#this one looks the most lavish and eye catching

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

I watch both shows and there were certainly times in Rome when you could tell it was also shot on a cramped soundstage. Sure they spent a lot of money on that central plaza set (which often still had to be enhanced with CGI), but it was obvious that cash was being saved elsewhere, which is why all the big battles happened off screen. Rome also had one central location whereas Rings of Power has several. But really, anyone who says they watch this show and can't see where the money is being spent is just lying their ass off.

[loveanddeepthroat]

Trouble

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - As it turned out, lavish events in the N109 Zone were not quite your thing, and this one did nothing but prove it. You weren’t looking for trouble, but it often had a way of finding you.

Word Count - 6.4k

Warning - MDNI. 18+. Oral sex f!receiving. Fingering. Light bondage. Mention of murder.

You were in trouble.

Not that it was immediately bothering you. You were having a good time—it wasn’t your fault that the rest of your companions were quite clearly not.

And besides, it wasn’t as if you were breaking any rules. Sylus had simply advised that you remain where he and the twins could see you upon your arrival at the lavish event, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

Whilst you watched a delectable cocktail being made for you at the bar as per a stranger's request, the three sets of eyes in various places around the room burned holes in your head as they watched you and the nameless man like a hawk. You only threw a few glances at each of them, catching Luke waving the tips of his fingers against his neck in a warning to get away from the guy.

You did no such thing, however. Listening to people kissing Sylus’s ass to stay out of his warpath had quickly bored you half to death, and some stimulation was very necessary for your withering attention span. You didn’t think much of the man who had approached you at the bar. He was dressed up like every other guy in the room, but he held a familiar air of dominance around him. Just as a certain silver haired man fuming a dozen metres away did.

The man ordered you what he deemed as being the best cocktail you would ever drink, along with an identical one for himself. One sip had led to another, your glass completely drained in a matter of a few seconds. He had another one raring to go before your glass landed back on the mahogany bar.

“Didn’t I tell you? The perfect cocktail.” The slight grin he shot you revealed two golden teeth that replaced his natural canines. You imagined the man would be quite intimidating to look at for most, but you took down Wanderers for a living. He’d need to do a lot more than flash his expensive gold fangs at you to make you feel threatened.

Not that you were getting that impression from him in the first place. He actually seemed rather pleasant.

“It’s delicious,” you agreed, already starting on the second.

He perched himself on the stool beside you, taking a sip of his own as he studied you for a moment. “You came with Sylus, huh?”

You nod, not seeing any harm in answering truthfully. “Is it obvious?”

The man chuckled. “His eyes are like lasers through my skull,” he crooned. He turned his head to wiggle his fingers in greeting to your companion. You didn’t dare turn to look in the same direction. “So, what are you doing on your little lonesome, darling?”

A shiver ran up your spine at the pet name. It was almost as if Sylus had caused it as a warning to you. You could feel his patience thinning by the second.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you responded, starting to feel a bit like a worm in the sights of a crow. 

Although you weren’t entirely sure which of the two men were making you feel so much pressure all of a sudden.

A blaringly obvious hand shot in the air a little distance behind the silver-eyed man beside you, catching your attention. Kieran had attracted more than just your attention as he threw his thumb back over his shoulder, eagerly coaxing you away from the man.

It was time to wrap things up.

You finally took the hint and slipped off of the barstool and onto your stilettos, your movement mirrored by the man before you. A large hand landed upon your shoulder, causing you to freeze up. At first, you thought it was his hand clamped there, but the sheer size and strength as it gave you a small squeeze was immediately recognisable.

Sylus.

Putting your face in one of the large fireplaces in the room sounded more appealing than looking up at him at that moment, so you kept your gaze on the sly smirk now spreading across the shorter male’s face.

“Sylus. It’s about time our paths crossed tonight,” he crooned. Gone was the admittedly quite charming face you had been accompanied by, replaced with one that could be compared to that of a viper. 

This man was not someone you should have engaged with.

Sylus’s firm grip remained on your tensed shoulder, anchoring you to him. His voice was cool and indifferent, like he was already bored by the idea of conversing with the individual.

“If you fancied my attention, Frank, all you had to do was say,” he drawled.

Frank cocked his head to the side, his silver eyes dropping to your chest. You suddenly felt a little overexposed in the plunged neckline of your fitted black dress.

“I was just on my way to you when I stumbled upon a lonely little stray,” Frank purred, his cold, lingering gaze finally flickering back up to your face.

Hiding the disgust in your expression was difficult, but you had a feeling it would be wise to at least try. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the twins standing together, watching the situation unfold. They were always ready to get involved if required.

Sylus chuckled, not one iota of humour in it. “I didn’t take you for the type of man to take pity on a stray kitten,” he said flatly. “Especially one with its collar on.”

He slipped a long finger into the chain of your ruby encrusted choker, giving it the smallest of tugs. You didn’t hate it, and honestly, you felt it more in the pit of your stomach than you did in your neck. Now didn’t seem like the time to think on that, mind.

The backs of his fingers smoothed over your racing pulse as he pulled the digit back out of the small space in your tight neckpiece. You shivered quite noticeably, the sensation awakening the pulse between your thighs.

“As you can see, this one is already taken care of.”

You didn’t miss the flare of hostility in Frank’s silver eyes as he followed every movement of Sylus’s hand—even as it moved to hang from his trouser pocket with his thumb tucked inside.

“Maybe you should keep her on a shorter leash. Anyone could have gotten their hands on her,” Frank said tightly. It sounded awfully identical to a threat. “This is hardly the room full of people you would want to lose such a precious little thing in.”

Sylus didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed your arms and moved you to the side, away from Frank’s cold glare. Before you could even react, two strong arms either side of you hooked your arms with their elbows.

Luke and Kieran practically dragged you away, your feet struggling to keep up. As soon as you were released from their bone crushing clamps for inner elbows, you turned back to the interaction you were just kidnapped from.

Only to find the space completely empty.

“Okay, either you’re blind or really, really stupid,” Luke scolded.

You frowned back at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?”

“No, we won’t excuse you,” he snapped. “We’ve spent the last ten minutes thinking up different ways to dispose of your body after Frank was done with you.”

“Honestly, woman. Do we have to take you over the basic commands, again? I looked like a tool flapping my arms at you!” Kieran chimed in, looking like he was telling off a toddler.

Unsure whether it was the alcohol or their incessant rambling, you were starting to feel quite overwhelmed. You weren’t sure what they had seen differently while you were sitting with Frank, but you knew that the man had to have had a sinister intention for occupying you.

“Wait, wait,” you cut them off as Luke started to scold you again. “Shouldn’t we go find them?”

They both stared at you for a moment before bursting into obnoxious laughter. You weren’t sure what the joke was, but you were confident you wouldn’t find it funny even if you did.

If Sylus had gone off alone with the unfriendly man, then surely he would need the three of you there, too.

“You’re lucky you still have a tongue in your mouth to be able to make dumbass suggestions like that,” Luke sneered, still shaking from his chuckles.

You clenched your fists at your sides, irritated by their insults. How were you supposed to know that Golden Teeth was an enemy? You weren’t exactly well versed in the good and the bad when it came to attending events in the N109 Zone.

If they were that concerned, they could have remained beside you.

Each minute that passed without a visual on Sylus felt like an eternity, but in reality, only three minuscule minutes went by before he emerged from a door beside the bar.

His facial expression gave away absolutely nothing, but the red split in his lip did. You swallowed as you watched his tongue peak out to run over the small laceration, followed by the pad of his thumb. It disappeared in an instant at his touch.

You began to walk towards him, curious about what the hell had just happened, and if Frank was still breathing. Before you could open your mouth, however, he bent at the waist the second he got close to you, his shoulder connecting with your stomach as he hauled you off of your feet.

“What the—what the fuck are you doing?!”

He did not dignify you with a response as he stormed towards the exit, his solid arm squeezing your knees into his ribs as you started to assault his back. 

“Put. Me. Down,” you grit between harsh slaps to his back. You might as well have been flicking his ear for all the difference it was making.

He carried you straight out of the building and towards the matte black saloon car Kieran had driven you all in earlier that evening. You were utterly furious and embarrassed, doing everything in your power to wriggle out of his hold.

“I can walk!”

Sylus snorted. Snorted, like it was funny. No humour lay in his tone as he spoke, though. “Well that’s a little hard to believe.”

You whacked his muscled back again. “Meaning?!”

He yanked open the back door of the car, practically dropping you into it on your back. You felt it again, at the worst possible time.

That flutter of lust in your core.

It was something about the way he stood over you as you panted from the physical exertion of trying to fight his spine. He must’ve been able to see up the short skirt of your dress, and you hoped to god he didn’t spot any indication of your arousal on the cherry red thong you were wearing.

“Meaning, you had plenty of opportunity to use these apparent walking skills when your safety was threatened,” he growled, moving your legs so he could slam the car door, not interested in anything you had to say back.

You huffed as you pushed down on the unfolded mass of clothes in your backpack, trying to fit them all in.

It had been hours since you all got back from the absolute disaster of a night, and you had been holed up in the room you were occupying since then. Part of you expected Sylus to come and explain what the hell his problem had been, but he didn’t.

The longer you sat and dwelled on it, the more you wanted to go home. You only came to stay because he’d asked you to attend the event with him. He hadn’t mentioned that you were expected to stay by his side like an obedient dog. Nor had he bothered to mention the types of people you were to avoid.

Not only were you pissed at him, but you were pissed at the fact that he’d made you feel a certain way. Who in their right mind gets aroused by a man embarrassing you by hauling you out of a room full of people—likely with your bare ass on show. 

Scientists would have a field day with your brain.

And although you hated to admit it, it wasn’t the first time you had felt that familiar feeling of lust at his touch. The last time you had stayed, you had to relieve yourself in the shower after training with him in the ring. Every inch of him was sculpted with perfect precision, almost as if an architect had dedicated their life to working on his blueprint.

If you were being honest, you weren’t bothered about the event he wanted you to attend when he’d asked you to join him. You just wanted to see him.

But at the end of the day, you had no idea where you belonged in his world. In Linkon, a friendly face buying you a drink wasn’t something to be feared. It was exhausting having to recluse whenever you accompanied him anywhere. 

The clasps of your bag struggled as you tried and failed to clip them together. You had no idea how you were getting back to your apartment, but you were confident in your ability to just suck it up and figure it out. Even if you had to trek there in your most expensive pair of (uncomfortable) stilettos.

You slipped your feet out of them, throwing your barely closed bag over your shoulders before picking the silky, red shoes up. They’re far too noisy against Sylus’s marble floor for you to be able to slip out without being accosted by him or the twins.

Without so much as a squeak, you gently turned the doorknob, pulling the door slowly to peer down the long hallway. Nobody could be seen or heard, so you slipped out and carefully closed the door behind you to not draw suspicion.

You hurried yourself down the hallway to get to the front door, stopping dead in your tracks as you turned the corner. 

Mephisto was perched outside of Sylus’s bedroom door, his beady red eyes on you in an instant. Like hell was the glorified magpie going to let you pass him without kicking up a fuss.

“If you keep your scrap-metal beak shut, I’ll be out of your feathers. Got it?” Your voice was a whisper, but you knew he could hear you.

He did not make a sound as you slowly passed him, keeping your eyes on his as he followed your every move across the luxury floors. By the time you had passed him, you were fully convinced that he was willing to let you go. The minute you took your eyes off him, though, he started to screech.

“CAW! CAW!”

“Oh for fuck sake! You couldn’t just work with me for once in your—”

“CAW!”

“I wasn’t finished you squawking little—”

You were cut off by Sylus’s door opening, his unamused expression still ever present on his face. He was freshly showered, silver hair dripping onto the bare expanse of chest showing between the lapels of his bathrobe. You had to swallow a noise that rudely made its way up from your suddenly dry throat.

Eyes as red as the rubies around your neck flickered between Mephisto, you, and the bag over your shoulder. He clicked his fingers, sending his winged companion away.

“I was under the impression that you were above cussing out mechanical crows,” he drawled, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

It wasn’t clear whether or not he was joking, considering the less-than humorous look on his face. Either way, you weren’t in the mood for it.

“I’m going home.”

“I can see that,” he responded immediately, nodding towards your barely closed bag. “And how, exactly, are you planning to get there?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling a bit like a teenager who’s just been caught sneaking out to a party. “I’ll figure that out myself.”

Holding his cold stare wasn’t usually a challenge for you, but you found yourself desperate to look away. You had compared Frank’s domineering aura to Sylus’s earlier, but it didn’t actually come close to the man before you. 

You had seen men and women strapped with weapons that could swiftly eliminate even the most dangerous of Wanderers cower at the sight of Sylus. He was the true definition of a force to be reckoned with.

He raised a lazy eyebrow at you, his hand slipping into the pocket of his robe. “You’re not leaving without a ride home. You’re over the limit, and if I wanted you to be skinned alive walking through the N109 Zone, I’d open the front door for you.”

“You give me a lift then,” you rebuked, your patience already thinning.

Sylus offered half a shrug. “I could, but I don’t make a habit of going out half naked.” You hoped to the lord that he didn’t see your shiver at the fact that he was only concealed by a thin robe. “You’re welcome to ask Luke and Kieran.”

“And where are they?”

The corner of his lip curled so subtly that you almost didn’t see it. “Out.”

You growled at his relaxed attitude. Why the hell would he even suggest it if they weren’t around?

“They’re cleaning up a mess of mine,” he answered as if you had asked.

A chill ran through you. “Would that mess happen to be Frank’s body?”

Sylus turned away from you, strolling into his room. You weren’t entirely sure why, but you followed him in, suddenly wanting answers.

“Well?”

Dark tendrils coiled around the bag on your back, gently tugging it down your arms and carrying it out of the room, closing the door on the way out. You had a feeling your belongings were heading back to where you just came from.

Sylus fiddled with the sleek black turntable in the corner of the room, carefully setting a vinyl record into place. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d hauled you into the car.

“You’re aware of the saying, right? Curiosity killed…” he trailed off, putting the pin in its place upon the record.

You frowned at his back. “The cat?”

He blew out a short laugh, not an ounce of humour in it. “The crook.”

He turned back towards you, slowly making his way to where you were a little rigid by the door. There was that feeling again. That you were a worm in the sights of a crow.

“Tell me,” he crooned, stopping right where your forehead would connect with his heart if you took half a step forward. “What was it about Frank that had you feeling adventurous, hm?”

You forced yourself to look up at him, feeling your cheeks heat at how close you were. “What do you mean?”

“Kitten, I can read you like the nervous wrecks who attempt to double cross me. Don’t play dumb, it does not suit you.”

His eyes were fierce and serious, but you hadn’t a clue what he was getting at. Your silence only lasted a few seconds before he leaned towards your shoulder.

“What was it that attracted you to him?” He whispered so quietly that you just about heard him over the thrum of your rapid heartbeat.

Attracted to him? In the approximately two minutes you had spent with Frank at the bar, you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to him. 

You stepped away, your back connecting with the door immediately. Even with the slight gap, his look over your much smaller form was rather harrowing. And yet you felt that unhelpful flutter in your core again, so strong that your knees wobbled in place. What was this man doing to you?

“Did you hit your head this morning?” You bit back, clenching the muscles of your thighs tightly to relieve some of the pressure there. “You think that I had an eye for him because he bought me a drink?”

He closed the gap again, his large palm resting against the door right beside your head. “Why else would you not walk away when you were quite blatantly warned to do so.”

“Maybe because I was tired of—” you cut yourself off before you could finish. 

You had told yourself that the reason you hadn’t wanted to remain at his side was because you were tired of watching people practically tremble in his presence.

Now, though, you weren’t sure that was the sole reason.

Every woman in that damn room had an eye on him, and it had made you feel…strange. You weren’t typically a jealous person by nature, but tonight had proved you capable of such emotions. In fact, you were practically tearing the heads off of beautiful women in your mind, wanting to punish them all for having the audacity to look at him like he was a piece of meat.

Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all.

He cleared his throat pointedly. “Tired of…?”

You huffed rather childishly, turning your head away from his hard stare. “Of the attention that certain people were giving you,” you begrudgingly admit. 

There was no use lying to him, since falsely having him believe that you were actually interested in Frank seemed like a sure way to get on his bad side—if you weren’t already on it.

With his hand that wasn’t resting beside your head, he took a hold of your jaw, carefully turning your face back to his. “And would these people happen to be women?”

You merely shrugged, having no desire to discuss the matter any further.

Sylus studied you for a moment, contemplating. He looked as if he couldn’t decide between scolding you or shaking some sense into you. You were almost shocked that he didn’t go straight to mocking you, but you had an inclination that he had felt the same thing whilst you sat at the bar with one of his enemies.

He dropped his head beside yours again, murmuring in your ear. “If you wanted my attention, sweetie, I would have given it to you.”

You almost moaned, his breath tickling the sensitive column of your throat. Lifting a hand, you grabbed onto his wrist to steady yourself, only for him to pull out of your grasp immediately.

A flash of fear shot through you at his sudden rejection, but it was almost immediately soothed as he pried your fingers open enough to slip his own between them, pinning your hand to the door. 

“Do you have any idea the kind of danger you could have been in tonight?” It was a growling question that didn’t require an answer. You felt your breath pick up in pace, the swollen peaks of your nipples skimming the top of his abs every time your chest heaved. “Frank has been known to have a string of disappearing acquaintances. He wouldn’t hesitate to maim you out of spite to me.”

You shuddered at the thought of being so close to a killer. And yet the proximity between you and Sylus did not give you that same feeling of dread. You know that he has killed many before, and despite not having his death confirmed or denied just yet, you knew that Frank was now somewhere in the afterlife, hopefully being accosted by the people he had killed.

You knew, but you had to ask.

“Did you kill him because I was speaking to him?”

Sylus shook his head, pulling back just enough that he could look you in the eyes. “I killed him because it was long overdue. I’ve had men who have been sent out to keep an eye on that bastard, and many of them did not return,” he explained quietly, a hint of frustration in his tone. “If I had taken my eyes off of you for a second—”

He audibly swallowed, cutting himself off. You could easily guess what he was going to say, and clearly the mere thought of it was haunting him.

