards on her heels, eyes alight with mischief. “Actually – we still need a good playlist! Maybe you could collab with Neito and put something together?”

Shinsou nods, stifling a yawn. “Yeah, for sure. I’m going to shower and workout a bit, then I have some time at 11. Does that work for you Nei?”

You can’t help the way a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth as Shinsou uses an affectionate little nickname for Monoma. You turn to see how Neito’s handling all this. He’s clearly struggling to keep his composure, as he’s covering his mouth with his hand and trying to look thoughtful.

“Yes, that works. I’ve been thinking a mix of modern pop with some 80s synth sprinkled in would be a good fit for the evening’s festivities.” He says from behind his hand.

This brings a smile out of Hitoshi, who seems a bit more awake and alert now. “That sounds like a great starting place. Meet me back here and we’ll work through it, ‘kay?”

“Sounds great.” Neito says flatly, trying to seem a bit aloof. You nearly breakout in a fit of giggles– Neito trying to act “subtle” is about as ridiculous to watch as an ostrich skateboarding.

“Cool. See you soon.” Hitoshi gives you, Mina and Toru a nod. “Excited for the big shindig tonight. Is there a dress code?”

“Keep it classy and casual. But also wear something hot.” Mina says waggling her eyebrows. “We’re playing spin the bottle. So if there’s someone you wanna kiss, you should dress up to get his or her attention.”

Hitoshi quirks an eyebrow at this. “Spin the bottle? I feel like I saw that on an old cheesy American movie from the 80s or 90s.”

“The very same!” Mina says smoothly. “Can we count on your participation?”

Hitoshi snorts a laugh. “Put me down as a tentative maybe. I’ll need to see who’s all participating before I commit to making a fool of myself.”

Mina nods approvingly. “A tentative maybe is a good start. Keep in mind that the four of us will definitely be partaking. So that’s 4 sexy potential kiss candidates on the docket already.” God, she’s laying it on thick. Monoma’s face is so red it’s practically glowing under the fluorescents. “You really can’t lose.” She adds, eyes shimmering.

Hitoshi’s pale skin flushes for a brief moment as his eyes dart between the four of you before landing briefly on Monoma. “Good to know.”

“Alright, we’ve gotta get going!” Toru pushes at Mina to clear your crew out of the hallway. “Lots to do and so little time!”

“Good luck with everything today. See you all later.” Hitoshi waves as he retreats back into his dark room. “Oh, and Neito – I’ll start a joint Spotify list between the two of us.” He flashes one final, small grin and then he’s gone to gather his shower things. Neito swoons back into your shoulder.

“God, the things I’d do to that boy. So fuckin’ cute and sleepy.” He mumbles out as you hit the stairwell, off to another floor.

“I think you may actually have a chance there, Neito.” You say, delivering a flick to his forehead to bring him back to reality. “He blushed a lil when we mentioned Spin the Bottle.”

“I dunno, Y/N. Maybe he wants to kiss me, you or Mina!” Toru teases, running down 3 steps at a time as Neito pretends to chase her to the next floor.

“No! His beautiful sleepy ass belongs to me!” Neito cackles as he swipes out a hand to catch Toru, but she’s too quick. She slithers out the door to the next level of dorm rooms and the three of you follow gleefully.

“It really is all coming together, isn’t it?” Mina says, almost pensively. “Our big, ambitious dream. The party. The friends. The kissing.” You all giggle as you slip more post-it notes under your classmate’s doors. “What could go wrong?”

After the note distribution is complete, you leave your friends with a wave. Everyone is taking a quick break to work on his or her respective party projects and to pick out outfits. You plan to meet up again in a few hours for final preparations and to kick off Operation: Distract Mr. Vlad King! before sunset.

You have a bit of precious time to yourself so you decide to knock on Shoto’s door. You know from a brief good morning text exchange that he’s decided to spend the day studying up until the party, so there’s a good chance he’s in his dorm room.

He opens the door after the second knock. Like Hitoshi, he’s wearing comfy clothes. You’re surprised to see that his sweat pants are Best Jeanist branded merchandise. They have the Pro Hero’s logo printed in a pattern across the hems. He’s got a charcoal colored fitted t-shirt on – you’re pleased to see it leaves nothing to the imagination. The shirt hugs his frame tightly, his rippling muscles forming hard planes beneath the thin fabric.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you so early.” Shoto says in surprise, his face folding into an easy soft smile.

“I have 20 minutes before I need to meet up with some of our classmates to work on decorations for tonight.” You say, pushing past him to enter the dorm room before anyone on the floor can see. “Thought I might come by and put you to good use.”

“Put me to good use… decorating?” Shoto asks, confused. His brow is furrowed as he tries to think back to when you may have mentioned needing help with the party décor. He closes the door soundly behind you and locks it. You glance around and smile at the sunlight streaming in across his room. A few textbooks and notepads are strewn across the floor next to his flat mattress.

“Mmm, no. I’d like to put you to good use giving me an orgasm.” You smile slyly and bat your eyes up at him. The thrill of your party planning going well is making you bold.

His face heats up as the implication of your previous statement hits him. “Oh!”

“I mean, if you’re for that! I don’t want to interrupt your studying if you’ve hit a good groove. I want you to be the best hero you can be, obviously.” You quickly backtrack.

He smiles as he leans down to capture your lips in a light kiss. “I’ve hit a good stopping point, for now. I was working on English.”

“Ah, yeah I did that homework last night. It’s brutal.” You sympathize, glancing over at his English textbook with trepidation.

“I think I’m getting pretty good at it.” He shrugs, stepping away from you. “Actually…I can think of a fun way that we can keep studying together while we get you off. If you’re up for the challenge, of course.”

Your ears perk up. “Oh, I am always up for a challenge Shoto Todoroki.” The use of his full name makes him smile wider. It’s sweet how soft he is for the simple things.

Shoto leans down and clears his books off his sleeping pallet. “For the next 20 minutes, everything we say needs to be in English. Until I make you cum, at least.”

“Deal.”

He sits down on the mattress, palming at his crotch lightly. He adjusts his package to a more comfortable position as he feels himself start to get hard. “Get over here.” He says in English, his accent formal and perfect. No surprise there. It sends a thrill up your spine to hear him speak to you in a different language.

You saunter over to him, pulling your shirt over your head easily. You reach behind your back and unclip your bra, letting it drop to the floor.

“Someone’s eager.” Shoto jokes, but his teasing turns to a gasp as you straddle him and line your core up to where you assume his half-hard dick rests.