A wash of guilt fell over you. If you had just walked away when you were told, he wouldn’t have had to do anything.

“He wasn’t going to take one more person from me,” he finally gritted.

That very thought should have filled you with dread. It should have made you sick to your stomach.

But the mention of his eyes on you for every second you weren’t beside him caused a spreading warmth to grow in your chest. Despite the situation you hadn’t realised you were in, you had been safe that whole time under his watch.

“I would have thought you’d be glad to get me out of your hair,” you said, only half joking to diffuse the tension between you.

He didn’t seem amused by it at all, his grip on your hand tightening. “Like I said, kitten. If I wanted you dead, I’d be seeing you out of the front door instead of standing here, resisting urges I have no right to have.”

Your thighs pressed together again at his whispered confession. His eyes always warned of danger, but they were gleaming with desire. 

You were not losing out on him tonight.

With the most tender of touches, you ran the tips of your fingers over his exposed chest with your free hand, feeling his steady breath falter. He swallowed thickly, suffocating your hand in his against the door. 

“I apologise,” he whispered gruffly, his head dipping to where your collarbone was visible to him in the neckline of your dress. 

You shuddered as his breath danced across your clammy skin, droplets from his wet hair falling against your chest. “For what?”

“Handling you the way I did.” His lips were mere inches away from you, and it took all your strength not to grab the back of his head and slam his face into your chest. “The thought of that bastard doing something—”

“Kiss me.”

Sylus didn’t give you a chance to cringe at your own slip up as every inch of him pressed you into the door, his mouth attacking your pulse with expert precision. You let loose a shaky moan, your nails scratching down his rock hard pectoral.

Every ounce of animosity you had been harbouring since the event dissipated at his touch. He was rough and unrelenting, his indistinguishable power overwhelming you in the most delicious way possible.

“Lower,” you breathed softly, wanting him everywhere.

You weren’t sure how he heard you, but he obeyed your hushed command. In one swift movement, his free arm clutched you around your waist, lifting you up. Both of your legs perched perfectly either side of him, suffocating his waist.

With his newfound access to your already exposed chest, he immediately got to work, sucking and biting at the thin layer of skin over your collarbones. The pain of sharp teeth sinking into flesh married faultlessly with undeniable pleasure, causing you to writhe against him. 

A firm bulge pressed against your heat as he ground himself against your cunt. Even with the sensation being drastically muted by the material of your thong and his robe being between you, you appreciated the absolute weapon he was concealing beneath his nightly attire.

“Ah—” you gasped, the soft sound immediately erased by a sharp hiss as he sunk his teeth into your skin again.

His mouth slowly travelled down to the tops of your breasts, where he pressed uncharacteristically tender kisses to each one. You were a wriggling, desperate mess already, but he was still sane enough to take a moment to study your chest.

“I have always appreciated art,” he crooned.

He removed the arm that held you around your waist, purely holding you up with his lower body alone. Your breasts were granted a sweet release as he pulled the thin straps of your dress down, pulling the material out of his way like a man depraved.

It was the look in his eye. A million compliments that didn’t need to be put into words. You could see them. Hell, you could feel the utter captivation radiating from him.

Your free hand smoothed over the delicious muscle of his shoulders before curling around the back of his neck. With a swift yank of his head, his mouth locked onto one of your firm nipples. Back arching off of the door, you cried out as his tongue swirled and flicked the sensitive area, leaving you a little mindless.

He finally let go of your hand, hungry to feel more of you. One hand pushed up your thigh, the skirt of your dress riding up with the movement before he squeezed your hip. The other cupped your neglected breast, thumb brushing over your pert nipple as if it were the joystick on a gaming console. Up, down, left, right, and all over again. 

It was almost too much, and yet you still wanted more. He ground himself against you again, your head slamming back against the door with a reverberating thud. You felt it this time. The thickness of his solid shaft, followed by the damp sensation of your arousal.

You needed him there. Now.

“Mm—” you mumbled pathetically, unable to get a word out.

Sylus chuckled against the breast he was feasting on. “What was that, sweetie?”

All you could do was wriggle yourself against his cock, hoping to convey a message to him without the need to trip over your words. You wanted to swallow up every inch of it with your warmth, leaving it glowing like a damn firefly with the glistening sheen of your essence.

“I know that pretty mouth of yours can talk,” he whispered against the column of your throat. “Tell me what you want.”

Your mouth was dry, like the space between your legs had stolen your saliva to lubricate you further.

“More.”

Sylus clicked his tongue. “There are nicer ways to ask.”

You knew he wasn’t being serious, but you would have begged on your knees at this point. He had to have felt your legs trembling against his waist, aching for him to fill you.

“Since you haven’t specified…” he began, pulling his head back completely.

For a second, you thought you had actually irritated him. There was a darkness in his stare, a hunger. You couldn’t figure it out, but it didn’t matter once the dark tendrils of his Evol snaked around your arms, dragging them up above your head. Your eyes widened.

Was he going to leave you tied up here?

“Do you trust me, sweetie?”

Any sane person being restrained against a door by the literal epitome of bad news himself would have frantically shook their head.

But you didn’t. You trusted him with every damn crevice of your soul.

“Y-yes,” you stammered.

He brought up a hand to stroke your side before hooking it under your thigh, along with the other one. One swift lift had you hurtling upwards, as if you weighed no more than a spaniel puppy.

Your legs were quickly on his shoulders, securing him a front row seat to your soaked thong. Getting any wetter had to be impossible, but your position was serving to give it a good try. Wrists tightly secured above your head, your legs wrapped around his neck, and his warm breath fanning over your damp thighs.

No throne in the most lavish palace on earth would be more tempting than this seat of yours.

His crimson eyes flickered up to your face, a flash of uncertainty in his gaze. “Is this where you want me?”

You nodded rapidly before his hand came up to hold your jaw, halting your wordless answer.

“Words please, kitten,” he requested.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Sylus.”

He grinned, an unnerving and yet exciting sight. Wasting no time, he gripped the flimsy material of your cheap thong, tearing it at the seams to grant himself access to your bare cunt.

There was no teasing. No small pecks to your inner thighs. Not even a warning before his hot, balmy tongue lapped up a line of your juices through your folds, slowly dragging over the bundle of nerves nestled within. It took him no time at all to figure out where that heavenly little mound was, as if he knew your body like the back of his veiny hand.

Teeth. Tongue. Lips. All three of them fighting brutally for their moment on your clit, as if he couldn’t figure out which to use first. Your brain could hardly keep up with the flitting between this and that. All you knew was that you didn’t want it to stop.

Your legs tightened around his head in a bone-crushing squeeze. The suffocation only served to push him further, like he was fuelled by the possibility of having his jaw crushed like a damn walnut between your thighs.

“I could think of worse ways to go,” he growled against your hole, nose buried deeply into your folds to inhale your scent.

He pressed further into you, his tongue penetrating you with a greedy lick down your plush walls. Your hips jolted of their own accord at the sensation. He was your puppet master, making you grind and flinch on demand with his calculated actions.

The more his tongue slid in and out of you—the tip of his nose perfectly hitting your clit every time—the more of him you wanted inside of you. 

Gone were your soft, airy moans. You were crying out to whoever would listen, announcing to the world beyond the walls that you were being fucking devoured by the most feared mouth in the N109 Zone.

A mouth that could bring grown men to their trembling knees with one mere bark of an order.

You were drunk on it.

He slowly withdrew his tongue, immediately swallowing. “Like candy,” he murmured.

He licked at his lips, eyes trained on the concoction of his saliva and your fluids with awe. His hand shifted from where it had still been gripping your thigh, the soft pads of his fingers tracing circles around your hole for lubrication.

“Can you handle them?” He didn’t look up as he asked, fixated on the patterns he was repeatedly drawing through your folds.

“Mhm,” you mumbled.

He clicked his tongue. “Words.”

“Yes.”

He seemed to make quite the habit of just diving in as soon as he had permission. In one swift push, he impaled you on his lengthy index finger, his knuckles pressing against your pelvic bone.

You cried out towards the ceiling. “Fuck!” 

“You must’ve had some pretty disappointing experiences down here, sweetie,” he purred. “You’re so very tight.”

Every muscle in the lower half of your body was quivering with need, your hips unable to still themselves. He wasn’t wrong, nobody had ever truly left you gasping or crying out to the heavens.

You had a feeling he was about to change that.

Slowly, he dragged the digit back out, making sure to scrape down on your walls as he did. He began a steady rhythm, plunging his finger in and out of you lazily. His eyes held a repertoire of fascination, as if he’d been dreaming up this moment for quite some time.

He didn’t rush to add the second digit, but as soon as he did, you lost all sense of reality. The curling and pounding was precise and calculated, every brush of your neglected g-spot extracting a whimpering moan from you.

“Ngh…oh fuck,” you managed through a shuddering breath.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily. “I want to feel you come undone. Can you do that for me, darling?”

If he kept talking to you like that, it was going to happen a lot sooner than he would expect. The mental challenge of holding back was near impossible, and seemed to be displeasing him.

He picked up his pace. Firm, brutal bucks of his hand giving you every push towards that edge that you were trying to keep a distance from. You were yanking at the tendrils gripping your wrists, crying out pathetically at the sheer velocity of his fingers.

“I hope you’re not holding back on me,” he warned quietly.

He wanted you to finish. He was so very desperate to feel your release that he was practically shoving you towards it.

You couldn’t deny him.

The building pressure in your core gave out as you orgasmed, a litany of thuds marrying the sounds of your pleasured cries whilst you writhed against the door. Sylus, at the feeling of your walls contracting around his fingers, became a little breathless himself. He didn’t slow his pace, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure until your very last whimper. 

By the time you had caught your breath, the restraints on your hands slowly loosened, and you expected to be put back down onto solid ground.

Instead, Sylus brought his mouth back to your folds, clearing up the aftermath of your first real orgasm. He was slow and gentle, savouring the taste like a vintage bottle of wine.

He was gentle when lowering you back to the floor, your legs trembling beneath you. You kept a hold of his arms, looking up at his hazy eyes. Anyone would think that he’d been the one on the receiving end of oral sex.

You wanted to give back. You wanted to see everything beneath his robe.

And apparently, your need was rather obvious.

“Not tonight, kitten,” he murmured, fixing your dress to cover your exposed body.

You didn’t know if you were more perplexed or hurt. Why not tonight? Did he not see you capable enough of being able to return the favour?

He brushed a strand of your unruly hair behind your ear in a contrasting manner to how he’d been handling you earlier. “I won’t know when to stop.”

You shuddered at the thought. “I’m okay with that.”

It wasn’t a lie. He could bend you over the railing of the balcony for the whole city to see, and you wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

But he wasn’t budging, the corner of his glistening lips curling upwards at your eagerness. “I don’t doubt that.” 

He leaned towards your ear, his voice a low whisper.

“But it’s going to take a lot more than my saliva and your sweet fluids to help you take me, sweetie.”

[sleepydeprived]

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham's greatest detectives.

[chapter 3]

Mama I’m Chasing A Ghost.

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

The floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom looked out onto the manicured gardens of the estate, and in the distance, was a view of Gotham that never seemed to change.

The same scenery, the same routine.

The butlers, the maids, the drivers who ferried me from one lavish location to another.

Every day was like the last, but with one major exception;

Gotham Academy

For the first time in my life, I had been thrust into a world that wasn’t mine. My mother had insisted I’d go, telling me it was for my own good. I was homeschooled my entire life, my education confined to private tutors and digital classes.

That is.. until my mother moved me to a prestigious school a few months ago. I don’t know what changed her mind. She was always so hellbent on keeping my life private. Her sweet little girl that only she knew about.

But now here I am attending a school that is closely watched by weird, content-hungry journalists and creepy paparazzis hoping to catch a photograph of children with high titles.

Nevertheless, I felt like an outsider. A puzzle that didn’t quite fit. I was the new kid—the girl who came out of nowhere.

But being an outsider didn’t automatically mean loner.

My presence didn’t go unnoticed.

I was different. People knew it, felt it, and stared. Maybe it was the fact that I came from a family—a clan—that held such an influence over Gotham’s elites. I was basically one relative away from a famous celebrity or a corrupt politician.

But, of course, there was also the resemblance to Martha Wayne.

It was a ghost of a resemblance, really, but it haunted me all the same. From the first day I stepped onto campus, I heard the whispers;

She looks like Martha Wayne.

The wife of Thomas Wayne?

She could be her daughter...

Or granddaughter.

It had started out as idle speculation, but as the days passed, the gossip only grew.

People stared, talked behind my back, and pointed at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. They didn't know me, but they had already formed an opinion. The mystery girl. The girl who had somehow, inexplicably, appeared out of nowhere. The girl who had the same smile, the same eyes, the same air of dignity and grace as Gotham’s most beloved figure. The figure whose tragic death had left an indelible mark on the city.

I had never cared for the attention. In fact, I hated it. I’m not interested in being some object of fascination, and that’s just how I was raised. I’m not Martha Wayne nor am I related to her—or at least, that’s what I’ve been told. The more people asked, the more I pushed that idea away. But the whispers were constant.

It made me think. A lot. So much more than what I preferred.

And suddenly, the buried thoughts from childhood of who and where my biological father was came rushing back.

Ever since I was a child, I had learned to bury my feelings—bury the questions about my father, and why my mother wouldn’t speak of him. There had been one conversation about it, years ago when my mother still had the time to let me in her study.

"Your father is not someone you need to concern yourself with," mother had said, her voice cold and stern. "Do not ask about him. Do not seek him. He is not a part of your life. Understand?"

And now, in the halls of Gotham Academy, that memory itched at me, more often than ever before. The bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, but I didn’t hurry to leave. I stood at my locker, staring at my reflection in the shiny surface of the metal.

Do I look like her?

————————

taglist:

@leeleecats @mariadvorak @deans-spinster-witch @rainlovewrites @xoacesgf @whiteoakoak @uknowimdumb @otterluver05

[comatosebunny09]

preface [ un ] | sylus

summary: he reluctantly agreed to let you be bait. ‘you’ll be fine,’ he tells himself. you always are, more than capable of holding your own. you wouldn’t be his ace otherwise. his jaw tenses. doesn’t make him worry any less. he just needs you to hold out a little bit longer until he can get to you. and hopefully, the other girls they’d taken from their families are with you, too.

warning(s): alcohol use, adult themes, profanity, kidnapping, mild violence

now playing: champagne cool - jackson wang

tagging: @athanasia-day @falon-fen @queen-serena88 @karespocketboyfriends @mrswanel @readerxyourfave @world-of-hearts @sunsets-and-crows @antonneva

notes: preface for limerence. | part 2

He doesn’t like to share.

He’s slowly coming to terms with that fact. Not that you’re property. A snack he’s meant to go halfsies with on the playground. But he won’t deny seeing you ride the mechanical bull like that with all those people watching. Well…

It does something to him.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sighs for the umpteenth time, the six screens meshed together in the security room of his penthouse flashing over his features. You’re having a good time. Doing your thing, riding it like it’s no one’s business. Garnering the attention of almost everyone in his club like you always do.

Bull be damned.

He’d bought the damn thing at your behest. You were so cute about it. Pushed your chest against his bicep, squeezed his hand, gave him those beseeching eyes. A farce you put on to get your way. But Sylus and the twins knew better. Knew what truly lurked beneath that glitter and glam. Yet he still fell for it.

He always does.

You reasoned the bull would be a nice add-on. Something to dress up Lux’s so-called drab decor. And sure, it was an interesting addition. A contrast of cowhide and worn colors amid the lush, crimson curtains framing the stage and gilded columns stretching high towards a yawning ceiling. In your words, it was meant to bring in new clientele and keep regulars coming back. Something to expose the seedy underbelly of the city. Lure out his enemies. After all, who could resist a pretty thing like you on a bull? 

Lux is one of Sylus’ many business ventures. A posh little club settled in the city’s heart where innocents and lowlifes frequent alike. Most come for the atmosphere, the unrivaled drinks, and the pretty dancers. Some stay for the promise of something more intimate. Backstage performances, one-on-ones with the lavish women who work there. 

Too bad some of the people who come seeking respite never check out. 

He’s hauled back to the present by cheers of varying degrees. Whistling and not-so-innocent words hurled at the stage. All at you. 

Sylus pitches himself forward to perch sturdy hands on his desk. Shakes his head, exasperation inhabiting his person. 

You’re giving everyone a show of your chest—boasted by the tight costume he had custom made for you—when you lean back like that, your spine level with the saddle. Smile sultry and bleeding sin. He swears he catches you winking at him, thoroughly aware of the many cameras littering his club. 

You’ll be the death of him one day. He’s sure of it. 

He taps the earpiece nestled in his ear. Prepares to lecture you for showboating like that. You’re laying it on too thick tonight. And he feels like a concerned dad about to scold his daughter for wearing something that bears too much skin. But before he can fix his mouth to reprimand you, the whisper of an errant breeze catches his attention.

He cants his head. Doesn’t have to look to know Luke is there behind him, haloed by the shadows. Bowed slightly at the hip with a fist pressed to his chest in greeting. 

“Speak,” Sylus orders, his voice rough with disuse. He pushes down the vexation fizzling in his veins. 

“He’s here, boss,” Luke states.

It’s a simple enmeshment of words, yet it’s enough to shift the atmosphere of the security room just the slightest. Sylus’ jaw tenses, the tendons in his neck flexing. His nostrils flare, and he pushes off the polished oakwood to stuff his hands in his pockets.

The real reason why you’re peacocking about like this has just arrived. And Sylus feels his hackles raise, his lips twitching with an impulse to scowl. The tendrils of his Evol threaten to make themselves known, but he tamps down his quiet rage, trading it for level-headedness. It won’t do him any good to lose his cool now. Not until he’s extracted all the information he needs to make his move tonight.

Sparing a final look at the CCTV footage, he appears composed as he snatches his coat from his leather rolling chair. Drapes it over his shoulders in customary fashion, stepping past his subordinate. Kieran appears at his side as if summoned from thought alone, never missing a beat.

“Keep an eye on her,” commands Sylus over his shoulder to the other twin. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything…reckless.” 

Luke complies with a curt bow before the door of the security room clicks shut. Left to his own devices, Luke chuckles. Rubs the chin of his mask in thought, studying the blue flicker of the various screens, all displaying you.

“More reckless than usual?” he quietly queries, amusement surfing in the undernotes of his voice.

—

Sylus is a businessman through and through. He built his empire granting favors, trading weapons, and other nefarious deeds. Despite how much he radiates murderous intent, he’s cordial as he shakes his guest’s hand. Dons a foolhardy grin, motioning for the man to sit across from him in his private office.

The gentleman’s bodyguards flank him when he takes his seat. Four of them standing in good form behind him, their bodies taut with the need to shoot if necessary. All for little old Sylus?

Sylus sits back in his plush, red leather seat. Crosses his legs, tapping his fingers together. Kieran stands not too far off behind him. All the muscle he needs. “Mister Fate,” Sylus acknowledges, finding it too easy to fall into such an affable role. He’s done this too many times. “It’s been too long.”

The man seated across cracks a smile. The years haven’t been kind to him, wrinkles and sunspots littering his face. “It has,” Fate agrees, twining his fingers in his lap. He hides his intent behind dark lenses. But Sylus already knows what’s genuinely driven him here to his club. Knows what lurks beneath that amiable mask of his.

“Can I offer you a drink?” asks Sylus, ever the trained actor. By the time he’s finished asking, Mister Fate’s attention is elsewhere, focused on the ceiling-high, one-way glass window beside them. A knowing smirk crooks Sylus’ lips. 

Beyond the window stretches his club below. Bodies writhing, merriment filling the air. And then there’s you, the focal point of the stage. Standing on the bull like a surfboard, that pretty smile canting your lips as you tilt your hat. You make it look so easy. His office is soundproof and shrouded in dim lighting. But he knows you’re dancing to your favorite song, basking in the attention. The limelight. 

Serving as the perfect distraction. 

And Mister Fate’s hooked. Tugs on the round of his tie, his mouth growing dry. He can’t look away, taken by your beauty and charm. You always play your role to a T. The pretty femme fatale that everyone wants a chance with but is rarely awarded your time. Your attention. 

Not like Sylus. 

And he doesn’t know what’s washing over him when his fingers twitch on the armchair, and his brow ticks towards his hairline. But he suddenly doesn’t like how Fate’s watching you like a prime cut of meat waiting to be seared and consumed. Had it been any of the others, would he still feel so defensive? “Mister Fate,” Sylus tries again after clearing his throat.

The gentleman in question finally tears his ironclad stare away from the window to look at Sylus. Like he’s been caught doing something naughty. It’s normal to stare. Sylus sometimes finds himself, too, falling prey to your allure.

Sylus motions to a whiskey decanter and two glasses on the coffee table before them. “Can I interest you in a drink? Something to wet your whistle?”

“Y-Yes, of course,” the aging man replies, bringing a shaky hand to his face to stroke his mustache. It’s comical how sweat collects on his forehead and between the thin hairs bordering his lip. You really are something dangerous, aren’t you?

“Such a beautiful girl,” Fate notes, more-so to himself whilst the slosh of viscous fluid poured into a glass fills the quieted room. Sylus slides the man his drink, and he’s not at all surprised to find him peering out the window again. “A very lovely girl.” He speaks as if he’s in a trance. Fallen prey to your spell, just like Sylus knew he would.

Sylus raises his glass to the man to toast but to no avail. He’s found what he’s looking for. And you’ve served your part well. And Sylus most certainly does not bristle as he leans back in his seat, dumping the contents of his glass down his throat, the acrid sting serving to ground him.

“Mister Fate,” he tries again, attempting to redirect the subject. He’s becoming increasingly sensitive when it comes to you these days. Doesn’t know why the thought of you makes his chest pull where before, you were something of convenience. 

There’s amusement in Sylus’ voice as he puts back up that arrogant front. “Did you come here just to ogle my dancers, or are we going to get down to business?”

Fate, as if remembering himself, quickly wipes his mouth after taking a sip. Sets his glass down, leaning forward with his elbows resting in the pockets of his thighs. “Ah, yes! Of course!” 

Sylus spares one more look out the window. You glance up as the crowd you gathered erupts in applause and praise. Like you sensed your boss’ scarlet eyes on you. And with a knowing lift of your brow and an unnoticeable nod from Sylus, he starts digging for what he’s truly after.

Information. 

—

Fate talks in riddles, but Sylus is good at reading between thin lines. 

They’re halfway through a game of chess when Sylus’ earpiece crackles to life for the first time in nearly an hour. And it’s your voice pouring through, dipped a few octaves down. Amused.

“Woah,” you chuckle, the click of your heels slowing to a stop. “Is that a gun in your indigo pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

There’s a rigidness to Sylus’ movements as he sets his rook down on the chessboard. The world melts away around him, and he finds himself trained on the hang of your voice on the other end. 

He tries not to show it, adrenaline spuming through his body. You said the code word. Indigo. Something to signify you’re about to be captured. You’d lain yourself out as bait to further Sylus’ agenda. You always did. Always served him well, the brawn and beauty. 

You’ll be fine, he tells himself. You always are. More than capable of holding your own. You wouldn’t be his ace otherwise. His jaw tenses. Doesn’t make him worry any less. 

This is a dangerous game you’re playing. The both of you. One wrong step and he could lose his diamond. He’s spent years hunting Fate down. Knew it’d be a matter of time before he bared himself, the greedy bastard. All thanks to you.

“Mister Sylus,” Fate interjects, tapping the clock on the side of their chessboard. Sylus glances up to see his lips crooked with a smile. Something omniscient. Smug. “It’s your turn.”

Sylus rights himself. Poises his hand over the next piece, prepared to make his move. He tamps down a rush of epinephrine when he hears a gruff voice grouse, “Yeah right, bitch, get in the car,” in his earpiece.

You laugh, the sound of it rich and complacent. “What? Not gonna buy me dinner first?”

There’s a brief scuffle taking place in his ear, followed by the sound of something blunt being jammed against bone. And then, there is but the sound of exertion. Orders being barked, car doors slamming. A shriek of feedback and then cold silence.

They’ve more than likely knocked you out. Found your earpiece and disposed of it.

He has faith that you’ll survive long enough to get to the auction unscathed. At least until he can track you to its location. 

—

“It’s been a pleasure, Mister Sylus,” says Fate once the game ends, shaking his hand a little too firm. “Maybe next time I’ll beat you.”

“You almost did,” Sylus counters on a double entendre. Fate regards him with a quirked brow, still holding fast to his hand, rooted to the spot. He scrutinizes Sylus a little longer before one of Fate’s bodyguards approaches him from his side, murmuring something into his ear. It’s hushed, but Sylus picks up on keywords and uses context clues to piece everything together. 

The package has been secured. 

That package being you.

The blood in Sylus’ veins turns to ice. He keeps up the mask of indifference as Mister Fate smiles at him a little too knowingly. Bordered by his men, he excuses himself from the Sylus’ office, taking his egotistical aura with him. 

He feels the twins standing behind him. Stuffs his hands in his slacks’ pockets, studying his feet, the tendons in his jaw pulling. 

“We found her, boss,” Kieran cautiously states. “Looks like they haven’t discovered the tracker in her brooch. You were r—”

“Alive?” Sylus interrupts. He knows you’re fine. But he steels himself against the worst outcome just in case.

“Looks like it.”

A glimmer of something indiscernible fleets over Sylus’ visage. Atta girl.

He signals for the twins to get moving over his shoulder. And when they clear the room in a gust of wind, he’s already sinking into the inky, feathery shadows of his Evol, prepared to find you before they’ve sold you off to the highest bidder.

He just needs you to hold out a little bit longer until he can get to you. And hopefully, the other girls are with you, too.

[anantaru]

synopsis. you're in a changing room trying on lingerie while rich boy aventurine admires you <3 dry humping n getting spoiled

cw. ⪩⪨ [ex]plicit, rich boy au, rich boy aventurine, reader wears lingerie, fingering & dry humping, fem! reader

somewhere amongst the fancy to love and favor you, rich boy aventurine has a habit of spoiling you without hindrance— at bottom, in the glow of his eyes, he views life as nonsense without a substance much deeper than that of materialistic possessions, all the more reason as to why you were the most valuable to the blonde.

rich boy aventurine walks you through the countless stores that were flashing the most luxurious brands— expensive bags and purses, or what about an avant-garde necklace for it to fit the other accessories? you hum, teeth sinking into your glossed lip as aventurine urges you to make him purchase it all.

your mind falls down into an emotion you could never get tired of, "this one? yeah?" aventurine says with a nasty grin, almost like he needed you to tell him again, this time a little harder, a little more sensual. his body language was becoming more excited, agitated in a way where he was struggling to hold himself back.

rich boy aventurine watches the shop workers help you get all glammed up for him, so eye-catching and entrancing until his mouth waters at the luring sight once you let him step closer, his observant gaze noting how the lingerie digs and moves in keeping with your skin.

"fuck..." his voice was much the same as gravel, saturated within a mirage of intense cadences dipped in swelling lust as he admires you, shortly after reaching one palm towards his groin to adjust himself a little.

the fancy material of your lingerie hugs up on your body as it was crafted for you, your skin glowing as you're beautifully showing off the exclusive garments that must've been used to create it, fitting you like it's only made for you to wear, for you to enjoy and aventurine to look at, the crystal-glazed necklace on your neck too, leaving nothing concealed.

rich boy aventurine cannot take his eyes off you, seeing you like this formed a thrilling mist of coveting desire inside of the small changing room, blanketing both of your bodies inside a warm conceal.

and how deeply he yearned to get a taste of you, endlessly worship your skin with his strong arms and frame your figure with them tight. aventurine believes you're so graceful when you let him spoil you in such striking manner.

like a dangerous drug, he would describe the excitement he felt whenever he was visiting multiple lavish stores to buy you exorbitant garments, barely holding himself back at the thought of ripping them off your skin later.

the dressing room was too tiny to fit two people, but the both of you made it work somehow— always, with cold glass you're being pressed at, the attention on your plushy ass growing stronger as you feel his agitated erection grind into you. he practically salivates at how he can see the reflection of you two in the mirror when he presses and fucks you through his clothes, two calloused hands holding you in place while you're sneakily brushing your fleshy ass back into his groin.

"baby, oh baby... can't wait to rip that off you…" aventurine lets out a pathetic, little whine followed by a deep rumble emitting from his throat— slowly adding a leisurely tempo to his pace as he humps his clothed sex into your ass before his tongue lewdly licks across the back of your neck.

rich boy aventurine won't stop until he's felt you up everywhere, entirely, he glissades one hand from your breasts to your stomach until settling on your clothed pussy, the small twine of fabric snuggled up between your wet folds was sitting perfectly, which gave him an optimal way to rub your cunt in erratic circles, his adams apple bobbing before he whispers your his name at his fingers gathering your slick.

your head slants back at the new, satisfying impact of two rough digits mounting over your squelching pussy— a marvel of bliss spiking your blood the moment he'd alternate between stimulating your warm cunt, lapping his tongue up and down your neck while humping his thick, clothed member into your plush ass.

it's so crowded in that small changing room, you fear aventurine might rip your new lingerie apart if he's continuing with this— how much you hope he does, it's always a pleasure when he fucks the literal clothes off you, not to mention how pretty he looks with his shirt sticking to his chest, exposing his defined abs.

most deliciously, you were certain that there must be a couple shop workers noticing the deafening noises coming from your area— what else was there to do for them other than listening to what filthy scenes were happening? while only wishing it was them instead.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[saintobio]

⊹★⋆ two wheels and a hot guy.

pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader tags. 1k wc, biker boy x biker girl au, non-sorcerer au, crack, fluff, dirty jokes (?), satoru rides an s1k, biker!sukuna mentions, same au as my other fic. sparked by a random idea bcos why haven't we thought abt biker!gojo honestly? he would be so funny on tiktok if he was a biker boy lmao

You’ve all heard about Biker!Sukuna. That famous biker boy on biketok who has tattoos and rides a blacked out Yamaha R1. 

But have you heard about Biker!Gojou? 

Well… For starters, Satoru Gojou wasn’t a seasoned biker. 

In fact, he was more of a poser than anything, but you’d never catch him admitting that. His prized BMW S1000RR, the crown jewel of superbikes, was more about image than skill. The sleek, aggressive lines of the machine, combined with the prestige of the BMW logo, were all he needed to keep up appearances on TikTok. And he learned that appearances were everything, especially when Sukuna, with his obnoxious face tattoos and natural charisma, hogged the limelight (especially from all the girls!) with every post, even with a girlfriend already in tow. The sheer audacity of that scum was enough to drive Satoru up the wall. Fine, he had to admit. He was jealous of Sukuna’s popularity and the fact that he snatched a cute booktok girlfriend as his backpack. 

Suguru, his best friend and fellow biker, didn’t let him forget it either. As they stood by their bikes outside Barnes & Noble to spot booktok girls, Suguru glanced at Satoru’s liter bike and smirked. 

“Pretentious motherfucker,” he muttered, slinging a leg over his Yamaha MT-10, the less flashy but undeniably badass naked bike. Unlike Gojou, Suguru didn’t care about clout. The MT-10 was all about raw power and agility, the kind of bike a real rider appreciated. “You only got that thing because it’s a BMW. You gonna actually ride it for real one of these days?”

“Shut up.” Satoru rolled his eyes, adjusting his white Alpinestars riding gloves while holding his phone up to go live on TikTok. Starting with a 1000cc as a beginner bike wasn’t a very wise choice, but still... “People love the S1K, you know that.”

And let me tell you about Satoru’s favorite time of the day (or night). It was whenever he would go live, and the comments would pour in as soon as his stream started. That was when he could lavish in his social media presence the most.

user19463: Bro, when are you gonna show us some actual riding content?

anon875biker: All that thirst trapping. Bet you don’t even take that thing out of the garage. 

harleysRbetter: U punks R ruining the riding community! 

Gojou grinned at the screen, winking at both his followers and haters. “Alright, boomers, calm down. I’ll post some riding content soon. Don’t cry too much before then, yeah?”

r1.skn: Sir, can you do wheelies? 

Suguru found that comment hilarious, recognizing the username and knowing exactly who it belonged to—Sukuna. But Satoru’s competitive nature kicked in instantly while he continued to scroll through the comments. “Yeah, I can do wheelies. Ignore Sukuna, guys. Focus on me!”

msbikerluvr: Still looking for a backpack, Gojou? Lmao.

“About the backpack… you know, I’m just waiting for the right one. Applications are still open—” He was about to launch into another witty retort when a sound cut through the chatter of his stream—it was a deep, throaty rev that sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. Satoru’s head immediately whipped to the direction of the sound, just in time to see a flash of race blue zipping down the street.

There you were, riding a Yamaha R7, your black Dainese jacket hugging your curves as you leaned into the wind. The way you handled the bike, so smooth and confident, it was as if the motorcycle was an extension of you. 

“Damn, she’s hot.” Without a second thought, Satoru ended the live stream abruptly, “Gotta go, guys. Someone just stole my heart,” and pocketed his phone.

“Did you seriously just—” Suguru started, but Satoru was already mounting his S1000RR.

“Catch you later, Suguru!” he called, gunning the engine without even looking at his best friend. Soon enough, the 1000cc bike roared to life when he shifted into first gear, and he sped off in pursuit of the blue R7.

He caught sight of you at the next red light, the signal holding you in place just long enough for him to catch up. Thank God there was no sign of a biker boyfriend around when he pulled up alongside you, visor down, adrenaline still kicking him alive. He tried to get your attention by revving his S1K, and you turned your head slightly, barely acknowledging him as you pulled your visor up and revealed the prettiest eyes Gojou had ever seen. 

Satoru flipped up his visor too, then flashed his most charming grin. “Hey there,” he said, trying to keep his voice smooth and casual. Like it was a normal encounter. “You’re fast. I like that.”

You may have rolled your eyes, but he could tell you were smirking underneath the balaclava as you talked through the Cardo intercom linked to your AGV K1s. “And you’re obnoxious. I don’t like that.”

Oooh, she’s spicy. He laughed at the silly thought in his head, unbothered by your dismissal. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to get to know the girl who stole my heart in the middle of a live stream.”

“Your heart, huh?” you teased, revving her engine just slightly. “Sounds like you’re more interested in what’s under my jacket.”

“Now that’s a baseless accusation,” he retorted, leaning in slightly. “I don’t do anything on the first night, you know. I usually wait until the second, after a nice dinner. I’m a gentleman like that.”

His remark made you snort, shaking your head at his boldness. “You’re a ridiculous guy.”

“But I’m also serious,” he added, his voice sincere despite the playful glint in his eyes. “Let me take you out, just dinner. No strings, no funny business—unless you’re into that kind of thing. I don’t mind that, either.”

Your laughter sounded like a sweet melody to his ears. “You’ve got guts, mister. I’ll give you that.” Has anyone told you how hot you looked while leaning into your bike? Damn. Satoru was distracted, checking you out for a moment until you spoke again, “Fine. One dinner. But don’t think you’re getting into my pants just because you ride a fancy bike.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised, grinning from ear to ear.

The light turned green, and without another word, you revved your engine and took off with Satoru right on your tail. The chase was on, but this time, it wasn’t just about the thrill of the ride. 

For Satoru Gojou, it was about something far more exhilarating—winning the attention of the most intriguing biker girl he’d ever met. 

And perhaps, the biker boyfriend and backpack girlfriend content he’d been hoping to post on Tiktok may slightly change into a different direction than he expected. 

[ninibeingdelulu]

Morning run ✧

Plot: Kaiser come back from his morning run.