“Pop quiz.” You say, your English a little rough around the edges, but passable. “What are these called in English?” You grasp your bare breasts, one in each hand. You squish them a bit and give Shoto a full view, your nipples perking up in the breezy air of the room. He stares at them in wonder, leaning forward so he can wrap his arms around your back and pull you closer. He latches his mouth onto your left breast, sucking at it thoughtfully before responding.

“Tits. Boobs. Breasts. God…yours are perfect.” He rattles off in seamless English. He rolls his tongue around your nipple before gently sucking on the hardened tip. You groan under the intensity of his mouth, flaring your hips so you can grind down into him.

“Are you going to cum like this? Just from my mouth on your breasts?” Shoto questions when he comes up for air. He uses his other hand to tweak your neglected right nipple.

“M-maybe.” You stutter out in English as you start to grind on his hardening dick. His sweatpants are so soft and provide just the right amount of friction under your clit. You praise the Best Jeanist merch manufactures for chosing such a plush fabric.

“Mmm…good.” Shoto brings his mouth back down to latch onto one of your nipples and he plays you like a violin. Your breath hitches as you sing his praises and feel yourself get closer to your release. Ugh, you don’t want to come so quickly though. An idea strikes you.

“Take off your pants. But leave the underwear.” You say softly. Shoto’s eyes fly up from your boobs and meet yours. He looks as if you’ve made his day.

Shoto does as he’s told, moving you carefully off of him so he can strip. He’s wearing a thin pair of black boxers that hug his muscular thighs in the most delightful way. His dick is clearly hard - a rigid outline beneath the breathable fabric. You lick your lips with satisfaction, appreciating the way you can practically see him pulsing – eager for your touch.

You strip off your own pants, popping the button to your jeans and shimmying out of them. The time for grace and decorum is behind the two of you – right now you just want to do filthy, dirty things to Shoto and that hard cock of his.

Shoto looks up at you like you’re some kind of lovely teenage dream, his eyes glimmering as he takes you in. Your naked breasts bounce as you finally kick your feet out of your jeans. You’re wearing a cute pair of navy blue panties with the tiniest bow on the front. His jaw goes slack at the sight.

“I want to sit on that hard dick.” You say under your breath, moving to straddle Shoto once again. He seems to come back to himself a bit at the words. He looks up at you, a roguish smile playing at his lips as he adjusts himself, a strong hand stroking over his underwear.

“That wasn’t in English. Try again.” He holds up a hand, keeping you from wrapping yourself around him. You stamp your foot lightly in frustration, trying to search for the right English words through your cloudy, horny brain.

“Let me ride you.” You finally manage to translate in your head – short, sweet, to the point. Shoto opens his arms and invites you in, and you happily put yourself back in his lap. You lower yourself back on top of him. Without the extra layer of pants, you can feel so much more against your pussy. His hands fly to your hips and he begins to bounce you up and down on his clothed cock. You mewl unabashedly, enjoying the friction and the sensation of his dexterous fingers tweaking at your sensitive breasts.

“Feels…so…hard.” Basic English. Despite your brevity, you perfectly get the point across as you roll your hips so you can put more pressure on your clit.

You wrap your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck. He buries his face in your shoulder and lightly sucks on your delicate skin. “I might cum.” Shoto mumbles into your neck, gasping for breath. This spurs you on, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you with a shower of sparks in your pussy. It’s an absolute explosion in your cute little panties. You cry out, head back and eyes rolling as you feel the wetness pool between your folds, Shoto’s hard cock throbbing below the thin layers of underwear between you.

Shoto keeps his eyes glued to your features as you cum, as if he’s trying to commit your O-face to memory. He kisses your collarbone as you come down from your high, smiling smugly now that he’s pulled another orgasm out of you. You’re both overly hot and covered in sweat. You pull your hair out of your face and suck in a sharp breath as traces his hand up and down your back slowly.

“Can we stop using English now?” You ask in your native tongue, too exhausted to keep up the constant stream of translation.

“You’re allowed.” He says, shifting you off of his lap and onto the mattress next to him. “I’m surprised you kept it up for as long as you did.”

“You say that like I’m bad at English. I’ve had just as much practice in school as you have.”

Shoto casts his gaze to the side guiltily. “I may have had a slight advantage. My dad got me an English tutor when I started speaking. It’s basically native to me at this point.”

Oh, right. Shoto’s family is rich and his dad is Endeavor. Sometimes you forget that you grew up in completely different worlds.

“Well, it was a great challenge. I like seeing that side of you. It’s a little kinky.” You grin, pinching his soft cheek affectionately.

“What do you mean ‘kinky?’” He asks, frowning as he thinks back to the encounter you’ve just had.

“Like when you told me I had to play by your rules or you wouldn’t let me get on top of you…that was pretty hot. I kinda like it when you tell me what to do sometimes.” You say, a little embarrassed at the admission. Shoto think about this for a bit, mulling over your words.

“I’ll note that.” He smiles at you and leans back into his mattress. He’s shiny with sweat, his muscular chest glistening before you – he looks like some sort of ancient Greek god bathed in olive oil. Your eyes shoot down to his boxers where he’s still clearly hard, a tiny stain of pre-cum turning his underwear dark where the fabric rubs against the head of his dick. You’re struck with an idea.

“Hey Shoto…can you take off your underwear for me?”

He looks at you with bright eyes, clearly thrilled at the prospect. “Anytime you ask. Literally anytime, anywhere.”

“Hmmm…anytime, anywhere? What about in the teacher’s lounge? Or in the crowded cafeteria?” You joke, watching eagerly as he thumbs the waistband of his boxers.

“I mean it when I say I’d get arrested for public indecency for you.” He’s smiling so openly at you in that special way he does. You wonder for a moment if he means it…can the two of you get away with a fun sexy encounter somewhere semi-public? You’ve never thought of yourself as a voyeur, but with Shoto everything is hot and exciting.

He slides his boxers off and his cock springs free – hard and pulsing with need.

“You look so good, Shoto.” You can’t take your eyes off of his dick – it’s practically calling your name. “Stay there on the mattress.” You say, motioning for him to stay seated. You clamor onto the bedroll in your socks, stepping clumsily on the soft fabric. You plop yourself down behind him and bracket his body between your legs, scooting forward so that his back falls against your chest. You lean forward and kiss the defined planes of his trapezius muscles and feel him quiver beneath the touch. He’s so much taller than you, so you need to crane your neck to touch your lips to the smooth skin of his shoulder.

“Let’s try something new.” You say softly. “Would you be cool with that?”

Shoto turns his head a bit so he can glance down at you through the corners of his eyes. “If it’s with you? Yes, I’m cool with it.”

You feel your chest get all warm and fuzzy at the words.

“Alright – as always, tell me if you need to stop or take a break. And tell me if you don’t like something.” You say, sliding your hands around him to hug him at the middle. His bare back presses against your breasts, squishing them. You use your fingertips to blindly trace his toned chest and you hear his breath hitch as your fingers slide deftly down to his stomach. It’s a delicate dance – you want him to feel your desire for him through your fingertips alone before you even touch his cock.

You tease him and explore him, letting him relax some of his weight back into you as he leans into each touch. You’re sure this is the first time Shoto has been allowed to just…be. You can’t see his face but you know his eyes are likely blissed out and unfocused as you slither a hand down his stomach and across to one of his muscular thighs. You splay your fingers wide, squeezing at the taught muscle of his leg.

“You want me to touch you, Shoto?” You whisper, drawing your fingertips lightly up his inner thigh and towards his balls. “I can, if you’d like.”

Shoto mumbles something unintelligible in response.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words, sweetheart.” You coo, throwing in a term of endearment to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, God. Yes, please touch me.” He groans, his voice a bit louder than before. His body quivers and shudders underneath you as you draw your delicate touch up to his cock and wrap your fingers around it. He drops his head back onto your shoulder at the contact, and you make a mental note to sit against a wall for some back support next time you decide to do this.

You slowly start to pump at his cock with your right hand; each motion is gentle and leisurely. With your left, you trace stars into the sensitive skin just beneath his belly button.

“You know, I had a dream about you last night.” Shoto says through gritted teeth as you pump at him.

“Oh yeah? What kind of dream?” This surprises you – your stomach prickles with the thrill of it. Shoto Todoroki had a dream about you!?

“It was…ah!” He can’t get out a complete thought as your hands are doing too good a job. You slow your pace so he can finish his sentence. “…It was a sexual dream.”

“Is that right?” Your grinning wide, ecstatic that Shoto wants you so badly he’s dreaming about you. You want to press further, but you know that Shoto is close to release and you want to help him get there.

“Fuck, Y/N. Just like that.” He mumbles out as you pick up the pace a tiny bit. You pump at him the way he showed you, focusing on the head. You bring your left hand down to play with his balls a bit and he practically cries out your name.

“Shhh, Shoto.” You giggle. “We can’t get caught.” But you lean into his pleasure, playing with his balls and stroking his cock until he all but explodes in your hand.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N.” He pants out, voice low and thick with arousal. “You drive me…so crazy.” You smile and spread light kisses across his back and shoulders, all the while keeping your strokes even and focused. Finally, it’s too much for poor Shoto and he cums hard in your hand. You feel it spool through him, a powerful spark that rolls through his hips and out his cock. His body quakes lightly as he orgasms, thick white cum bubbling out of his dick and pooling in your fist as you continue to pleasure him. “A-ah!” He whimpers in ecstasy, his eyes falling shut as he continues to lean into you. You continue to indulge him, making sure to get every last bit of bliss out of him before you release his exhausted dick.

You press more kisses to his back, letting him slowly come back to himself. He sits up gradually, and pulls himself up from the mattress so he can clean off the thick layer of cum that’s covering his lap. He strides over to his dresser to grab towels for you both and you’re graced with an incredible view of Shoto Todoroki’s bare ass. It’s the cutest butt in the world – it looks slappable and juicy and you want to squeal with how hot he looks from the back. But you refrain.

A moment later, Shoto is naked and kneeling at your feet. He uses a towel to carefully wipe his ejaculate from your fingers before looking up at you with brilliant mismatched eyes.

“The things you do to me, Y/N.” He says in wonder, slowly rising from the ground so he can plant a kiss on your forehead on his way to deposit the sticky towel in his hamper. He grabs two pairs of clean boxers from his dresser. He tosses one to you before pulling on the other pair.

“What are these for?” You ask blankly, staring at the “Wash Hero!” brand boxer shorts.

“Oh. Well.” Shoto looks at you nervously. “I read that when girls get turned on and orgasm, they can get really wet. I thought maybe you’d want to borrow a pair of underwear to change into before you go.” You almost forgot how through Shoto could be with his research. “You don’t have to wear them – I just thought it might be more comfortable.”

He’s got a point. You’re sure you can make it back to your dorm room in your soaking panties, but the alternative Shoto’s offering up is a bit irresistible. You’re tired from the orgasm and you have so much more to get done before the party tonight. It would be nice to just slip on a pair of his boxers and move onto your next task without needing to worry about an underwear crisis.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” Shoto says awkwardly, turning away. You laugh, quickly swapping out your panties for his thick black boxers. He’s so much bigger than you; you thought that the fabric would be loose around your middle. Instead, the waistband is a bit tight and digs into your waist. You realize then how slim and tapered Shoto’s body is – how his thin waist nips in. His body is different and lacks the slight hip curves that you possess. You grab your bra and clip it back into place.

“What do you think?” You signal him to turn back around and he peeks over his shoulder. “Does your underwear look good on me?”

Shoto turns around fully and scans you head to toe with his intense gaze. “I didn’t realize I’d get turned on so much by seeing you in my clothes.” He says a bit flatly. “I’m going to need to do some thinking about this.”

“Well, I hate to ‘cum and go’ but I really should be getting onto my next party planning chore.” You laugh at your own pun, and after a moment Shoto chuckles too.

“You’re sure you can’t stay for a bit longer? I can make us tea.” Shoto says, gesturing at a small stack of fancy tea boxes resting on top of his dresser.

“No – but thank you, though! Will I see you at the party later?” You pull your shirt on over your head and flail your arms around until they catch in the sleeves.

“You think I’d miss a plan you’d masterminded? No way.” He says as he affectionately kisses your cheek.

“Can I get a rain check on post-coital tea and cuddling?” You ask, hastily hopping into your jeans.

“Anytime you want.” Shoto smiles at you serenely and pulls you in so he can plant a kiss on your cheek. “Also, Ashido has me helping Ida move around the common room furniture this afternoon.”

“Oh, right. You’ve been given a party chore as well!” You laugh, searching for where you’ve left your shoes. You see your panties on the floor and quickly scoop them up.

“I’m doing laundry in a bit, you can leave that in my hamper.” Shoto offers, reaching down to re-make his bed.

“Really? Shoto you’re the best!” You ruffle his hair as you toss your sticky underwear into the black fabric hamper across the room. Then you turn and inspect yourself in the mirror that hangs on the back of his door. You’re looking a bit rumpled, but nothing a shower and an outfit change can’t fix. “You gonna keep studying?”