The early morning light filtered through the curtains as Michael slowly blinked awake. His chiseled features settled into that signature smug smirk as he turned to admire your sleeping form beside him.

Just the sight of you curled up peacefully under the sheets made him feel like the luckiest man alive to have such an exquisite prize.

Leaning over, he pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek, lips quirking at the way your nose scrunched adorably in your slumbering state as you let out a soft mumbled groan.

Your arms instinctively reached out, tugging him closer in a sleepy snuggling embrace as if to keep him there.

"Stay..." you murmured groggily into his bare chest.

That low rumbling chuckle vibrated against you as Michael extricated himself with easy confidence.

"I'll be back in an hour, liebe. Morning run."

He threw you a wink before slipping from the warm cocoon of blankets, already energized to tackle another grueling training regimen befitting his status as one of the world's elite youth strikers.

True to his word, sixty minutes later the bedroom door swung open again as a sweaty, freshly exercised Michael returned.

He didn't hesitate before launching himself onto the bed, bounding over and unceremoniously sprawling half on top of you. You jolted awake with a breathless giggle, squirming under the sudden weight.

"Michael! You're all sweaty and gross," you protested with no real heat, trying in vain to shove his muscular frame off as he merely grinned unrepentantly.

With that wolfish glint sparking in those piercing azure eyes, he caught your wrists easily, pinning them over your head as he leaned down to trail hot, openmouthed kisses from your forehead to the tip of your nose.

You laughed again, torn between playing keep-away with your face and just surrendering to his passionate attention.

"Just admit you like it when I'm all hot and bothered for you," he purred cockily against the hollow of your throat.

Michael's wicked tongue darted out to drag a scorching path along the rapid flutter of your pulse.

"I-I haven't even brushed my teeth yet!" you protested weakly, stomach clenching at the blazing path his skilled mouth was mapping with each molten kiss lavished across your skin.

Michael pulled back just far enough to meet your conflicted gaze, sheer naked lust searing behind those intense eyes.

"Don't care," he growled before crushing his lips against yours in a searing, demanding kiss.

A trembling whimper escaped you as your treacherous body arched into him on instinct.

His talented tongue swept past your lips without resistance, slicking against your own.

Michael kissed you deeply, thoroughly enough to leave you dizzily breathless by the time he pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk curling those obscenely full lips.

Tendrils of copper hair stuck wildly to the light sheen of perspiration on his forehead in a way that should have looked ridiculous yet somehow made him even more irresistibly roguish as your shaky fingers caressed the sharp angles of his chiseled jawline.

"Gonna hit the shower," he husked, voice rough from your heated make out.

With one final toe-curling press of his mouth to yours, Michael rolled off you and strutted towards the bathroom, casually swiping his towel from the hook with an exaggerated sway of those powerful hips and not an ounce of modesty.

As the sound of running water reached your ears, you laid there for several long moments just catching your breath and grinning goofily at the ceiling.

Utterly under the spell of your impossible boyfriend - arrogant and domineering, yet somehow filling you with a sense of being the most treasured goddess in existence under his worshipful attentions.

With a deep sigh of contentment, you stretched out the lingering tension before climbing out of bed to start your day.

Your feet still felt a bit unsteady beneath you as you moved towards the kitchen, just imagining the sweltering sight awaiting you later when Michael finally emerged from that shower...

[froggiewrites]

maybe.. can i request a sanji smut where he accidentally says i love you and panics but it's okay because reader(/you) reassure him. idk. something sappy and cute. also i love your writing! u capture the characters so well

Ahh anon thank you so much!! I've been thinking about this request for a while, it's so cute and fluffy and perfect for Sanji 💙 I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope I did your request justice! This is just absolute unrepentant, self indulgent fluff😊

Heat of the Moment

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You and Sanji finally get the chance to be alone, and you're more than happy to take advantage of the moment. But a small slip of the tongue sends Sanji spiraling, and he needs you to help bring him back. Warnings: Smut, Fluff (like so much, absolutely tooth rotting fluff), No Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 1.4k

You had been waiting days before you could finally be alone.

Every time you thought you had a chance, there’d be another battle, another meal for him to cook, another extra cool thing that Luffy had to show you right now—it was never ending.

But here, today, you two are finally alone, fighting to savor the moment but losing to your desperate need to tear each other’s clothes off.

“I’ve missed you so much.” His voice is breathy, whiny, and desperate. His hands are unbuttoning your blouse with an uncharacteristic lack of patience, fingers catching as he scrambles to undress you. After his hands slip for a third time, he gives up, placing open mouth kisses across your chest, seeking any bit of exposed skin he can find. You giggle, pushing him away to unbutton it on your own, and he lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard. “Please, angel–”

You laugh again. “I’m helping you, Sanji.” You resume unbuttoning, and he’s instantly enraptured with the sight of your midriff, as though he’s seeing it for the first time. You let the shirt slide to the floor, and quickly unhook your bra to join it. The moment your chest is fully exposed, before the fabric even hits the ground, he’s back on you, mouth immediately latching to one of your nipples, fingers rubbing and pinching the other, making you let out a soft, muted moan. He lavishes you in attention, as you try and fail to unbutton his dress shirt, hands trembling with every suck and nip he gives you. You settle for tugging at his hair, though even you can’t quite tell if it’s to encourage him to stop or to keep going. You want to enjoy his body as much as he’s enjoying yours, but from the quiet groans he’s letting out and his heaving breaths, he’s enjoying this just as much as he would your hands on him.

When he removes his mouth to switch sides, you pull back, rushing to remove his shirt before he can distract you again. He laughs quietly, looking up at you with more adoration than you once thought possible. He doesn’t reach for you again until you’ve finished his shirt and start working on his belt, content to admire you until the moment demands him again. Once the belt is off, your pants and panties are off before you even realize he has reached for you. He kicks out of his pants clumsily, tripping and falling directly into you, pulling you both into the bed. He looks embarrassed for only a moment, immediately finding relief in your laughter as you hide your face in his neck.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t hide from me. Don’t deprive me like that.”

You’re still giggling as you push further into his neck. “I’m not depriving you!”

“Yes you are, darling, and you wound me! How am I supposed to hear your beautiful laughter and not see the way it makes your eyes light up?” You laugh harder, and his joke admonishment grows. “I can feel your nose crinkling right now, but I can’t see it. This should be a crime.”

You pull back, smiling so hard it almost hurts, and he grins in return. “There you are.” He kisses your cheeks and nose, making exaggerated smooching sounds upon every impact. “I missed you.”

“I was right here!”

“I know.”

His hands reach for your thighs, spreading you apart and lining himself up. He doesn’t lean down to kiss you, or nip at your neck, and allow you to reach up and kiss him. He simply stares into your eyes as he prepares to enter you. The act is so intimate it makes your chest ache. He slowly bottoms out, eyes not leaving you for a moment, admiring the way your face twists with pleasure. He gives you time to adjust before setting a steady pace, his hands gripping the bed sheets in concentration so he doesn’t speed up to the rapid speeds his body is begging for. When you reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck, unable to say anything but a weak cry of his name, he loses that self control, pulling you close and hiding his face into your neck as he hammers into you sloppily.

“Gorgeous…can’t believe you’re here with me.” He starts whispering into your neck, voice thick and heavy. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

You try to tell him that you’re the lucky one here, to be here with him, but you let out nothing but a choked moan as he hits a particular spot, and his quiet admiration turns to rapid babbling, mindless and wanting. A lot of it is just small bits of affection you’re used to, darling and wonderful and beautiful and mine, but as your peaks grow closer and closer, and you’re just on the edge, you hear it. “Love you, god, love you.”

His hips freeze as his arms stiffen beside you, and his voice remains trapped in his throat. You stiffen a little as well, despite yourself. You had wanted to hear those words for so long, kept them buried deep in your chest, not wanting to rush things. Their sudden entrance startled you. You had expected the moment to be grandiose, the way Sanji tries to make most of his gestures. This was just a quiet and simple confession in the heat of the moment. You want to open your mouth to say it back, but the mix of your dying pleasure and the tightening affection in your chest makes it hard.

Until you hear him sniffle.

You instantly move your hands from the back of his neck to his cheeks, pulling him to look you in the eyes. He doesn’t look embarrassed or disappointed as you had expected, angry at himself for letting it slip before he was ready. Instead, your dear Sanji looks afraid.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” You brush away his tears, cooing softly, comfortingly. You want to kiss them away, but despite him still being inside of you, you don’t think that kind of touch is what he needs right now. He presses himself into your hand, trying to hide from you in whatever way he can.

“I didn’t mean–” his voice is shaking, “Well, I did, but I didn’t want–I–” You can see his panic rising, his breath quickening, and you imagine if you moved your hand you would be able to feel his heart frantically pounding beneath your fingertips.

“Breathe, sweetheart. It’s okay.” You give him a gentle smile, bringing one hand up to run soothingly through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong, darling. Just take a second to calm down. In and out with me, okay?”

You take a deep breath in, ignoring how shaky his is, and a long breath out, then another, then another. Once he seems to be breathing okay on his own, you lean forward slightly to brush your noses together. Staring him deeply in the eyes, you whisper, “I love you too, Sanji. It’s okay.”

His eyes fill with tears again. “You do?” His voice cracks around the simple words.

“I do. So very much. Thank you for saying it first. I’ve been waiting to say it for a while now, but I was too scared. Thank you for being brave enough for both of us.” You press your foreheads together, your shaky breathing the only sound in the room for a moment.

He leans forward to kiss you sweetly, a hand reaching up so he can run a thumb across your cheek. “I wanted it to be special.”

“It was.”

He pouts slightly, bottom lip jutting out. “That wasn’t special.”

“Yes, it was,” you insist.

“How?”

“It was from you.”

His eyes widen in surprise before he gives you a goofy, boyish grin, radiating love and joy. He collapses on top of you, sex long forgotten, and pulls you impossibly closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sanji.”

He repeats himself. “I love you. I can say it as much as I want now.”

“I love you too. And you always could. You just know it now.”

You shower his face in kisses as he repeats it, again and again, for every moment he thought it but couldn’t say it aloud. You’re there for what feels like forever, but you don’t mind. This is a moment you could enjoy for eternity.

Taglist: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[riaki]

moneyload | satoru gojo x reader (implied fem)

this is for @satoruoo + everyone who’s tired of my angst | 1k wc

satoru likes spoiling you.

no— like would be the world's greatest understatement. satoru feels about spoiling you the way he feels about you— he doesn’t just like you, he‘s utterly enamored with you. if you asked, he'd move mountains for you. or give up a portion of his candy; both are equitable in his bright eyes. he loves you so much that he'd skip a basketball session with suguru or leave in the middle of the fight to throw the leftover scraps of a cursed spirit to whoever was unlucky enough to be there at the time; you're more important. you've always been.

yeah, that’s gotta be it. a perfect way to paint his feelings for you on a pure canvas brightened by your smile, light as a feather and lively as the sun. and you're completely deserving, he thinks— you, who's always been so patient and kind with him.

as such, he thinks it’s a crime to waste such a beautiful figure on things less than lavish dress and delicate jewelry; but to be honest, he thinks you could don a potato sack and still make it look exquisite. nevertheless, each time you protest when he drapes another dainty necklace glittering with gems cut from a million-dollar wallet and 58 facets (all the reasons he loves you— that's what he calls them.), he shushes you promptly with a swift, sweet kiss; you get a noseful of his expensive cologne every time he sidles up to you and gets comfortable. which, for the record, is quite often.

out of everything he gets you; bouquets of beautiful speckled flowers that look as if a painter dumped their entire palette of pastels and pretties onto the petals, sweet chocolates dark with the tiniest amount of cherry liquor in the center ("i don't need them— i already get drunk off of you, sweetheart!"), fragrant perfume or the latest comfortable clothing that catches his eye (this one's less common. he likes it better when you're only in his clothes.), jewelry is the one he always finds his way back to the most often.

why? well, if you ask him— there's nothing better than being sprawled on your couch with his head in your lap, nuzzling into your warm hand as he catches a whiff of the perfume he gifted you last week paired with the reddest rose he could find on your wrist. your hands card through his hair, and he uses the opportunity to catch your arm before you can move any further, giving you a smug grin as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box.

(it's a little embarrassing the amount of times you've thought he was going to propose from that alone.)

you'll open it, and it'll be a pretty silver necklace that matches the one around his neck, or a gold ring with ornate details that he slips onto your fingers after taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles with a smile and a laugh. sometimes it's a bracelet adorned with rich jewels the color of your eyes; maybe something rose quartz to represent the flush on his cheeks you always seem to elicit or a marigold yellow to show the pure joy he gets from being around you. if you ask him about it, he'll just say, "i wasn't kidding when i said i get drunk off of you, baby." with a boyish giggle that's far too charming to not have been used in his younger years to get his way and a sweet little wink of an afterthought that has your heart racing.

on the occasions when the gift is far less... appropriate, you'll always sigh and chastise him with a shake of your head because you both know the fabric will be torn to shreds in a matter of a few minutes. he does it anyway, though. he's always been a little bit of a brat in that sense.

whatever it ends up as, satoru absolutely adores seeing your reactions; the cute flush on your cheeks when you accept it with a little thanks and a kiss to his cheek, leaning forward on the tips of your toes because he's too tall for his own good. maybe even to hook a finger around the bridge of his sunglasses for lips to lips, if he's lucky. of course, he knows he doesn't have to buy your affection— you've made that abundantly clear in moments he doesn't like to think about as anything more than vulnerability when he's worn out, but there's just something about you that makes him want to pile it on. he's always had more money than he knows what to do with, anyway.

and maybe, just maybe— one day he'll dare to hope for a future past school hallways, flattering dresses and skirts or sneaky kisses when he's a little sweaty and his jacket is in your arms and you're on the bleachers, hijacking shoko's pack of cigarettes while the squeak of shoes on the gym floor and the sound of a basketball rattling in the hoop fills your ears. past nights when you're curled up in his arms and he can comfortably rest his head in the crook of your neck, tucked away where it always should be (and always will be).

he'll hope for days when he gets to wake up to you by his side, a silver band with so much more meaning than the fifth one he's given you that week on your ring finger and a matching one on his own, because satoru loves you so much that he'd empty out the vaults of a bank just to make you smile at him. not in the hollow way his father always had at home, or in the obligatory resolute smiles of the servants on his estate, but in a genuine way; a way no one else (except his mom) had ever come close to because if he sold everything he ever had for you, his world would still be right in front of him, holding his hands and kissing his face in spontaneous bursts of love, like shooting stars dancing across his cheeks as a way of thanks.

...so, maybe satoru likes spoiling you so much because you always seem to return tenfold.

if u looked at my search history you'd see 'how many cuts does a diamond have' and 'what are the chocolates with alcohol in them called' my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[artemis32]

Locksley

yandere Batfam x reader

yes, i do love them. yes, it is a problem. yes, i will make this my entire personality for the next two and a half months

also, necessary disclaimer, there’s a piece of dialogue in this that i took from a youtube asmr channel (bite me, they’re interesting and i’m starved of attention) - it’s jimち asmr, if you’re interested

word count - 4.8k

mbe masterlist

You wouldn’t call yourself a hero, not in any sense of the word. Likewise, you didn’t consider yourself a villain. You were something in between - you did bad things for good reasons, you did good things for bad reasons. 

Living in Gotham changed people. No matter how kind or well-intentioned, everyone ended up corrupt sooner or later. Some just fell further from grace than others. 

The people you helped would argue that you were a hero, someone who deserved recognition and respect for your actions. The people you stole from tended to disagree.

You didn’t care much about what you were. Heroes, villains… They were all the same in your eyes. They wrecked havoc and left people like you to deal with the aftermath - an ordinary citizen who had neither the means nor the aspirations to fix what they’d broken.

****

You started years ago, before you were even a teenager.

It was small things at first. Single fruits, a loaf of bread, a blanket, cough syrup. Things people wouldn’t usually notice. 

You realised pretty soon that you were good at stealing, good at getting away without people noticing. Very good.

Stealing felt justified in your young mind. You told yourself that it was okay. It was okay because you weren’t stealing for yourself. Never for yourself. Never committing a crime for personal benefit.

No, you stole to help others. You did what you could to help those that were too weak or scared to help themselves. 

In those early years, when you were still young and hopeful, you likened yourself to Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor.

Now, years later, the sentiment had faded. 

You still stole from the rich. You still gave everything you stole to the poor. 

Poverty in Gotham was a disease. The densely populated apartment blocks in the Narrows, where you lived, housed more people than it should have, and those people had become somewhat of a family to you. Or at least as close as you’d ever get. So you did what you could to keep them safe and alive. Stealing food to keep them fed, stealing clothes and blankets to keep them warm, stealing medicine to keep them healthy, stealing toys to keep the children hopeful.

That was your job, your purpose in life.

It made you feel as though you had a use. Seeing how people’s faces brightened, how happy they looked to see you when you bought a spare blanket or some extra food, or a toy a hopeful child had been eyeing for a while, it made you feel as though your life wasn’t completely meaningless.

Your life had a purpose. And that purpose was to help those who couldn’t help themselves. 

So you did.

And you never got caught. Not once. 

Until you did.

****

This uniform is so fucking uncomfortable. How do these people do this all day? You think, slipping your index finger beneath the buttoned collar of your shirt, tugging at it in a lacklustre attempt to catch a breath.

As much as recon was necessary, it was also an annoyance most of the time. It was times like these that you thanked the stars above that you weren’t born into a wealthy family. Stuffy galas and boring board meetings were never your thing.

The crowd of wealthy tycoons and aristocrats barely paid the waitstaff a second thought, primping and preening as they mingled amongst one another, trying to impress people who were too self centred to notice them. 

You would’ve rolled your eyes and gagged at the sight, had it not acted as the perfect cover for you. 

Stealing the name tag and uniform off of the service roster was simple enough, and sneaking in through the service entrance of the disgustingly lavish manor was a breeze. Now, as you flit through the crowd of supercilious pricks, you feel grateful for your own nondescript appearance.