Shoto looks at the stacks of books littering his room and makes a face. “I don’t know that I can go back to learning after that good a distraction. I might just get going on my laundry and chores for the week.”

“Very fair. But please don’t let me ruin your academic pursuits.” You pull the dorm door open quietly and take a quick look outside. Coast is clear. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You leave Shoto standing in his room in nothing but his underwear, blushing furiously as you sprint down the hall cackling softly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s 10:59am when Neito stands outside of Hitoshi’s door, hand primed to knock. He checks his phone repeatedly until it’s eleven o’clock on the dot.  He doesn’t want to seem too eager.

Hitoshi opens the door and smiles at him warmly. He’s wearing a pair of loose purple athletic shorts and a baggy black tee. He’s still toweling his wild hair, clearly fresh out of the shower. It takes all of Neito’s resolve not to lean in and smell the fresh shampoo scent that’s rolling off of Hitoshi’s body in sweet waves. He wishes he could press himself against his friend’s chest and breathe his aroma in deeply.

“Hey.” Shinsou says, stepping aside to let Neito into his room.

“How was your workout?” Monoma asks curiously, letting his mind run wild as he pictures Hitoshi shirtless. Hitoshi flexing his sweaty biceps. Hitoshi using the leg press machine with defined calves. Hitoshi bending him across the lifting bench aaaand –

“It was alright.” Hitoshi answers evenly, closing the dorm door behind them. “The gym was pretty crowded, so I mostly just did some pull ups and core training. You really should start coming with me more often.” He makes a face. “I don’t really like working out alone, it makes me self-conscious.”

Neito totally gets where he’s coming from – working out alone in a crowded gym of upperclassmen has always made his skin crawl. He hates the feeling of being judged and wondering if he’s doing something wrong or foolish in front of all the older students. To be fair, he has hit the gym with Hitoshi a few times before. But Shinsou is so goddamn hot when he lifts – his biceps have grown so much since the beginning of the year, and he grunts lightly when he gets into his reps. It’s practically sinful, and Neito feels guilty for thirsting over his unwitting friend during those workouts. So he pulled back a little. Hearing that Hitoshi is self-conscious to workout alone makes him feel a bit bad though – surely he can keep it in his pants for a weekly gym session? For Hitoshi’s sake?

“Yeah…maybe we go together next week? My Tuesday morning is pretty free.”

Hitoshi smiles at him, a soft angelic upturn of his lips. God, he’s beautiful. “Sounds like a plan.”

Neito drops himself down into one of Hitoshi’s comfy beanbag chairs and takes in the room – the décor is simple and sleek. He’s been to Hitoshi’s room quite a few times, but he is always impressed with the way his friend manages to keep everything so neat despite their wild class schedules.

Everything is black, grey and modern. Utilitarian Ikea furniture, a dark grey bedspread, a few framed black and white band photos. Everything in Hitoshi’s room is a bit muted, making his wild purple hair stand out no matter where he sits.

Monoma and Shinsou are both known for being intense in their own ways. But when its just the two of them hanging, they are both able to chill tf out. There’s no one to perform for, no classmates or teachers to impress. They don’t need to put on brave faces in front of each other. And that is maybe one of the things Neito loves most about their relationship – when he’s around Hitoshi, he can just be himself.

He’s shaken from his quiet thoughts when Hitoshi flops down on the floor next to him, holding his thick gaming laptop.

“Alright, I’ve got a solid start to the playlist. Take a look so far?” Hitoshi passes Neito his laptop. Monoma scrolls thorough the song selections and nods approvingly at the choices before adding on some of his own. One of the things that initially brought them together was their shared taste in music. Their friendship had started a bit rocky at first – Monoma overbearing and forcing Hitoshi to hang out with him, and Hitoshi convinced that he “wasn’t in the hero course to make friends.” After bonding during a few rough training sessions and late nights spent studying their way through classic rock albums, they had become inseparable. They had the kind of friendship where they truly matched each other’s freak.

“As always, you have great taste.” Neito says as he adds a few more songs in that compliment Hitoshi’s picks.

The voice quirk hero smiles at the compliment and shifts a bit closer to Neito so he can watch over his shoulder. Neito can feel Hitoshi’s hot breath lingering near his neck and nearly shivers at the closeness. He forces himself to concentrate on the task at hand, and not to turn his head towards Hitoshi’s lovely face.

“We literally have the same taste.” Hitoshi says softly, rolling his eyes. “We should really start expanding our sonic repertoire. Let’s go into town next weekend and grab something new from the record store.” Neito bites back a feral desire to say “It’s a date!” Instead, he nods. He’s thrilled that within the course of ten minutes, Hitoshi has set two intimate hangouts on the calendar for the following week.

Hitoshi really must value him as a friend to want to see him so much and that’s thrilling, of course. But part of Neito also wonders if Hitoshi also wants something more than friendship?

The two get along so easily and have so much in common, it is one of the strongest friendships that Neito has ever had. And it’s for that reason that he’s afraid to make a move and ruin things between them. A good friend is hard to come by, especially when you have such a…precocious personality. Especially when your quirk is so unique.

Neito darts a glance at Hitoshi. He has often mused that in the grand scheme of the Pro-Hero world, he and Hitoshi would likely be relegated to “side character” status. But he thinks that together, they could really be something great.

They spend a few minutes quibbling over song choices and the order of things. Hitoshi thinks they should start the evening with some slower paced tunes to ease the crowd into the party, while Neito feels that a few fast songs will start off the evening with a bang. They continue to prune and rearrange the playlist until they have something they are both satisfied with.

“What should we call it?” Neito finally works up the courage to turn to look fully at his friend and is disappointed that Hitoshi has shifted back into his own beanbag chair, further away.

“Well I’ve been thinking…strategically we shouldn’t call it ‘Party Playlist’ because that’s too obvious. What if we get caught by the teachers and need to deny our involvement? We need a playlist name that won’t seem too obvious.”

Neito laughs with glee – they are both taking this way too seriously. But that’s one of the things he likes about Hitoshi – he has a flair for the dramatic.

Neito pulls up a new tab on Hitoshi’s computer and logs onto an AI bot page. He quickly types in “Dramatic Illicit Activity Spotify Playlist Names” and a list populates. Hitoshi barks out a low, gravely laughs and starts to read some aloud.

“Okay I love ‘Whispers of the Forbidden’ and ‘Undercover Affairs.’ Definitely on the nose.”

Neito wrinkles his nose at the next few options. “Why are these all so romantic? ‘Veiled Desires’? ‘Stolen Moments?’ jeez.”

“Well.” Hitoshi says flatly. “Isn’t there going to be some weird kissing game at this party? Kind of makes sense I guess.”

Neito’s heart rate spikes at the mention of kissing. Hitoshi doesn’t seem to notice his sudden discomfort.

“Oh there’s a dramatic one…let’s call the playlist ‘Cloak and Dagger Melodies.’ And we can add a photo of a rose on a piano or something stupid. No one would ever guess that this is for a party.”

“Hitoshi. My dude.” Neito says dryly as he types in the name of the playlist. “Say that in a totally insane chain of events the UA faculty find this playlist with that weirdass name with a dramatic romance novel level image accompanying it. They’re going to think we have some weird 18th century vampire romance going on between the two of us.”

At this, Hitoshi throws back his head and laughs deeply. It’s one of those rumbling, full body laughs that leaves you gasping for breath and makes your stomach hurt afterwards. After a moment of surprise, Neito can’t help but join in. He loves Hitoshi’s gravely, deep laugh. He loves even more that he’s able to draw it out of his purple haired classmate.

“I like that.” Hitoshi wheezes out, finally able to breathe again. “You know what, I hope the faculty finds our party playlist. And I pray that it causes them concern because they think that Neito Monoma and Hitoshi Shinsou have some spooky vampire romance going on, centered around creating dramatic 80s Spotify playlists together. Some couples write love letters. We create curated passionate listening experiences.”

This statement forces them both into a fit of giggles again, and Neito feels like he just might die at the thought of creating couples playlists with Hitoshi. He knows his friend is joking, but he feels his heart flutter at the feel of it. Neito and Hitoshi. Romantic playlist vampires. Hearts stitched together by Spotify’s “Create a Jam” option.

“So what do you think about this…kissing thing?” Hitoshi asks him slowly, and Neito feels the blood in his veins run cold. Shit. Is Hitoshi onto him? Could he know about how Neito made a deal with the girls in Class A – that he’s helping with the party in order to get a chance to play Spin The Bottle with Hitoshi?

Admittedly, Neito had started to help the girls out of pure selfishness. Sure, he had felt bad for ruining the girls’ first party. But ultimately he had apologized and offered to help out if it meant that he could have a chance at smooching his beloved purple haired hero in training. Unexpectedly, the more he collaborated with the Class 1A ladies on their party planning, the more he felt himself having a change of heart.

As it turns out, Mina, Toru and Y/N are fun and chill and meshed really well with Neito’s dramatic, whimsical personality. They are easy to talk to, and they genuinely seem to like having him around. The unexpected friendships he’s formed while planning this party are invaluable to him in a way he can’t quite explain. Even if Neito doesn’t get to kiss Hitoshi, he thinks that involving himself with the illicit party planning committee has been worth the risk. He has more friends now. Friends who accept him as he is.

He takes a deep breath. “What do you mean?” He fires back at Hitoshi, trying to turn around the conversation on his friend. He tries to keep his tone casual.

Hitoshi blinks, and then leans back into his beanbag chair and stares up at the ceiling. “I was wondering if you’re going to participate.”

“Oh.” Neito quickly realizes that Hitoshi’s participation in the game was never a given, so he has to do some convincing to keep his kissing scheme on track. “Yeah, I was thinking about it. It could be fun. I don’t really see a downside to it, to be honest.”

Hitoshi hums in response, still staring up at the ceiling.

“What about you?” Neito presses, searching Shinsou’s face for any hint of what he’s thinking.

“I dunno. It certainly could be interesting.” Hitoshi shifts into a more comfortable position in the bean bag, then glances at Neito through the corners of his eyes. “Have you ever…kissed anyone before?”

The question takes Neito by surprise. He answers instantly, honestly. “No, I haven’t.”

“Hm.” Hitoshi grunts neutrally. He still doesn’t display any emotion. “I guess this game is an easy way to get your first kiss out of the way. Unless you get someone you don’t like. Or if you get embarrassed kissing in front of all your classmates.”

“Oh. I didn’t really think of that.” Truly, Neito hadn’t really factored in that most of Classes A and B will be in attendance at this event. This whole time he had a one track mind focused on creating an opportunity where he and Hitoshi would be squashed together in a potentially romantic way.

“Yeah. If it were me, I’d want my first kiss to be in private.” Hitoshi says thoughtfully, turning his face back to the sky.

“You’ve kissed someone before?” The words tumble from Neito’s mouth before he can stop them, an almost accusatory twinge in his voice.

Hitoshi sort of…smirks at this. “I’ve had a few kisses, yeah.”

“Are you kissing anyone currently?” Neito can’t help himself. He cringes at his words.

“Well, seeing as no one’s attached to my lips right now…”

“You know what I mean.” Neito snaps. He’s quickly digging a hole for himself.

“No, I’m not currently seeing anyone.” Hitoshi snorts. “But I have had a few kisses. I didn’t mean to make you self conscious since you haven’t had a kiss yet.” His apology is sincere. Neito feels relief flow through him as he realizes that Hitoshi thinks he’s jealous because he hasn’t had his first kiss yet. Hitoshi doesn’t realize Neito is jealous of whoever has kissed Hitoshi. He decides to play into the misunderstanding.

“Maybe this Spin the Bottle game is exactly what I need to get my first kiss out of the way then, yeah? Any tips for me?”

Hitoshi turns his head so he can fully look at Neito. The sharp attention of Hitoshi’s dark gaze practically gives Neito a hard on, and he shifts the laptop a bit to cover his pants.

“Don’t put so much pressure on it, Nei. Anyone would be lucky to get to kiss you.”

Neito feels his cheeks heat up in a blush at the compliment.

Hitoshi notices his discomfort. “Listen…I’ll play, too. If it would help. I’ll cheer you on.”

Neito nods gratefully and they get back to chatting music. It’s infuriating how in some moments, Hitoshi seems kind of in to him. But then others, he’s clearly just trying to be a good friend. Can there ever be more than friendship between them? Neito prays that Mina will be able to pull through her part of their bargain. If the bottle lands on Hitoshi during Spin The Bottle, there are two options – either Hitoshi will kiss him and make it clear that he’s interested, or he’ll laugh it off and tell Neito to re-spin.

Neito takes a deep, calming breath as Hitoshi rattles off some facts about 80s New Wave music.

All will be revealed later that night at the party. All he has to do is wait.