Blending in with the average service worker was a blessing, one you took full advantage of as you scanned the large ballroom. There were several large windows, massive panes of glass bordered with ornately carved ebony wood frames. The doors were just as grand, two sets of double doors, and a smaller service door in the very corner of the room, all dark stained ebony to match the windows, were just as detailed and lavish.

It made you sick.

How could these people live so wastefully? How could they live so easily? Their biggest worry was keeping their faces youthful and their houses fancy. It didn’t make sense. Even now, after months, years of doing this, it still confused you - the fact that you lived such a jarringly different life, one that seemed so pathetic in comparison to the vapid crowd that surrounded you.

At the very least, it eased your conscience, and made your job easier. You felt no pity, no remorse for stealing from people like those gathered around you. Very few of them had actually worked for what they had in life. No, it was handed to them at birth. Life was funny like that. Those who work hard are left impoverished, and those who give in to gluttony and greed never have to work a day in their lives for what they have.

You discarded the now empty serving tray behind a potted plant, slipping out the large double doors and into the empty corridor beyond. The halls were silent and dark, moonlight casting large shadows over the walls.

The manor’s antiquated runner rug muffled the sound of your footsteps as you crept along the wall of the corridor, carefully taking note of each door, drawing up a mental map as you continued. 

Every corner you turned was more extravagant than the last. You could practically feel the wealth seeping out of the walls. It disgusted you. 

At least it was nice to look at.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve made it up to the East Wing, the furthest part of the manor from the ballroom. It seems to be the personal quarters of whoever the hell owns this abomination of a house. On the trek up several flights of stairs, you’d passed a collection of bedrooms, several smaller living rooms, and,to your great delight, a study. Though, ‘study’ feels like the wrong word to describe the room.

It looks more like a grotesque mix of a library and a maze, and if you were any more wet behind the ears, you might’ve been intimidated by the sheer size of it. In fact, if you’d stumbled upon a room like this a few years ago, you’d have been in awe. The value of a single item in this room would have you set for life. 

But you don’t allow yourself to be caught up in the moment, keeping steely focus as you move silently, swiftly between towering shelves. You don’t take anything. Not yet. The time for that would come later. Right now, you focus instead on gathering information. The layout of the manor, alarms, sensors, residents.

The last part was always the hardest, especially with people like the elite of Gotham city. People came and went as they pleased, and the odds of you running into someone was higher in extravagant homes like this, what with their abundance of butlers and maids. But you’d avoided them all up to this point, never once encountering anyone in more than a decade of prowling.

And this manor - the famous Wayne residence - never housed more than a dozen people on any given night. You knew the staff and groundskeepers all went home in the evening, leaving the property all but abandoned at night.

You reach the end of the room, pausing only to glance over at the large grandfather clock nestled between two shelves before you turn on your heel and stride back towards the door. You’d gotten what you came for. Now, it was time to take your leave, full mental map in tow. 

Getting out of the gala was a lot easier than getting in, and you took the time to register the smaller details of the manor. In this time, you confirmed one thing you knew for certain:

Wayne manor disgusted you in all its excessive wealth.

Bruce Wayne may have appeared as some kind of well meaning philanthropist or humanitarian, but you knew his pockets ran deep. Much of his wealth, generational and unearned, was hoarded while the rest of Gotham was left to rot in poverty. 

It was, in part, the reason that you didn’t feel bad about what you were doing. He, alongside the rest of Gotham’s elite, had done nothing to earn what they had. You were just levelling out the playing field, giving those in the Narrows a fair chance at life.

And if you had to dirty your hands to help them, then so be it.

****

The thick carpet muffles your landing, though you don’t really need it.

Over the years, you’d mastered your movements, learning how to move silently, without notice. It’d been born from necessity, rather than genuine desire. Growing up in the Narrows wasn’t good for much, but at least you learnt pretty quickly that it was easier to get by if you went unnoticed.

You gently close the window, pushing the polished wooden frame with your fingertips, wincing at the soft click of the lock. Any noise was too much.

The corridors are empty as you silently sweep through the manor, as expected. You aim for the lavish library you’d scoped out a week prior, mental checklist ready. 

Avoiding the cameras and alarms is easy enough, especially when the majority of them scoped the perimeter, rather than the interior. The lack of security, combined with the excessive luxury confirmed what you’d always thought.

Rich people were fucking dumb.

They really thought their money could protect them from everything. Well, there was one thing that no amount of money could save them from.

People like you. People with absolutely nothing to lose.

You had no family, no prized possessions, no desire or greed. And you sure as hell didn’t harbour any fear for people like them.

Eventually, you arrive in the East Wing, slowing your stride slightly. You strain your ears for any hint of movement, blending seamlessly into the shadows as you prowl the corridor. The ornately carved solid wood door opens with a silent swoosh, and you slip into the room a mere moment later.

Someone’s here.

You take note of it a moment too late, slipping between two towering shelves the instant you hear the soft murmurs of a conversation. The lighting is dim, shadows dancing across the room, sourced from the crackling fireplace at the back of the study.

Fuck.

It takes you a beat longer than usual to calm your now racing heart, and the instant you get it under control, you’re back to creeping along the shadows, hands darting out to grab at ornaments and books, shoving them silently into every pocket and gap in your suit and small backpack.

If you could, you’d have brought a bigger bag, but you needed to travel light - light enough to make a swift exit if needed. 

You manage to grab quite a few things without nearing the source of conversation, which you’ve now determined to be two men murmuring lowly near the fireplace. Relief settles heavy in your bones as you creep back towards the door, thankful for the numerous shelves hiding you from view.

Lady Luck was a fickle being, and it seemed she’d decided your time was up.

When you’re about ten steps away from the exit, senses on high alert, time seems to slow, the baroque handle dropping slowly as the door is pushed open. You’re back in the shadows before it fully opens, back pressed against the wall while you weigh your options.

The door is out of the question. There’s no way to slip out without being noticed. The window, maybe?

One glance at the tightly latched windows across the room dash that idea immediately.

Panic swirls up your spine, threatening to take over. If you got caught here, there’s no telling what would happen to you.

As you scramble to come up with a plan, the door swings open and a man steps into the room. He’s young, fresh-faced, perhaps a year or two younger than you. He’s handsome too, in the way aristocrats often were - light eyes, tanned skin, full lips. He was striking. 

And he turned to look right at you.

You’re up, on top of the nearest shelf seconds before his eyes slide towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut, sweat slicked palms pressed flat against the dusty wooden shelf underneath you.

Fuck.

He lingers for a moment, taking a step closer into the shadows, to the spot you’d stood in moments ago. 

There’s no way he knew. He couldn’t.

After several tense, painful seconds, his brow twitches and he turns on his heel, striding over to the other two men, his gait confident and swift. You let out a soft sigh, relaxing only a bit as you try to stop the nervous tremors in your hands.

Escape comes hours later, near three in the morning, when all three men eventually retire to their rooms. You couldn’t get out of that eerie, shadowed manor fast enough.

****

“You really should lock your door at night, especially in this area. You never know when some creep might think about inviting themselves in. Windows too, for that matter - or else B&E’s would just be… Well, E’s.” 

It was barely two in the morning. You’d crawled into bed, still fully clothed, less than an hour ago, exhausted from a long day of work in the hellscape that was hospitality. You hadn’t even had the energy to look over your next few potential hits, never mind take a shower or have dinner.

So it’s no surprise that you’re disoriented, thrown off guard when you wake up to a masked man leaning far too casually against your derelict old couch, slim katana resting comfortably in his hand while he twirls it around.

“Then again,” he continues, ignoring the wide eyed look you give him. You flinch back, the movement too slight to notice as he straightens and strides over to you. “You’ve made my job easier. So I should thank you.”

He stands, hovering over you, arms hanging casually at his sides beneath his cloak as he regards you. The mask he wears hides his eyes, and it feels as though you’re staring up into dark, never-ending pits rather than eyes.

“Hm. You look different than what I expected. Younger. How old are you?”

If you weren’t so terrified, you might’ve laughed. Here, in your cramped, dingy bedsit, stood someone who appeared more demon than man, and he was presumptuous enough to critique your appearance. Worse still is the fact that you might’ve answered him, had he not swiftly changed topics.

“It doesn’t matter. A criminal is a criminal. Blackgate has a cell with your name on it.”

The train rumbles by and shakes the thin walls of your apartment, casting an eerie half glow bright enough to just barely light up your apartment.

Your blood runs cold.

Robin.

You’re moving before he has time to register what’s happening, tossing your worn knit blanket at his head as you leap from your bed, the small single’s frame groaning beneath you at the abrupt movement. You’re across the room when he recovers, hand on the doorknob. Seconds later, a vaguely bird-shaped dagger embeds itself into the doorframe right beside your hand.

“Don’t move.”

For once, despite the alarm bells blaring in your head, you listen. You fight against your instincts and the burning in your limbs as he approaches, closer and closer with every taunting step until he’s right in front of you, another stupid bird-shaped dagger nicking the soft underside of your jaw.

“You’re coming with me. Peacefully.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance at his tone. It’s so condescending, as if he thinks he’s talking to a child. If this was anyone else, you might’ve fought back, but of the list of people you avoided, the Gotham vigilantes associated with Batman were top of the list. 

They were so irritatingly self-righteous, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that they’d view you as a scum of the earth criminal, should they ever catch you. It was part of the reason you’d avoided them so religiously, and you’d done a great job of it up until this point. The only question on your mind right now, though, was-

“How?”

Robin tilts his head, mouth flat. “How what?”

You lift your chin a bit more as he raises his dagger, softly piercing the skin, as if in a warning.

“How did you find me?”

If you could see his eyes, you were sure they’d hold an incredulous look, as if to ask ‘are you stupid?’. But you weren’t. Not like this. You weren’t sloppy. And you sure as hell didn’t step on toes when you stole, especially not enough to gain the attention of a run of the mill vigilante. There was no reason for him to be standing here, in your apartment, all but pinning you to the door.

“How did you find me?” you insist, pushing forward despite the slight sting against your jaw. “What did you see?”

He sets his jaw, tilting his head down as he speaks through clenched teeth. 

“Stealing from Bruce Wayne of all people was a dumb move.”

Your blood chills in your veins.

So someone did see me then… That man. That boy. Fuck.

“It was especially dumb to stick around for four hours afterwards.”

At that moment, you weigh your options. 

If you go with him peacefully, all but turn yourself in, Blackgate would be the least of your worries. You stole from Bruce Wayne.

Wronging such an influential man would have its own set of unique consequences, and it wasn’t yourself you were worried about. Anyone you’d helped in the process would be incriminated. All those innocent people, the women and children, the elderly people who lived around you… 

No. You couldn’t go with him. 

Prison was one thing. Endangering those you swore to help was another entirely.

With your mind made up, everything else is easy.

You grab the wrought iron coat rack beside the door and swing it upwards, aiming for his head without a second thought. The moment he releases you and shoves you back, you’re out the door, sprinting down several flights of stairs.

Too slow. Faster. Move faster.

You hear him behind you, footsteps ringing out like a death knell. 

He wants you to hear him. You know he does. A vigilante like that, someone as skilled as him - you wouldn’t hear him unless he wanted you too.

Honestly, you were quite proud of yourself. You’d made it further than you’d expected. The uneven gravel stings against your bare feet as you sprint through the side alley, aiming for the main street.

It was pointless. You knew it was. Even if you could make it that far, it wouldn’t amount to anything. No one would help you. No one could help you.

Regardless, you still feel disappointed when he grabs you by the collar of your thin, old sleepshirt, yanking you back. The exit to the alley, a mere two metres away, seems to mock you.

In that moment, you think about what you’d done. You truly think, and realise that you didn’t regret a single thing. You didn’t care about what happened to you. Everything you’d taken had helped so many people, far more than it would have helped Bruce Wayne, gathering dust in his old study. 

Everyone had been so happy, so relieved at how much you’d managed to help them. The amount you’d received for the stolen goods had been enough to care for everyone in your building ten times over. 

So no, you didn’t regret your decision.

This time, Robin doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries, gripping the back of your neck tightly and knocking you out a moment later.

****

“Who is she?”

“Her name is-”

“I know what her damn name is. I mean, who is she?”

Tim pauses, eyeing Damian with a strange expression, clearing his throat and continuing after throwing a perplexed glance at Bruce.

“...well, uh, she lives in the Narrows, has for more than a decade. She went to Gotham public high school and received her high school diploma, with no further education. She’s… pretty unremarkable, to be honest. Works in a shitty diner in the East End, earns less than minimum wage...” he trails off for a moment and shrugs. “There’s not much else to say.”

Damian clenches his jaw, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Her address. What is it?”

Again, Tim throws Bruce a glance, sharper this time, choosing his words wisely.

“I… don’t think that’s necessary information. It’s not a big deal, she only took a few things. And it doesn’t seem like she kept any of it. Actually, I’m kind of impressed–”

He’s cut off in an instant, Damian’s glare sharp and filled with rage.

“It does matter. She stole from us. She–” 

The green-eyed youth sucks in a sharp breath, dropping his arms to his side, flexing his hands.

“...she was right there. She was inside the manor, ten steps away from me, and I didn’t fucking notice. It took us two weeks to notice she’d been here at all!”

His words are like venom, belying the real reason he’s so worked up, and Bruce watches him with a blank expression, stepping forward after he’s calmed down slightly, placing a heavy palm on his shoulder.

“I understand your frustrations, but you can’t allow them to cloud your judgement. Don’t allow your emotions to rule your actions. While I agree we should find her, I don’t think we need to be as… extreme as you’re suggesting. She’s just a civilian - albeit a very… efficient one. Take some time, calm down, and we’ll discuss what to do from there, okay?”

Damian shrugs the hand off his shoulder, stalking out of the Batcave with a few short, clipped words thrown over his shoulder.

“Yes, Father. Of course.”

****

A very frazzled looking man is the first thing you see when you come to, temple aching terribly where the angered Robin had decked you hours earlier. Presently, the man hovering over you sighs when he sees your eyes open, though it doesn’t seem to be a sound of relief. His mouth tugs down at the corners, brows pinching together.

“Don’t.”

He presses a palm to your shoulder, keeping you flat on your back when you try to sit up. His tone is stern, flat, accentuated by the dark bags under his eyes. His shoulders sag and he loosens his hold, fingers flexing against your shoulder.

“Just… stay there. Don’t move.”

The words seem more like a plea than a demand, but you listen regardless. Even if you wanted to move, the pain rippling through your skull makes you too dizzy to sit up, let alone stand.

“...do you remember anything?” he murmurs, bright blue eyes roaming your face worriedly.

Licking your dry, cracked lips, you avoid his gaze. Would it be better to lie, you wonder? Would he know? You had a feeling he might. And you had a feeling that somehow, being honest just this once would help you a lot more than lying ever could. 

You swallow thickly, glancing back at him before answering. 

“Yes.”

He rolls his eyes, head lolling forward as he mutters.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Before he can ask you another question, before you can say anything else, there’s a flurry of movement at the entrance to the room, several people storming in. The racket makes your head throb, and you feel faint and woozy as you lean back against the admittedly plump pillows.

You wonder distantly why you weren’t in a prison cell or a hospital. If you’d been in a better headspace and perhaps not concussed, you might’ve been concerned, but it was effort enough to focus on staying conscious at the moment.

“No, Damian! I have had enough! You explicitly went against my instructions– You kidnapped a civilian!”

Chancing a small peek at the arguing duo, you catch sight of little more than two blob-like shapes, the taller of the two yelling animatedly while the shorter stands stoically, staring off to the side, towards–

Towards you.

“She’s awake.”

That has the taller man falling silent for a moment. He sighs heavily, murmuring. 

“We’ll discuss this later. For now, I have to deal with your mess.”

With that, he turns and strides over to you, placing his hand on the shoulder of the young man at your bedside, a silent dismissal. He remains standing while the other two leave, staring down at you expressionlessly.

Bruce Wayne.

Bruce fucking Wayne.

…I’m so dead.

You jolt up, wincing at the pounding in your head as you blurt out.

“Mr Wayne, I–” 

He holds up a palm, silencing you.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

There’s a pause, one in which he looks down at you before sitting down with a sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“I don’t care that you stole from me. Usually, I'd just file a police report and go about my day, but my son… Well, you upset him.”

He leans back in his seat, unbuttoning his blazer.

“You see, he’s a prideful boy. It’s never caused problems before, at least, not like this. I mean, involving a civilian, that is. But you seem to have struck a nerve. He’s holding quite a bit of animosity towards you.”

Bruce leans forward again, elbows resting on his thighs as he regards you with a critical eye.

“And I’ll admit, you caught me too, to a degree. You broke into my home without my notice. You were right under my nose.” He huffs a disbelieving laugh, as if the very idea of you evading him was impossible. “It’s impressive, I won’t deny it.”

A strange flutter fills your chest, something that feels oddly akin to pride. Bruce Wayne of all people was complimenting you. Or, at least, it felt like a compliment. 

“Why is he so upset?” 

You regret the question the instant it leaves your mouth. His gaze, which had been slowly warming up, turns cold and flat at that.

“...because you slipped right by him. Do you understand what a feat that is? How much you’ve wounded his pride? For you, an untrained young woman from the slums of Gotham to have fooled him, a trained assassin. Robin. You understand, don’t you? He took it as a very personal offence.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Was this some kind of twisted punishment for stealing? Did this man, Bruce Wayne, really expect you to believe that his son, the sweetheart of Gotham’s high society, was the Robin? And an assassin to boot?

He huffs a silent laugh, brows raising as he regards the expression on your face.

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s shocking. Damian Wayne, Robin? You’ll get used to it.”

Your hands are shaking now, sweaty and white knuckled as you clutch the bedsheets, and you feel your blood pressure rising. If you weren’t careful, you’d pass out soon. Swallowing thickly, you ask the question urgently gnawing at the forefront of your mind.

“If he’s Robin, then…?”