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You get back to your dorm a little worse for wear – your legs are still a bit shaky from your mid-morning romp, and you’re covered in sweat. Your hair is an absolute mess. You still have a few “party chores” left to execute. You and the girls have purchased black vinyl tablecloths from the local convenience store, and you need to cut them to size and tape them into the windows to black out the light. You don’t want any passersby looking up into the dorm building and catching sight of a raucous unsanctioned party. You also have a few sets of streamers that need to be hung.

You quickly change into a pair of sweatpants and gather the necessary supplies, digging through your desk drawer to find a sharp pair of scissors and your tape.

Your phone buzzes on your bed and you look up – is it Shoto? Or maybe the Secret Party Planning Committee (which has now been expanded to include You, Mina, Toru, Neito, Mineta, and Mei Hatsume – a bizarre group, for sure!).

You grab your phone and flip it over so you can see the screen.

Oh – it’s Honenuki!

Honenuki: Hey Y/N, how’s it going?

Y/N: I’m good! Just getting some decorations together for tonight. Hbu?

Honenuki: That sounds dope – I’m so excited for the party! Anything I can help with?

Y/N: If you could bring a snack like chips or pretzels that would be super helpful!

Honenuki: Awesome, will do! QQ – is there a dress code?

Y/N: Nope – just wear what makes you feel comfortable!

Honenuki: Any idea what you’ll be wearing?

Y/N: Not sure yet – maybe a skirt or something like that? You know, party clothes.

Honenuki: I bet you’ll look cute no matter what you decide to wear. See you later!

You put the phone back down on your bed, a blush creeping up into your cheeks. What an odd thing for him to say? Is he…flirting with you? Nah, Honenuki is just super cool and chill, he probably was just paying you a nice compliment to keep your spirits high. Right?

But there’s no time to worry about this – you’ve got work to do! You quickly grab your things and make a beeline for the common area. Your arms are full of party supplies and your mood is high after your half hour spent with Todoroki. This is really turning out to be the best day – you can’t wait for the party!

A few students are hitting the books in the common room, but easily come to your aid when they see you enter the space with hands full of streamers and tape. Tokoyami offers to hang up the streamers with the help of Dark Shadow, and you gratefully accept the help. You didn’t realize how high the ceilings are, so you’re appreciative of Dark Shadow’s ability to reach the rafters.

You get to work measuring and cutting the vinyl tablecloths to fit the common room’s many windows. Shoji joins you and lends a few hands. Between you, Shoji and Tokoyami, your preparation is done within an hour.

“Dang – thanks guys! That was a lot of work!” You wipe the sweat off of your forehead and admire the common area. It’s strange to see the windows covered in black vinyl during midday – the afternoon light shines through the hangings in a strange, muted way. Between that and the red yellow and blue streamers winding around the room – the common area looks like a particularly festive haunted house.

“Perfect for revelry in the dark.” Tokoyami intones passionately as he takes in the results of your labor.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” You say weakly. Tokoyami is so nice and a great friend, but sometimes he can be a little spooky. You aren’t quite sure what to make of his comments sometimes.

“This looks great, Y/N. We’ll see you later for the party – I’m going to go finish up my homework ahead of time.” Shoji says, strolling off to his dorm room. “See you all later!”

You leave as well, ready for a much-deserved shower and hour of primping.

As you get back to your dorm room for the second time today, your phone buzzes and this time it really is Shoto.

Shoto: Y/N – look what came in the mail.

He’s attached a picture. You smile as you click open the image.

It’s…a selfie!? It’s an image of Shoto’s cute face squished against a fuzzy blue stuffed animal. He’s got that characteristic soft smile as he looks at the mid-sized blue whale plush excitedly. 

Y/N: OMG!! Who is this!?

Shoto: It’s a plush I ordered online. I want to start a collection like yours. This one is a whale from a company called Jelly Cat.

Y/N: SHOTO!! It’s so cute omg – just like you!!

Y/N: What are you going to name it!?

Shoto: What do you mean

Y/N: You need to give it a name. Like…something that matches its energy I guess?

Shoto: Squirtle

Y/N: Nope.

Shoto: How about Kuchihiro?

Y/N: Oh yes. That’s funny.

Shoto: Glad you approve

Y/N: Where will he live?

A second image pops up on your screen almost instantly. You click it to expand the picture on your phone screen. It’s another pic of the whale plush – Kuchihiro – perched on top of Shoto’s bed roll and pillows. It lists to the side a bit and stares at the camera with blank, embroidered inky eyes. It’s adorable.

Shoto: He wants to be your friend.

Y/N: Tell him I’ll need to come visit him soon.

Shoto: He asked if you’d like to have a slumber party soon. He said you can bring Squirtle.

Y/N: Squirtle and I are in. We can see if Kuchihiro is cool enough for Squirtle Squad membership.

Shoto: I can guarantee that he qualifies for Squirtle Squad membership.

A new image comes through and you open it – you laugh so hard at the visual you almost fall over. Shoto’s taken another selfie with the whale plush, but this time – they are BOTH WEARING SUNGLASSES!!! Shoto has somehow acquired garishly sharp old lady sunglasses that resemble the glasses worn by Squirtle in the Pokémon TV show. His dedication to this bit is truly unmatched. You use your fingers to zoom in on the image – Shoto and the whale have identical blank expressions as they both “stare” into the camera lens. It’s hilarious and iconic and one again you’re surprised by Shoto’s sense of humor. You’re laughing so hard you can barely type out a text reply.

Y/N: SHOTO I CANNOT

Y/N: I AM LAUGHING SO HARD IM LOSING MY MIND

Y/N: YOU ARE PERFECT AND HILARIOUS AND I NEED YOU TO NEVER CHANGE

In response, Shoto sends though four emojis: A Whale. A Turtle. The Smiley Face With Sunglasses.

And a heart.

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Dusk is setting in, the sun slipping low beneath the dorm buildings of UA. The trees surrounding the campus rustle with a light breeze, and the energy around the school is one of calm.

A ragtag group of students has gathered in the center of the academic quad, shoes squelching in the dewy grass. They surround the school’s singular flagpole, which stands thirty feet high and is anchored to the ground with concrete. All of the flags have been retired for the evening so it stands empty, looking like a tall sewing needle against the fabric of the star-strewn evening sky.

Mina, ever the leader, stands with her hands on her hips as she looks up at the tall pole that marks the center of campus.

“Alright, team. It’s now or never. Is everyone ready?”

You, Toru and Neito cheer quietly. Mineta looks up at the flagpole apprehensively.

“I’m not so sure about this.” He mutters, his lisp prominent.