A small smile tugs at his lips. He was handsome, in an older gentleman kind of way - tall, strong, sturdy build. Even the wrinkles and lines marring his face looked attractive. No wonder women fell over themselves in an attempt to catch his attention.

“Yes. You catch on quickly, don’t you? Well, that’s to be expected from Gotham’s own do-good Robin Hood, I suppose. Yes, I am Batman.”

A choked noise dies out in your chest. 

Of course I’d steal from Batman. Of everyone in Gotham, this is who I choose? God, why is my luck so shitty?

His admission sows a seed of unease in the pit of your stomach, and your eyes dart around the room for the first time since you’d arrived. It was large, larger than what you were used to, though the only furniture was the bed, a vanity, and a small couch near the window. The window that was locked tight, covered with solid iron burglar bars. Bars you had the sinking feeling were put there to keep you in.

You turn to him, eyes wide and pleading.

“Why are you telling me all this?” 

He stands, posture straight and assertive as he eyes you callously. “Because, unfortunately, your actions, and my son’s impulsive decision have both pushed me to make a decision I have no choice in. It means that, until we decide what to do with you, you won’t be allowed to leave–”

Evidently, his admittance to essentially abducting you is what sends your blood pressure through the roof. You pass out before he finishes his sentence, praying with the last of your fading consciousness that this was all some twisted nightmare.

[imtryingbuck]

He doesn’t know.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Tony date until he breaks your heart, he soon regrets it.

Word count: 1,800

Warnings: angst. cheating (sorry). Tony’s 40 readers 28. Swearing. pepper is terrible (sorry) mentions of miscarriage.

Masterlist

You had been dating Tony for the past three years, you met when he bumped into you in the restaurant you worked at. The air was knocked out of the both of you, you not only because you hadn’t expected to be nearly knocked down on your ass or the feeling of a strong arm wrapping themselves around your waist just before you hit the ground. Him because he wasn’t expecting to knock into the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

From that day on Tony came into the restaurant just to see you, spending money on food he didn’t eat sometimes he would just sit at the bar and talk to you if you were manning it.

Six months after your initial meeting he asked you out even though there was an age difference between the pair of you, you said yes.

Everyday since you two were dating was different, he spoiled you to no end from expensive gifts to lavish trips to beautiful places. The love you two shared was something you never experienced before, it was pure. It was genuine.

You had never been happier.

For the past five months Tony was becoming distant from you, he was always working on projects that he never let you in on which you understood, you didn’t need to know the ins and outs of his business. Whenever you were lucky enough to spend time with him he was on his phone texting. When he came home from work he would go straight into the bathroom and you’d be lying in bed hearing the shower running.

For five months you tried and tried to get him to slow his work schedule down worried for what it was going to do with his health but all he replied with was yeah I will, but it never happened.

Today was your four year anniversary and since he hadn’t said anything about what you two would be doing you had decided that you’d surprise him at work with a home cooked meal since you knew he wouldn’t leave to go to a restaurant as work was too busy. Hopefully he could spare thirty minutes of his time to spend with you. It was your anniversary after all.

Getting out of the car you walked into the tower, greeting the receptionist with a smile receiving one in return you go into the elevator. The higher the box went up the worse your nerves got.

It’s just Tony, you thought to yourself.

Once the door opened you looked around to see any of the hero’s you had become friends with in the now four years you had been with Tony but you couldn’t find anyone so you headed straight to Tony’s office. Knocking on the door twice you opened the door.

And that’s where everything that had been happening in the past five months where Tony had been acting strange and distant had all made sense.

The man you was in love with, the man you stood by when everyone slated him, the man that defended you publicly when you was being called a gold digger, the man who has now officially broke your heart.

That man was sitting on the couch in his office with a blonde woman sat on his lap. Lips locked together. Her shirt on the floor. His hands roaming her torso.

“This looks bad...”

That’s all what the man who you have loved for four years, the man who you have just caught cheating on you, said when he heard you drop the containers off food on the floor.

“What is it babe? Oh it’s you” the blonde said when he pulled away from her, she saw where he was looking so she turned to face you.

Your heart dropped.

It was Pepper.

With your eyes fixed on his you stumbled backwards knocking into the door frame on your way out. Turning around you walked as fast as your legs could carry you back to the elevator, with every step you took you could hear Tony behind you.

“Y/n. Y/n, baby slow down. Please just wait” thanks to the wait of the elevator he managed to catch up to you.

“Baby it-it’s not what-“

“How long?”

His heart clenched painfully at the way your voice sounded so small, seeing the way you flinched at him touching you crushed him. Tony knew that he only had himself to blame. He also knew he was going to have to tell you the truth, knowing for a fact that you were going to be leaving him forever when he told you broke his heart.

“Y/n-“

“How long”

“S-six mo-months” Tony’s stomach sunk when he saw your hand go flying to cover your mouth, hearing a muffled sob coming from you.

“W-why?”

“Y/n-“

“Why. Why Tony?”

“I-I-I…I don’t know”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he’s been cheating on you for the past six months. He doesn’t know why he’s cheated on you and thrown your three years relationship down the drain.

He doesn’t even have an answer to give you for breaking your heart into millions of pieces.

“Wasn’t-“ No. No you wasn’t going to ask that. No way was you going to ask the cheater ‘wasn’t I good enough’ or ‘what did I do wrong’. He was the one that cheated, not you. No way was you going to ask all the questions that you wanted to ask because he simply did not know why he had been cheating on you for the past six months with his assistant.

The same assistant that knew you two were dating.

“Y/n baby please-“

“Babe have you told her?” Pepper’s voice cut him off this time.

Tony’s eyes went straight to his shoes finding it easier for him to shake his head without looking at you.

“To-told me what?”

What could be worse than finding out that your boyfriend had been cheating on you for six months?

“I’m pregnant! We’re going to have a baby” 

That’ll do it. That was worse.

You and Tony agreed that you’d both start trying to get pregnant when you celebrated your three year anniversary. It just wasn’t working but you kept trying. Until eight months ago. You found out you was pregnant, the way Tony’s face lit up with tears streaming down his cheeks when you told him he was going to be a father engrained it’s self into your memory.

A month after that happy day you woke up to cramps in your stomach, Tony rushed you to the hospital where they told you that you had lost baby Stark.

Maybe that’s what drove him into the arms of another woman. A woman who was the same age as him. A woman that could give him what he’s always wanted.

A woman that simply wasn’t you.

“D-do you love her?”

Tony frowned at the question, he expected you to call him names or something. He expected you to tell him that he was worse than the devil himself but no, no you asked him if he loved Pepper.

“Y-yes”

“I-I wish you two t-the best.” Tony’s sad eyes filled with tears, the itch to ask him why he was sad for gnawed at you, Pepper looked smug.

Turning to Pepper you looked her in the eyes “you know the saying don’t you? What they do with you…they do on you”

You were rather proud of the fact that you didn’t stutter when looking at the woman who was sleeping with your boyfriend. Seeing her smug smile drop when she understood what you were implying turned your pain into satisfaction.

“Y/n?”

“Hel-hi Tony”

“I knew that was you, hi”

It’s been six years since you last saw Tony, a year after leaving you met a divorcee a few months after moving to a new town. Things moved quickly between the pair of you, a year after meeting him he proposed, a month later you were married, eight months later you gave birth to your daughter. Finding yourself pregnant four months after giving birth to Ali, several months afterwards you gave birth to twin boys Harvey and Jackson.

“Hi Tony. What are you doing here?”

Here being in the town you lived in with your family, here being in the car park of target.

“We had a mission just dropping off for some food, what about you?”

“I live here”

“Oh, so how have you been?”

“Fine. What about you?”

“Fine. Fine. I-I messed up Y/n/n badly! Turned out that the baby wasn’t mine an-and I’ve been trying to find yo-“

“Momma!” You turned around to find Ali running at you full speed, her pigtails flailing around as she got closer to you.

“Momma? Y/n is she mine?”

“No-“ you had to laugh at his question. Luckily he hadn’t touched you in them five months of him cheating on you, it was impossible for him to be the dad of your beautiful baby girl. “No she’s my husbands”

“H-husband?” Tony stuttered, eyes going straight to your ring finger. Heart sinking when he found a shiny diamond ring sitting there.

“That would be me, nice to meet a friend of Y/n’s. Baby the twins made me get them a new toy”

“Made you? Your an adult, they are only children”

“They’re scary babe”

Tony stood there awkwardly watching the interaction between the woman who he has never stopped loving, and her husband.

“T-twins? You have three kids?”

“Yeah, they practically run the house. Always outnumbered with the three little rascals” your husband said smiling proudly. “Oh by the way I’m Andy, nice to meet you.”

“Tony”

“Yeah I know who you are. Come on baby we need to get going home” Tony didn’t like the way Andy’s voice was towards him.

“Coming love. It was nice seeing you Tony, I’m sorry about the baby. I wish you nothing but happiness, goodbye”

You didn’t even let him say anything back to you before you took Andy’s waiting hand as he had Ali in his other arm.

Getting into the car with your husband after he got Ali into her car seat, you smiled at the twins and Jacob - your stepson - then at your husband.

After finding out about Tony’s betrayal you thought you would never find love and happiness again but life lead you to Andy, the man who made you feel loved more than Tony ever did. Andy made you feel happier more than Tony ever did.

“Let’s go home”

As your family’s car pulled out of the parking lot Tony’s eyes never left the vehicle.

He had lost his everything the moment he let Pepper kiss him that first time. Now six years on he had truly lost his world to another man.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[17020]

# I HEART PUBLIC RELATIONS (2)

in order to your boost your popularity as a lifestyle influencer, your manager decides to partner up with anri teieri and jinpachi ego, for a pr stunt with a man from one of japan's most famous content houses: BLUE LOCK.

the rules are simple: choose a man, post three videos together a week, post an (undisclosed) ad weekly, and interact with each other on social media. ooh! don't forget! the more chemistry between you two, the better.

STARRING . . . reo mikage, nagi seishiro, tabito karasu, yo hiori. fem reader!

CANDIDATE 5 — REO MIKAGE

USER: MIKAGE FOLLOWERS: 1.1M (100k were bought) CATEGORY: LIFESTYLE/FOOD

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!

you knew you were in for a wild ride once you stepped into the house and saw none other than the heir of mikage corp standing there, pointing his finger at you and stating "she looks pretty! i'd like to work with her." as if he was the one who got to choose. nonetheless, you agreed to work with reo as he seemed like a pretty loaded interesting guy.

turns out, reo is very sweet. the first tiktok you filmed with him was for his account, in which he offered to take you on a shopping spree, with him and you making silly outfits for one another (just casually picking the ugliest clothes in gucci??) and then trying them on in the dressing room. you were filming a vlog for your account too, and you were surprised when reo surprised you with a very stylish outfit for you and him, to "go catch some dinner tomorrow." wow mikage, very smooth. comments went insane because 1. who are you? new friend? untold lore? 2. you are drop dead gorgeous even in the trash outfits that reo picked for you? and 3. please be in more of reo's videos!!

the second tiktok was a dance trend, the da' dip dance. it was done in very uncomfortable clothes, which were the ones reo bought the day before. it was funny to see reo dancing in a suit and tie, and you with a floor-length gown, in the content house. nagi appeared in the background as he was in the kitchen, which caught the attention of viewers. you posted the same dance, except it was filmed inside the restaurant, because with reo mikage, there is no such thing as shame. he cleared the restaurant out anyway because he wanted privacy, though, so the only preying eyes were those of the servers. reo was visibly flushed in the video, and his excuse was the poor lighting of the restaurant. girl that restaurant had better lighting than a photography studio you are not fooling anyone.

the last tiktok you filmed with him was... a food review! reo's comments are always flooded with "oh my god when does this guy ever eat peasant food", so you listened and brought him some of your favorite fast foods for him to try. wingstop is the biggest hit as of now, so you ordered some wings and tenders through a delivery app for him to give an honest review. people loved your video, as they felt they could connect with you and reo over something so mundane. viewers commented on the fact that you and reo looked like and acted like a married couple, which ended up boosting both your accounts even more.

(UN)DISCLOSED AD . . . HELLO FRESH!

we know that reo's meals since he joined the content house were all takeout from fancy restaurants. so when he got approached by hello fresh for a partnership, he agreed in a heartbeat. he made a video with you, the two of you preparing a nice, healthy dinner with the package from hello fresh, captioning the video "date night at home!" with clips of him behind you helping you cut some vegetables, making juice standing next to one another, and hands brushing every so often. fans were amused that reo finally opted for something other than takeout, instead preferring to spend quality time with you by cooking.

"Baya doesn't cook for me anymore, so me and bae always count on @.hellofresh #hellofreshpartner #ad"

THE VIEWS SKYROCKETED! BECAUSE . . .

because reo's lifestyle is extremely lavish, and you were one of the few who got to experience it to the fullest. reo looked like a lovesick puppy around you, and it wasn't hard to notice. he spoiled you rotten, and people could tell due to how your room slowly became flooded with designer after the first week of filming with reo. lovebombing much? the stunt was marvelous, with each of you gaining around 500k followers from it. to celebrate, reo booked a villa in marbella for the two of you to unwind and relax, wanting time for the two of you to get to know one another. plus, more content for the socials!

CANDIDATE 6 — SEISHIRO NAGI

USER: NAGI (reo bought it for him) FOLLOWERS: 940k CATEGORY: GAMING/LIFESTYLE(?)

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!

the reason nagi actually went viral is interesting, which is why your management team chose him for you. he went viral because he was in reo's video in the background, and people began to fawn over the shy giant on their screen. he started streaming on twitch and also posting a few tiktoks, which gave him a boost on his overall social media presence. his management came into contact with yours for the stunt because they desperately wanted him to reach 1 million followers.

the first tiktok you filmed on his account was entirely on accident. you were going to film a vlog with him at the house as he didn't want to leave the house at all that day. he pressed record on his phone, and accidentally cut the video way too short. in the frame were you and him, with him saying "um, is this thing on?" and you trying to fix the framing of the camera, "nagi, can you move the cam—" and the video got posted instead of being saved as a funny draft. people were confused as to why that was posted, but it got around 10 million views. fans wanted to know who you were, and they were going to find out soon.

the second tiktok you filmed was for your account, with you preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner as the "private chef of a famous lazy influencer", it didn't take long for people to put two and two together, seeing nagi in the background and making the video go viral. fans were happy that nagi was finally eating something healthy, and they loved the way in which you laughed at his sleepy self wandering around the kitchen, and also adoring his cute reactions to your food.

for the last tiktok, you gathered clips from nagi's stream, in which you and him played dress to impress. he had bought the two of you vip before filming, which made the competition between you two even funnier. nagi's outfits were absolutely horrendous, with the comments begging you to help him out. he agreed, saying that "i mean, y/n's beautiful and she's got great taste, so she needs to help me out." people did not know what your beauty had to do with your taste in fashion, and came to the conclusion that nagi was beginning to harvest feelings for you. he was way too blunt for his own good.

(UN)DISCLOSED AD . . . CELSIUS!

nagi got reached out to by celsius, as his brand as a gamer required him to constantly be sipping on energy drinks. he filmed the ad with you, as the video focused on you and him sitting next to one another, his head on top of yours. nagi took a sip of the celsius can and then passed on to you, with you doing the same. nagi was too lazy to come up with his own caption, so he copied and pasted one of the many which celsius sent him as an idea. people noticed right away because 1. seishiro nagi does not use caps. 2. seishiro nagi does not use emojis. 3. seishiro nagi does not add captions to his tiktoks. people laughed at his laziness, and saw how he genuinely smiled in the ad by sharing his drink with you. there was a ship name created, and the tag started trending...

You KNOW it's serious when you share a Celsius... 😘❤️👀 @.celsiusuk #Celsiuspartner

THE VIEWS SKYROCKETED! BECAUSE . . .

because nagi smiled whenever he was with you. he started being less aloof in his videos and streams, which caught the attention of the public. they started to wonder what kind of drug you were, because you had nagi HOOKED. he was looking only at you on every video you filmed with him, and he looked for every excuse possible for him to be close to you. it was like watching a little kid fall in love, and you both gained 300k followers from it. when he hit one million followers, you decided to throw a mini surprise for him in his room, and when the video was posted, people saw that for the first time, seishiro nagi willingly threw himself at someone with a biiiig bear hug.

CANDIDATE 7 — TABITO KARASU

USER: OSAKASSASSIN FOLLOWERS: 760k CATEGORY: PSYCHOLOGY/LIFESTYLE

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!

when you entered the house and saw none other than tiktok's clown psychologist tabito karasu, you held in your laugh. yes, he loved to analyze people, but that ended up combining with thirst traps and becoming his social media personality. once you got to know him when planning, you realized he wasn't that bad at all.

of course, the first thing karasu suggested you do was a mini series of "advice on how to get a girl" in which he explains the most basic advice on how to ask someone on a date. i wouldn't be surprised if his fanbase were children aspiring to be him, but anywho. he starts off by filming a "so you know how i'm always preaching about how to treat a woman right? we're gonna put it to the test" and proceeds to take you on the best date of your life. he surprises you with flowers, drives you to a nice restaurant, pays for your dinner, takes you for ice cream, and the high and mighty tabito karasu lets you win at every game in the arcade he drags you to. the end of the tiktok contains a screenshot of your text saying "i'd go out with you again :)" and the fans went off in the comments. he didn't show your face, but he did mention that he helped take pictures of you with the plushie he won for you at the arcade.

the second tiktok was on your account, which was an aesthetic video of "come to the arcade with me!" and included clips of the date without seeing karasu. except for the fact that there was a clip of you and the plushie, to which people asked "who took the picture???" your response? "the worker! :)" and all of a sudden people were commenting on karasu's tiktok "yo you working in an arcade now???" and "did you take @.yn out on a date???" yeahhh. you posted on your instagram with the plushie, and also a pic of two ice cream cones, with the caption "late nights" and karasu was tagged at the very end. there were more than 100k comments on your post, gushing about how the two of you seemed like a cute couple.

the final tiktok was a dance trend, filmed at your home (karasu insisted, because "the house is too crowded, and it would ruin the tiktok" ok pretty boy). it was the dumb dick dance, and what karasu didn't expect was for you to not do the dance and hit him straight in the nutsack instead. karasu fell to the floor and people thought it was so funny that the king of rizz got absolutely owned by his date. some people strted commenting "deserved omg i can't stand the guy" to which you replied "well now he can't stand either!!!" you became an icon in the eyes of the public. congratulations.

(UN)DISCLOSED AD . . . POPPI!

another drink guy! karasu partnered up with poppi's healthy sodas because sodas magically cure depression. don't ask me! ask dr karasu. his ad for poppi included a fridge restock, with the whole upper shelf of the fridge being different poppi flavors, as "my girl likes sodas, so i wanna make sure she gets the best of the best. stay healthy, choose poppi." queue the montage of you and him being happy drinking doc pop and the comments saying "for fucks sake just buy regular dr pepper.... cute tiktok i suppose." people were divided, as some said to buy regular coke, and some said the lovesick look you had while filming made them accidentally buy 500 poppi cans.

cleanse your gut, cleanse your mind ✨ @.poppi #poppipartner

THE VIEWS SKYROCKETED! BECAUSE . . .

because karasu is one flirty hoe. he was constantly referring to you as the 'baddie' on his videos, and always having his arm around you. people pointed out that since being with you online, he stopped posting thirst traps, and when asked why, he simply answered "those are for my girl now :)" this man was in too deep he cleared the roster. he cleared his online bench. for a stunt? mhhhmm. you both gained around 100k followers, as your fanbases already knew one another. it was bound to happen. karasu asked you to be his girlfriend around a month after the stunt, and you knew it was coming due to the change in his content from "how to get every girl" to "how to get THE girl". the internet knew something was up when he suddenly started posting "how to be a good boyfriend" cheers to the newlyweds!

CANDIDATE 8 — YO HIORI

USER: HIORIYOOH FOLLOWERS: 1.3M CATEGORY: GAMING/TECH

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!

you didn't even have to go inside the house, as hiori had sent you a dm about a potential collab due to his management team and yours coming to contact with one another. you did a stream playing dress to impress, in which hiori commented "let's play together sometime! check your dm :-)" (written by karasu, sent by karasu) and you agreed to his invite to play roblox together.

hiori isn't on tiktok much, so the first tiktok you did was a promo for his livestream, in which you and him decided to play chained together. it was funny to see hiori and you yell and struggle, eventually giving up on the game and ordering takeout while on live, and just becoming a regular hangout. hiori showed a side of himself no one expected him to have—a sociable, extroverted side of himself, as you were so easy to talk to according to him. he was all giggles and smiles with you, which is why he ordered takeout as an excuse to spend more time with you. hiori ended the live and continued getting to know you, with his social media being confused as to why he decided to stop the live so suddenly, with the words "HIORI", "LIVE", "Y/N", "SIMP", and "STOP" trending on x.

the second tiktok filmed was on your account, which was a comic con vlog. hiori was invited as he was a streamer, and he took you with him as his plus one. he asked to cosplay with you, with him being link and asking you to be zelda. cosplay was actually a big word, as you did inspired outfits, but they were obvious enough for everyone to know who you were. which inspired lots of fan pictures, with hiori fan accounts posting them and being like "the couple is at comic con!!!" and starting huge threads on every interaction you two had. the pictures fans took all focused on one thing: hiori's reactions when speaking with you. all smiles by the way. who is this man???

the final tiktok was for your account, and you planned this along with nanase and isagi. you went to the house as hiori had invited you to film both of you playing league of legends before the second part of arcane came out. you and the boys stood outside of hiori's room, knocking the door. once hiori opened it, isagi threw a bouquet towards hiori, with you catching it before it hit him. you couldn't even ask if he was alright, as you got so lost in his eyes. so did he. it went viral. hiori was a whole tomato umemiya could have easily planted in his garden. hiori was definitely shocked and flustered while you filmed content for his socials, causing the internet to make youtube compilations of every time hiori smiled or blushed at the sight of you. millions of views.... millions.

(UN)DISCLOSED AD . . . RAID SHADOW LEGENDS!

there's no surprised he partnered up with raid, as most youtubers do. in order to do the ad, though, he made a SKIT. those typical, drew gooden-esque skits in order to introduce the ad in his video with you, with you participating with him, and even playing raid shadow legends alongside him. since it was a video, there was a clear indication that this was an ad, and people noticed how. again. you were the first person who brought him out of his shell to do a small skit for an ad. fans adored how you and him held in your laughs while filming, and even showed the bloopers for the ad at the end. in the bloopers, though, while you were in frame playing raid, hiori whispered that "you look real pretty here, y/n." he didn't edit his videos because he has an editing team, so when the video was published he noticed that fans could hear his off-screen commentary loud and clear. oops! someone fire the editing team real quick.

"you look real pretty here, y/n—anyway um, okay—look at the screen on your phone, then at the camera and say 'this video is sponsored by raid shadow legends" "this video is sponsored by raid shadow LEGENDS 💜" "how did you do that—"

THE VIEWS SKYROCKETED! BECAUSE . . .

hiori is an absolute sweetheart, whose face went beet red whenever you complimented him in every video. like isagi, mans is shy, give him a break, okay? whether it was your hands brushing against one another, or shoulders bumping while filming, you could see hiori tense up and have his face on fire from how hot it was. his eyes never left your figure if they weren't on the screen in front of him, which said a lot to his og fans. they witnessed a change in hiori, for the better! thanks to you, hiori started to bloom. due to this stunt, both of you gained almost 1 million followers, as the slow-burn was that interesting. hiori gained the balls to ask you out after that. people suspected that perhaps you were dating, but you always said you were really good friends. around five months later, the cat came out of the bag as there were pictures of you two leaving the same apartment, to which you had to clear the air. you had moved into hiori's apartment two months ago.

taglist (open, yippee!): @kaiser1ns @stunies @ryescapades @nyxypoo @littleplantfreak @heartkaji @maruflix @phinbie @vinomino @kunitsyn

[itsabouttimex2]

Eclipse Kings

Part Three: Wild Dawn

(Part One: Mountain Monkeys) (Part Two: Barbed Dusk) (Part Three: You Are Here)

(Extra One)

For almost all his life, Sun Wukong had never really known “want”, not for more than the few moments it took to decide he was going to pursue some fleeting and new desire.

The land itself seemed to conspire to his favor- he was borne to a thriving mountain of surplus and luxury, sparkling stream racing down each hill, bountiful orchards with boughs so heavy they dipper near to the earth. Even the horizon was generous, spanning sunrises to color his every lavish breakfast and hosting a banner of glittering stars to lull him to sleep.

He wanted for nothing, because when the world would not bend to his whims, he simply bent it himself- to the end result of power, luxury, and adoration.

His life was fraught with the inevitable turning of blades, stuffed full of motion, conflict, and inevitable triumph. His troop grew by the year, Flower Fruit Mountain knew nothing of suffering, and his treasury was brimming with relics.

A demon crowned eternal king of a flourishing mountain, untouchable and immovable.

What more could a monkey want?

Company, as it turned out. The varied little simians scattered all through the trees and bushes of his mountain were wonderful, of course- he cherished them all like his own children, and doted on each and every one of the little menaces.

But he still wanted more.

—-��—————————————————————

“That, little mortal, is when I joined my Sworn Brotherhood!”

The Great Sage Equal to Heaven smiles warmly at his recited memories, claws lightly sifting through a large collection of traditional clothing.

“We were going to lead a siege on that stuck-up realm of Celestials, but my darling moonbeam had an even better idea- why not start our own kingdoms? Instead of teaching those stuffy old fools how to respect us, we could just show them up and take all their little worshipping mortals away!”

You don’t say a word in turn, still bundled up in a fluffy towel, sitting on the nearest chair, idly watching through blank eyes. Since you hadn’t been willing to walk or respond, Wukong had scooped you up with a sigh and hurried off to his and Macaque’s shared changing room, given permission to pick out some old clothes of theirs to give you.

“Of course, all of the stuff that was supposed to be boring was, uh… a total mess. Y’know, like deciding on territories, drawing borders, figuring out taxes—ugh. Mortals do not like taxes. Sure like ‘em better than being eaten by demons, though.” He chuckles at his own words, shaking his head as if to dismiss the unpleasant memories of bureaucracy. Wukong pulls out a black ceremonial robe embroidered with purple thread and holds it up against you, squinting as if he’s considering how it might look.

“…no. My sweet moon wouldn’t like you wearing this.”

“…s’it “too nice” for me?”

“…you mortals really aren’t the best with self-esteem, are you? No, little villager- it’s because he wore something like this when we were married. After that, he started commissioning seamstresses to make him more clothes like that robe… the actual thing is framed in a glass box over our bed. I don’t understand why Mac wanted that, but I can’t ever say no to him…”

Wukong’s voice trails off, tone softening as his gaze drifted to the ceiling. A smile plays on his lips, barely restrained, as he’s replaying his dearest memory of Macaque on repeat. You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond, the weight of his affection for his moonlit partner pressing against the silence.

He breaks it himself, but only after walking across the room and popping open lacquered wood chest, breaking the preserving sigil printed across it .

“You know,” says the king, his claws tapping the gleaming pauldron of gold within, “I wore this when we got married.”

He turns to the side, catches the fact that you’ve perked up even a little, and continues.

“It was the nicest thing I owned at the time- most of my outfits were skinned animals and stolen rags. This is something my brothers had given me, so it was the nicest thing I had that wasn’t my staff.”

Wukong’s fingers linger on the golden armor, tone rich with an ancient nostalgia. “I wasn’t one for fancy clothes back then- still coming around to it now- but I was even worse with it back then. I wanted to go in my tiger skirt and my old boots! But my brothers? Oh, they insisted: “You’re getting married- you can’t just show up looking like a bandit on your wedding day!” So they gave me this, and a nice red robe with a ton of silly characters embroidered into it- it’s framed right next to my mate’s robe, now.”

Say something. You need to say something. You can’t just mumble and mutter if you want to stay in a king’s good graces, can you?

“…do you… remember your vows?”

He perks with a smile, intrigued by the random question, entirely missing how dangerously close you are to cracking.

“Well, if that’s want you want to know, how about I tell you about the whole ceremony? Here, I’ll lay out how it went…”

——————————————————————

Macaque shuffles in place for a moment, old meekness returning to him- his hands twitch, and the notes smoothly inked onto the sleeve of his silk robe catch in the light, drawing his aureate eyes downwards. The crowd all around is nervous mortals and drunk demons, dressed in red or black or gold, held at peace mostly by his eager “brothers”. On Azure’s lap and shoulders are several children, more interested in his blade and snout than the ceremony. He’s smiling, more at ease than any other here.

The others for the most part are doing alright. Peng is preoccupied with their drink, casually allowing themselves to be marveled at by a blacksmith and a jeweler- though neither are allowed to touch, both mortals are fervently etching the gilded designs into their paper scrolls. The avian flaps those glimmering wings on occasion, causing streaks of light to flash over the modest venue, catching across the polished tiles.

Yellowtusk sits on a carved stone chair, marking the attendants in a neat ledger, made oversized to fit his hands. Several troops of Long-Tailed and Crab-Eating Macaques play on his trunk and tusks, their little fingers deftly taking hold in the cracks of his thick skin to ascend it. They don’t ever distract him for more than a few seconds, even when the youngest cubs forget their manners and start chirping in his ears.

The largest of their Brotherhood stands at attention in the doorway, toying with the straps of his battle axe. His face is painted with a rarely seen apprehension, looking back and forth over the room on occasion. Sometimes his gaze stills on a veil-shrouded woman with painted lips, and then he smiles for a moment.

The Demon Bull King is not nearly as subtle of a man as he thinks.

Not that it matters- when, for all that (which is very much) his Sworn Brothers know he’s courting a Celestial Maiden, they’ve chosen to keep an oath of silence on the matter.

(“He’s our big guy,” as Wukong had put it during one meeting months ago. “And we want that goofball to be happy.”)

(All of them- even Peng- had toasted to that notion, in the general direction of the bull’s empty chair.)

The mortals are safe. His brothers are content. He can do this.

Once more the dried notes on his sleeve catch Macaque’s attention, snapping him from the venue and to his golden love.

One last time he goes over them, dedicating those practiced words to memory.

He takes a breath, and turns to the audience.

“My mate-to-be is… molten gold, kissed by the rising sun. Beautiful is a shallow word to describe him- he is a masterpiece, a divine work of art carved by the heavens themselves. His eyes hold the all the world’s fire within them, blazing with the brilliance of a thousand sunsets. His laughter is a hymn to freedom itself, a melody I pray to hear every day for the rest of my life. When I look at him, I don’t just see a king, but the very heart of my existence, the axis upon which my world turns. He is my sun, my storm, my sanctuary, my everything.”

Several of the softer mortals are touched by his speech, lifting their cotton sleeves to the very corners of their eyes. Others only lightly clap, still uncomfortable at being called to the union.

Macaque does not have time to look away from before Wukong’s ginger-furred paws clasp onto his shoulders, holding tight.

There are no notes, no hours of reciting, no time spent with helpful Sworn Brothers to listen and offer advice, no matter how snarky- Sun Wukong simply turns from the crowd and offers himself.

“Macaque… I love you. I want you to be my mate forever. Until the sun goes dark.” Wukong's tail flicks behind him, expression softening with a rare blush. "Because... you're part of my story, bud. You’ve always been a part of it. And I'm tired of pretending like I can write the rest of it without you. Be mine forever and let’s be mates.”

The world is blurry, at least to Macaque. Nine and a half seconds prior he had thought there’d be some disappointment to push through, delivered an insincere joke or a vow written by another’s hand.

But there was only been Sun Wukong, love of his life, smiling at him.

“I will be your mate,” he chokes out, “forever. Until the sun goes dark.”

——————————————————————

“We’ve never been apart since then,” he purrs, dragging one claw over a hanfu the color of a sky on a gentle morning, toying with the white sash to untie it. “Not even for a day.”

Before you have a chance to respond, he plucks up the garment and holds it out to you. The size difference between him and the outfit is comical, and you wonder why these two demon kings have it in the first place.

“This should fit you, bud! Here, let’s get that towel off-“

You scream.

It’s not particularly loud or long, or even desperate- but it’s a scream all the same.

Worse still for yourself, you take this hysteric moment to lay on some shaky remand.

“NO! No more! Just stop touching me! I don’t- I d-don’t like it! You’re- you’re twice my size and you keep- you and him are always getting in my face and- a-and putting your hands on me, and I- I’m am so, so sick of it! I am not an o-object! I am a person! I am a person! I-“

“Quiet. Now.”

Wukong’s golden eyes narrow as he stands there, the weight of his presence pressing down on the room like a thundercloud ready to burst. His tail flicks sharply, but his voice remains measured.

…there are tears rolling down your eyes now, lost in the fluffy expanse of the towel around your body, sopping uselessly away as the king takes two footsteps to your form, frowning.

Not that it does anything to settle the rapid beat of your heart, crushed by the newly oppressive atmosphere.

“…you’re scared. I understand that. And maybe my moonbeam and I, we’ve been a little too hands on. That’s on us. But this my pagoda, and I did not build it by hand so that a little guest could yell at me. You know that you’re not a prisoner here. The doors aren’t locked, and there aren’t guards stationed outside them… now. I’ll let you get dressed- alone- and then you can eat. And…

“And no more touching without your permission. Okay?”

“…m’sorry. F-for yelling.”

“…I’m not mad,” he lies, one hand shifting to condescendingly pat you on the head. “I forget- my brothers, and my mate, too- we yaoguai just aren’t the same as mortals. You little things are scared too easily, and break so quickly.”

Something about hearing that is humiliating, but you don’t dare argue with him. Instead, you hunch your shoulders and cling to the towel, sniveling down at the floor.

Wukong’s frown softens the longer he watches you cry, all the sharpest edges of his irritation melting away into something closer to pity.

“I’ll leave it here. Call if you get lost looking for the kitchen.”

His words are painfully curt, and then the king is gone, golden beads and silk robes swishing behind him with each step.

You were never close, and only ever tangentially in the “good graces” of these kings. It’s not like you’ve shattered some precious bond.

But you still feel bad.

You wouldn’t, not usually. But as you unwrap the towel and begin to dress yourself in the lovely hanfu left draped over the chair nearest to you, the aches and pains of yesterday’s chase down the mountain weigh on you, just as MK’s new identity and newer happiness strike a deep point of insecurity- that you simply weren’t good enough to take care of him.

You weren’t good enough to provide for him anymore.

You wanted to believe you were more than them- strong enough to survive on your own, to fight your way through the world with MK in tow. But the truth was harder to face: Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque were meteoric gods, and you were just a mortal caught in the tides of their myth.

And where MK was thriving in this ecliptic chaos, you instead were already cracking under pressure after only a day spent before the kings.

…there’s a lovely silk pouch, dyed the color of new lavender blooms, hanging from the hanfu- you only notice it after tying the sash into a decent bow. The soft texture grounds your tumultuous thoughts, and a powerful aroma steadily drifts from within.

You fiddle with the tie and open the sash, revealing a dried bundle of orange blossoms tightly tied together, each stem marked with a glittering mystic sigil- 提高.

Whatever scent they would’ve had already was amplified by the marking, causing a heavy flow of fresh floral scent to ooze from the little purse.

You lift it and take a deep breath from the bag, allowing the veil of citrus aroma to utterly cloud your mind, providing it a much needed fog to rest under.

The soothing haze is slow to fade, even after you’ve pulled away and sealed the bag, but eventually you are left with only your steadied thoughts in the ornate chamber, amongst fine silks and polished wood, treasures of centuries past hung casually about It’s beautiful—almost too much so.

A reminder that this world of theirs is not the same of yours.

But you would not stop trying to survive in it.