“Well it’s too late to back out now!” Mina says, slapping him lightly on the back. But then she pivots to a kinder approach. “Listen, Hatsume’s plan is way better than the one we originally discussed. She’s got a bunch of gadgets and gizmos that are going to make this much safer and take the strain off of you.”

Mineta gulps, his eyes never leaving the pole.

“Speaking of Hatsume – where is she?” You ask, looking around the quad searchingly.

“She said she’d be here.” Neito shrugs. “Probably wanted to make a grand entrance with one of her support items.”

He’s absolutely right. Moments later, a loud mechanical roar hits your ears.

“Didn’t you tell her to be discreet!?” Toru shrieks at Neito over the sound of whirring engines.

“You can’t put limits on artistry!” Neito calls out as he covers his ears to shield them from the noise that’s growing louder by the second. Seconds later, the source of the sonic barrage appears. And, yes, it’s Hatsume. She’s jetting towards you all on her insanely large metallic antigravity boots.

“Didn’t she damage those during the Sports Festival?” You yell over the din. “I don’t remember them being so goddamn loud!”

The roar of the boot motors hit a crescendo as Mei Hatsume hovers above you all. Her pink hair shines in the light of the rapidly rising moon. She’s wearing her usual bright goggles as well as a wild grin. She leans forward to smack at a button on the side of her boot and they seem to shut down. She plummets to the ground but lands soundly on the balls of her feet. A large bag of loot is flung over her right shoulder. She looks like some kind of bizarre cross between Inspector Gadget and Santa Claus.

She spreads her left arm wide. “Ta-dah! Newly functional anti-gravity boots by me, Mei Hatsume!”

You all stand there looking at her, stunned. Finally, you break the silence.

“Hatsume…your flying looked great but those boots are loud AF. This is a secret operation.”

“Eh, I’m still working out the kinks on these babies.” She knocks at them with her fist and a hollow sound reverberates into the night. The key to being a good designer is to just keep pushing through, even when there are challenges! And the challenge right now is dampening the sound.” She kicks off the boots and you’re surprised to see she’s wearing comfortable sneakers underneath. She tosses her loot bag to the ground and you all eye it curiously. “I am sorry about all the noise, though. But I tracked all the teachers and no one is in the dorm area right now, so there was little risk of me using the loud boots.”

“…you tracked the teachers?” Toru says weakly. “Does that mean you…?”

“Yup! I currently have all of the on-campus staff tagged with secret GPS tracking chips!” Hatsume says proudly. “I thought this little plan of yours could be the perfect time to test out my new discreet tracing system.”

“Hatsume…I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.” You say. She’s so crazy. This is insane. You’re all going to get caught and expelled for invasion of privacy or something.

“It’s all in the name of learning!” She says vividly as she starts to dig through her bag. “Alright – where’s the little grape one?”

“I have a name!” Mineta pipes up, despite his clear fear of Hatsume and her bag of tricks. She looks over at him and her eyes glint. “It you didn’t have such great tits, I wouldn’t have agreed to this.” He stares at Hatsume’s ample chest and Mina delivers a sharp smack to the back of his head. His grape-ball-hair thingies bounce with the impact and he wines in pain.

“Do you want me to do this for you or not!?” He cries out, rubbing at the back of his head irritably.

“We already made a deal. Be respectful to Hatsume or the deal’s off. We can figure something else out.” You bluff, glaring down at the little creep.

He leers up at you. “Fine. But just know I can taste your lips already.” He runs his tongue along his mouth in a disgusting gesture.

“Oh, I don’t care what he says!” Hatsume says excitedly as she starts to pull various devices and gadgets out from her bag. “As long as he lets me test out my babies on him, it doesn’t matter!”

Mineta’s eyes bulge with nerves and you pat him on the head soothingly. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen. She’s going to follow our plan and then after a while Mr. Vlad King will rescue you.” Your hand bounces back as you pat his bouncy purple hair (?).

“Ugh.” Minetta makes a face of disgust as he looks between Hatsume, her bag of tricks, and the tall AF flagpole. “You’d better come through on your end of the deal here, Y/N. No kiss, no diversion.”

“I know, I know.” You roll your eyes and cock your hip to the side. “You do this for us, and I’ll give you the best little smooch of your creepy little life.” Apparently, that’s all that needed to be said. Mineta shuts up and the two of you watch as Neito, Toru and Mina hilariously attempt to help Hatsume set up all her contraptions and tools.

“Question for you, Grape Juice.” You throw in his hero name to be nice. “Why’d you pick me? For this kiss exchange, I mean.”

Minetta seems surprised by this question. “I thought it was obvious. It’s because you’re the nicest. Duh.” He scratches absentmindedly at his chin as the two of you watch the chaotic scene before you. Everyone in the group has the potential to be a great hero…and yet, they are each so silly and dramatic. You smile at them fondly as they toss around stray tools and gears, trying to support Hatsume as best they can.

“You think…I’m the nicest.” You say slowly, rolling the idea around your mind.

“Mina is hot, but she’s too demanding most of the time. Toru is overly dramatic. There’s no chance in hell that either of them would give me so much as a side-glance, let alone a kiss, if I asked. And then there’s you – you’re always nice and trying to be my friend even though I can be a huge pain in the ass. I dunno…I just had a feeling that you’d say yes if I asked for a kiss.” He doesn’t look at you as he says this. He keeps watching the chaos unfold as Hatsume throws a screwdriver at Neito’s face. The Phantom Thief expertly dodges, but starts squabbling with Mei as he gestures wildly at all of her gear.

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say. You never imagined that Minoru Mineta of all people could be touched by kindness. He can be such a creepy asshole most of the time. “That’s…oddly sweet?” You rub your arms in discomfort.

“Forget I said anything.” Mineta looks your way and shrugs. “To be completely honest, the reason I chose you is because I’m a depraved horny dude and you’re an easy mark.”

“That sounds more like the Mineta I know.” You say, rolling your eyes. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” You march towards your bickering friends and pull up your shirtsleeves.

It takes a good twenty minutes to assemble all of the devices properly.

“Alright, grape boy! Get on in.” Hatsume smiles widely as she holds up a small Minetta-sized harness. The pop off hero in training gives her a look of terror.

“How do I know that thing is safe? It looks like it’s made of old frayed rope.” Minetta eyes the harness uncertainly.

“It’s made of state-of-the-art synthetic dyneema. The strongest material in the world. It will keep you from falling and won’t tare apart – no matter how rough things get. I only made it look like cheap rope to keep up our ruse.” Her eyes are wild and remind you of that crazy look Neito is known to have. “Vlad King will take one look at this harness and he’ll assume another student tied you up. A student with less…sophisticated…knowledge of support items.”

Minetta reluctantly takes the harness and steps into it, buttoning it closed across his chest. You let out a low whistle – the strappy outfit really makes it look like someone’s haphazardly tied him up. Hatsume is a genius.

“Okay now for the next part – I’m going to clip you to this drone baby and it will take you up to the top of the flagpole. Then I’ll release all of my other magnetic babies and they will follow you up. Once everything is secured on the flagpole, I’ll go sit in one of the trees and remotely operate everything.”

“That’s where I come in!” Neito says excitedly. “Kendo and I will go and frantically flag down Mr. Vlad King while he’s on his patrol. We’ll tell him to come quick and help Mineta. We’ll say that it looks like one of the upperclassmen got fed up with his pervy ways and decided to string him up on the flagpole to teach him a lesson. A nasty trick!”

“And as soon as Mr. King tries to rescue Mineta…boom.” Hatsume pulls up an iPad and opens an app that floods the screen with digital buttons and controls. “I’ll battle him with my babies and see how long my support items can stand up to a Pro Hero.” She cackles delightedly. You once again wonder if you’re all taking this way too far.

“I feel like you’re forgetting that I’m going to be up there!” Mineta calls out nervously. “What if your support shit hurts me?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll manually operate everything so you stay safe. And I’ll even let you down once I’ve had my fun!” Hatsume hoots as she hits a bunch of buttons on her device. Instantly, the support items littering the ground clatter to life. Shiny metallic objects with tiny arms and spikes and claws begin to rise off the ground – some begin to hover, others rise up on tiny mechanical legs.

“This is so creepy!” Mineta wails as the wave of tiny drones and gadgets begin to circle around the flagpole’s base. You all ignore him.

“I can guarantee you one hour of distraction.” Hatsume laughs, a bit unhinged. “Two hours if Mr. King doesn’t call for backup.”

“Hatsume, I know I asked for your expertise here – but I’m a little disheartened in how much you’re underestimating my teacher.” Neito says a bit stiffly. “He’s a Pro Hero. It should take him all of ten minutes to defeat a few flying toasters and save a boy strung up a flagpole.”

“Ha. That’s where you’re wrong, blondie. After you told me that Vlad King would be involved, I modified these babies with his quirk and fighting style in mind. A good support item designer should always construct her devices to suit the situation at hand!” Monoma still seems unconvinced, but its too late now. You all just need to trust in Hatsume’s mad scientist capabilities.

“How are you going to avoid being caught?” Toru asks Hatsume nervously.

“Oh, I’ve got a nifty little cloaking device baby that will help me blend into the trees. No one will ever see me. Once the teachers rescue Mineta, I’ll disappear back to the dorms.” She wiggles her hands in front of her face in an attempt at looking spooky. Instead, with her wide eyes and stretched grin, she looks a little deranged. “Oh! But you’ll need to take my antigravity boots back with you and stash them away for the night.”

“What!?” Mina looks at her incredulously. “They’re not a part of the plan? Why’d you even bring them then?”

“I needed to fit in a quick test flight today – plus they looked super cool when I was flying in, right?”

You all nod weakly, eager to take a break from her chaos. You reach down and scoop an antigravity boot into your arms. It’s heavy as hell. Toru grabs the other boot and her legs buckle a bit under its weight, her pants bend tellingly at the knee.

“We should really get going, guys.” Mina says, checking her phone for the time. “Everyone will be arriving soon!”

“Alright, you ready Mineta?” You ask your classmate. His face is pale white as he looks up the tall flagpole, but you can tell he’s already committed himself to this task. And to receive your kiss.

“I can just taste your lips already.” He says, but the jibe is half-hearted. Hatsume clips a carabineer to his harness and attaches the other end to one of her drones. An instant later, Mineta is lifted off the ground and rapidly rising into the air. Using the controls on her iPad, Hatsume guides the drone up, up, up and to the top of the flagpole.

The little perv reaches out and grabs the top of the flagpole with little effort. Mineta looks down at you all and flashes a quick thumbs up. He grabs a few purple balls from his head and uses them to secure his body to the pole. Once he’s safely fastened, he waves.

“Alright Mineta!” Neito calls up to him, cupping your hands around his mouth to project his voice. “You know the plan! When you see Kendo start to run over from the dorms with Mr. King, start yelling for help. Once Mr. King tries to get you down, Hatsume will activate all of the booby trap drones she’s assembled on the flag pole.”

Mineta nods and gives another thumbs up to indicate his alignment.

“Hatsume – you ready?” You turn to the support course prodigy, her boot weighing heavily in your arms.

“Yes, ma’am!” Hatsume gives you a big thumbs up as well. “Let’s do this!” She hustles off to her hiding place in a nearby tree. You watch as she pulls herself up into its branches with surprising strength. She pulls out her iPad and hits a few buttons before her form disappears into the leaves like a chameleon. Must be that cloaking device she mentioned.

“Alright everyone.” You flash a grin at your friends. “Let’s pull off the craziest secret party the school dorms have ever seen.”

End of Chapter 6

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Links To All The Previous Parts:

Part 1: Linked Here

Part 2: Linked Here

Part 3: Linked Here

Part 4: Linked Here

Part 5: Linked Here

My Master List

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Author Notes:

OH YES I FINALLY DID IT I FINALLY POSTED PART 6!!! I hope it lived up to expectations! We are really building up to the party scenes now, aren't we!? I feel like every chapter I say you're gonna see the party + spin the bottle next but then I come up with a ton of other ideas and characters and exposition that I want to throw in along the way! I really love Hitoshi and Monoma so yup, they are getting a little fun sexy storyline in Shoto's First Kiss! There is another couple pairing I'm going to give special treatment to as well, but you're gonna need to wait and see for that one...Anyways! I hope you liked this latest installment and that it was satisfying after the long wait! I am going through a really crazy health thing right now and have spent the past 3 months poked and prodded with needles and wedged in MRI machines so this story hasn't been my top priority. However, it has been a lovely reprieve! Please comment if you liked it - my partner and I love reading through everyone's goofy comments and they make us smile! Anyways, until next time! Sending good vibes to all!

XOXO,

❤️ Red Riot Unbreakable Heart

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Want to join or be removed from the tag list - let me know! Once again, this is an ADULT ONLY blog. The IcyThot club is exclusively dedicated to the Shoto's First Kiss series and will only include A18+. Do not request to be added unless you are over 18. If your blog is ageless/your age isn't listed in the bio you cannot be an IcyThot member! I'm also adding the "sexual content" label/tags.

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