You couldn’t.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hiii I’ve never really requested before BUT I had a dream and I just needed more !!! so could you do fem idol reader and hyunjin are both Versace biggest ambassadors both of them extremely close with dontella and she and soo many fans calls them both lthe Versace prince and princess so they both announce there relationship at the Versace event and they model together please add or change whatever you want I just needed someone to hear this ❤️❤️❤️

I adore this. So here you go Sunshine I hope you enjoy <3

Hyunjin x Female!Reader

The atmosphere inside the lavish venue felt alive with glittering lights, the hum of excited conversation, and the scent of luxury that permeated the air. Every corner of the ballroom reflected opulence, from the velvet curtains embroidered with gold to the grand chandelier illuminating the faces of the most influential names in fashion. Tonight wasn’t just any fashion event—it was the event. Versace’s exclusive gala.

And it was the night that everything would change.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror in your hotel suite, adjusting the final touches on your gown- a custom-made Versace piece crafted just for you. It was a masterpiece, designed with intricate lacework, sharp tailoring, and accents that hugged your frame like it was painted onto you. The colors shimmered, catching the soft lights in the room, making your skin glow as if the dress itself was made of moonlight. Your reflection smiled back at you. This wasn’t just any gown. It was a statement.

There was a knock on your door, followed by your manager’s voice. "You ready?"

You took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing down your dress. “As I’ll ever be.”

As you stepped out into the hallway, the hum of anticipation vibrated in your chest. This night would be special. Not just because you were about to walk the red carpet for one of the biggest events of the year but because he would be there.

Hwang Hyunjin.

It was impossible to think of Versace without thinking of Hyunjin- just as it was impossible to think of Hyunjin without thinking of you. The two of you were like magnets, drawn together by fate and fashion. From the first time you met during a Versace campaign shoot, your chemistry was undeniable. Donatella Versace herself had coined the term "Versace Prince and Princess" after that fateful shoot, and the media had run with it.

But tonight, you would reveal a truth that had been bubbling beneath the surface for months. The Versace Prince and Princess were now more than just friends, more than just ambassadors of the brand. They were in love.

Donatella had noticed long before you had even figured your feelings out. It was in fact her who had pushed Hyunjin so hard to confess after she forced a slip up from you confirming your feelings about Hyunjin.

Not only was she was a fashion icon, but a matchmaking genius. She had so easily spotted the potential for you and Hyunjin in the fashion world and in the romantic world. And tonight, under the flash of cameras and beneath the eyes of the fashion world, you and Hyunjin would finally the relationship that had come to be.

When you arrived, the red carpet was buzzing with energy. You could hear the camera shutters clicking at a rapid pace as soon as you stepped out of the car, the soft fabric of your gown trailing behind you like waves. The flashes blinded you for a moment, but you’d grown used to it over the years. You posed gracefully, giving the photographers what they came for- sultry looks over your shoulder, that perfectly practiced smile, the occasional wink.

But your eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for him.

And then, you saw him.

Hyunjin was standing at the other end of the carpet, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever in a tailored Versace suit that looked like it had been made with him in mind. His long hair was styled effortlessly, giving him that ethereal yet dangerous look that had the fashion world obsessed. He turned, his eyes catching yours across the carpet, and for a moment, it felt like time had slowed. The world faded away, and it was just the two of you, connected by the same invisible thread that had always drawn you together.

He smiled, that small, knowing smile that made your heart flutter. With that soft look in his eyes that assured you he too wanted to spend the rest of his life together with you.

The two of you had planned this moment for weeks. The way you would walk down the carpet separately, letting the anticipation build, before meeting in the middle in front of the world's cameras. Hyunjin had always been a showman, and tonight, he wanted the world to see just how much he adored you.

As you took a step forward, your heart pounded in your chest. The crowd seemed to hold its breath as you walked towards him, your movements deliberate, graceful. Hyunjin mirrored your actions, his long strides bringing him closer to you.

When you finally met in the middle of the carpet, the world exploded into flashes. You could feel the weight of the crowd's gaze, the media's eyes glued to the two of you, but none of it mattered. Hyunjin was all you could see. He reached for your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours, and together.

You expected for him to turn to the cameras, maybe say something. But instead, he leaned in and brushed the most delicate and tender kiss you had ever experienced to your lips.

The reaction was instantaneous. The crowd roared with excitement, the photographers calling out your names, trying to get the perfect shot. You could hear faint whispers- “Are they...?” “Is this real?” -but you and Hyunjin remained calm, your hands clasped tightly together.

Then, Hyunjin turned towards the door, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Ready?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with excitement.

Hyunjin turned back to the crowd, nodding and giving a slight wave as you two walked into the event.

There was a collective gasp from the audience, and you couldn’t help but smile. The cameras clicked furiously as you stood there, hand in hand with Hyunjin, the Versace Prince and Princess revealing their long-hidden secret.

You squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, glancing up at him, and he smiled down at you, his eyes soft with affection. This was your moment, and nothing could take it away from you.

But the night wasn’t over yet.

Inside the gala, the atmosphere was electric. Fashion icons, celebrities, and designers mingled, sipping champagne and marveling at the opulent displays of Versace’s latest collection. But all eyes were on you and Hyunjin.

Donatella Versace herself had insisted that the two of you model the final looks of the evening. It was a last-minute decision, but one that felt right. After all, you were Versace’s biggest ambassadors, and now, the world knew you were together. What better way to celebrate than by walking the runway together?

Backstage, you could feel the excitement buzzing through the air. Hyunjin stood next to you, his presence grounding you in the midst of the chaos. He was calm, collected, as always, but you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

“You ready for this, princess?” he asked, his voice teasing as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You laughed softly, adjusting the gold crown that adorned your head- a perfect accessory for your final look. “I was born ready.”

The music started, a deep, pulsing beat that reverberated through the room. The lights dimmed, casting a golden glow over the runway, and one by one, the models began to walk. You could feel the energy building as the final looks were unveiled, each one more extravagant than the last.

And then it was your turn.

Hyunjin offered you his arm, and together, you stepped onto the runway, the crowd gasping as you appeared. You walked in perfect sync, your heads held high, exuding confidence and power. The cameras flashed, capturing every moment, every step, but all you could think about was Hyunjin next to you.

This was your kingdom. The two of you ruled the fashion world as the Versace Prince and Princess, and tonight, you were untouchable.

As you reached the end of the runway, Hyunjin turned to you, his hand slipping around your waist. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "I love you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you." You planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

And as the crowd rose to their feet in applause, you knew that whatever came next, you and Hyunjin would face it together. Although it seemed like you already had the support.

Later that night, as the gala began to wind down and the guests mingled, you and Hyunjin found yourselves tucked away in a quiet corner of the venue, away from the cameras and the noise. The two of you sat side by side, your hands intertwined, enjoying the peace that came with the end of such a monumental evening. With his free hand Hyunjin played with your fingers, the flute of champagne he had long forgotten about as he was more focused on you.

“I still can’t believe we did it,” you murmured, resting your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “We really told the whole world.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m glad we did. I was tired of pretending and hiding. Do you know how hard it is not to look at you for long periods of time? You're so pretty and I love you so much that if I looked at you any longer than two seconds the world would have guessed in -3 seconds.”

You smiled, lifting your head to look at him. “Your dramatic Jinnie...”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the weight of the evening settling around you. There was so much that had changed tonight, but in a way, it felt like nothing had changed at all. You were still you. And Hyunjin was still Hyunjin. The only difference was that now, the world knew what you had known for a long time- that you were meant to be together.

Hyunjin’s hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “I love you,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your heart full.

And in that moment, under the soft glow of the lights and the quiet hum of the after-party, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Hyunjin would face it together.

Your love was more than just a story for the cameras. It was real, it was true, and it was forever.

The Versace Prince and Princess- together, always.

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

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[jmliebert]

hihiiii! if you take requests / suggestions, i’d loooooovvveeee to see something for halsin with an insecure partner, like maybe they’re insecure about scars or something like that, and how halsin would react to that (being as shameless as he is lol)

oh! I absolutely love this request, I was thinking about it for some time and came up with little something(s), enjoy ♡

♡ halsin turning your insecurities into unapologetic love (halsin x shy!reader)♡

Halsin has lived for a long time, long enough to see beauty through more than just limited lenses. He is wise and understands the ways of the world deeply enough to recognise that beauty is everywhere; in tall grass, in abandoned nests, in sunlight filtering through the leaves, in a mother's love, and in acts of kindness. He sees beauty in you as well, and it’s a shame you don’t see yourself the way he does.

"You're a gift of nature,"

he says, and he means it. To him, your scars are a testament to your story and a path leading to untold pleasure (one of many). He doesn’t merely see them; he reveres them. His lips trace every mark and line with a gentle touch, each kiss so lovely and intense it leaves you breathless. His hands explore your body with a passion. He finds beauty in your stretch marks, in the irregularities of your teeth, in every scar. To him, these are not flaws but unique traits that define you. And he loves you.

Halsin’s eyes are ever-watchful, never leaving your body. It’s impossible to hide anything from him for long, as his gaze is both penetrating and tender. He seeks to know and see everything because he desires to embrace all of you. He wants to cherish you completely because he is forever hungry when it comes to you.

During intimate moments, Halsin’s gaze becomes even more intense. Sometimes you catch his eyes flickering with a golden light, a hint of the beast inside him barely held at bay. He locks eyes with you even when he is buried between your thighs, giving you pleasure. He looks up at you, his eyes filled with unabashed longing and the curiosity of a lover, wanting to see if he’s making you feel good. He smiles when you nod at him, his lips and chin smeared with your wetness.

If Halsin shows naked in front of you and you find your eyes on the ground, suddenly all bashful (I would be bashful too, seeing him in his full glory out of nowhere) he smiles to himself; your reactions endearing to him. Then he gently takes your hand and guides it to his body, letting you explore his chest, face, his back, teaching you that it’s okay to touch, to look, to desire. He’s all yours, completely and utterly. His gaze never wavers, and if you try to look away again, he will softly lift your chin with a finger, smiling warmly with reassurance. He lets you touch his penis too, heavy on his thigh. And with every touch you give him, he melts, and moans quietly showing you how good you make him feel.

Whenever you express any insecurity, Halsin responds with an embrace that is both intense and passionate. He pulls you close, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt about him being completely feral when it comes to you. He inspects every part of you, worshipping each inch with kisses, caresses, and gentle bites. If you ever feel the need to hide your breasts (for whatever reason) or any other part of your body, he gently moves your hands aside and showers that area with loving attention.

“Never hide from me,”

he whispers, his voice filled with reverence.

So... yes, Halsin lavishes attention on the parts of you that you’re most insecure about, turning them into focal points of his erotic devotion. He kisses you with a primal need, making you feel like the most desirable person in the world—in his eyes, you truly are. He sees your insecurities as areas that demand his passionate adoration, ensuring that you feel cherished and loved through every touch.

He is often shameless (!), because he’s not afraid to show what he likes, and he intends to show it to you. His desire for you is vocal and unapologetically honest. He frequently whispers dirty words against your skin, his breath hot and heavy as he tells you how much he wants to take you right then and there. His passion is unbridled really. Basically he wants you everywhere, in every position, every state and he isn’t afraid to tell you so and it feels good, sooo good knowing he wants you so much.

“I love how you whine when I enter you,”

he might say, his voice thick with desire. He's not telling you this to make you shy of course, he just says it because he means it (so cool).

“I love the way you hold me with your legs."

"The frown between your eyes."

"The way your gaze changes when you desire me.”

(...)

His praises are specific and heartfelt, making you feel adored and seen. Halsin teaches you confidence and self-acceptance through his lovely and endless affection. He helps you see the world and yourself through his eyes, where every imperfection is a unique beauty. He even initiates intimate rituals to help you become more comfortable with your body, massaging you with warm oils, his touch both soothing and arousing. But it's not only that. He guides you hands to touch your body, explore it. Showing you how to find pleasure in your own skin.

Halsin treasures the moments when you reveal your insecurities, responding with love, acceptance, and tenderness. He never laughs or dismisses your fears, no matter how ridiculous they may seem. Instead, he offers soft smiles, wise words, gentle kisses, and loving touches that make you feel safe and wanted. Over time, he helps you believe in your own beauty and worth, which is truly wonderful !!!

In bed, Halsin delights in making you moan and whisper his name, using his expert touch and passionate kisses to dispel your insecurities. He believes that your pleasure is the most beautiful sound, and he works tirelessly to elicit it. He encourages you to express your pleasure openly, teaching you that there is no shame in experiencing such profound joy and ecstasy.

As your confidence grows, you begin to explore your sexual fantasies with him, and Halsin is always very (!) eager to make your dreams come true. He creates a safe space for you to express your deepest desires, responding with enthusiasm and acceptance. He sees you as a divine embodiment of nature’s beauty and primal lust, worshipping you with reverent and hungry touches that make you feel like a goddess.

Because to him, you are a goddess, and he worships you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

maybe, just maybe I got a little carried away....sorry

but also (!)

about these sexual fantasies, maybe you have some suggestions what could they be? I want some inspiration for some naughty short-story maybe, so please don't be shameful ;) and write to my inbox or sth, also if you want some particular headcanons featuring some characters from bg3 hit me up as well I'M THIRSTY!

and!

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡ hihi

[aventurineswife]

can you do under the mistletoe with the side characters too please? maybe with luke as a platonic parent/son one? ty!!!

All I Want for Christmas is You

Tags: Side Characters x Reader [Diavolo x Reader, Barbatos x Reader, Solomon x Reader, Simeon x Reader, Luke x Reader (PLATONIC‼️), Raphael x Reader, Thirteen x Reader, Mephistopheles x Reader], Romantic, Platonic (Luke!), Christmas, Mistletoe, Kisses and Hugs, Winter Special, Affection, Sweet Moments, Playful Interactions.

Diavolo

You and Diavolo are standing by the grand Christmas tree in the Demon Lord’s castle, both admiring the beautiful decorations. The soft glow of the lights flickers, and a mischievous smile crosses his face as he looks up to see the mistletoe hanging just above you both.

“Ah, it looks like we’ve found ourselves in quite the festive situation,” Diavolo says, his voice warm with amusement. He steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face, his golden eyes sparkling with affection. “I can’t resist the chance to share a kiss beneath the mistletoe, not when it’s with someone as wonderful as you.”

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, savoring the warmth of the moment. “This is the best part of the holidays, don’t you think? Sharing special moments with you.”

Barbatos

Barbatos, ever so graceful and composed, stands beside you in the lavish dining hall. The room is filled with laughter and the sound of cheerful conversations, but your eyes are drawn to the mistletoe above you both.

Barbatos smiles, the faintest glint of playfulness in his eyes. “It seems we’re at a crossroads, my dear. Mistletoe, after all, does have a magical way of bringing people closer.”

He gently takes your hand, guiding you toward him as he leans in. His lips meet yours in a delicate kiss, soft and tender, as though savoring the moment. “Merry Christmas,” he murmurs after the kiss, brushing a strand of hair from your face with the utmost care. "It would be impossible to celebrate without you by my side."

Solomon

The holiday festivities are in full swing at the Purgatory Hall, and as you wander through the halls, you find Solomon waiting under a sprig of mistletoe with a roguish grin on his face.

"Well, well, it looks like fate has decided to intervene," he teases, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I’d say it’s practically a sign that we should share a kiss, don’t you agree?”

You laugh, shaking your head at his playful attitude. Solomon steps in, closing the space between you, and plants a soft, teasing kiss on your lips. “Consider that a Christmas gift, my dear apprentice. Who knew your teacher could still surprise you?”

Simeon

Simeon watches you with a fond smile as the two of you walk together through the peaceful garden, where Christmas lights twinkle like stars. His expression softens as he notices the mistletoe above you both.

With a gentle chuckle, Simeon holds your gaze. “I suppose we have no choice, do we?”

He steps closer, cupping your cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing across your skin in the most tender of gestures. He presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips, his heart warm with love. “Merry Christmas, My Dove. I hope this season brings you all the joy you deserve.”

Luke

You catch sight of Luke, the little angel, near the mistletoe hanging in the hallway, looking up at it curiously. When his eyes meet yours, his face lights up with an innocent smile.

“Hey, MC! There’s mistletoe above us!” he exclaims excitedly. "That means I have to do something, right?"

You chuckle, squatting down to his level, and he hugs you tightly. “I may not be old (physically and mentally) enough to kiss anyone yet, but I can definitely give you a big hug!”

Luke wraps his small arms around you in a warm, sincere hug. “Merry Christmas, MC! You’re like family to me.”

You smile, giving him a gentle pat on the back. “You’re like family to me too, Luke. Merry Christmas.”

Raphael

Raphael is walking through the halls of the Purgatory Hall, lost in thought, when he notices the mistletoe hanging above you both. His brow furrows slightly, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he looks at you.

“Well, this is a bit unexpected, but I won’t complain.” he says with a rare, shy smile.

You can feel the warmth of his touch as he gently takes your hand, guiding you closer. His lips brush yours in a gentle, tender kiss, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he savors the closeness. “Merry Christmas, MC. You’ve made this season truly special for me.”

Thirteen

Thirteen’s chaotic energy fills the room, and you can hardly keep up with her constant bouncing around. As you walk under the mistletoe, she suddenly stops, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Well, well, well, looks like the mistletoe has spoken, huh?” she grins widely, all teeth and sparkle. “I guess we should make it official then, shouldn’t we?”

Before you can react, she grabs your face and pulls you into a kiss, her energy infusing the moment with a playful spark. When she pulls away, she winks. “Merry Christmas, MC! You’re the best!”

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles stands by the fireplace, a glass of wine in hand as he watches you approach. His lips curl into a sly grin when he sees the mistletoe.

“Well, this is quite the festive sight, isn’t it?” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can respond, he’s already closing the distance, his fingers grazing your arm as he leans in. His kiss is slow and deliberate, full of a smoldering intensity that leaves you breathless for a moment. When he pulls away, his grin only deepens.

“Merry Christmas, MC. I’ll be sure to make this a holiday you won’t forget.”

Posting this a month before Christmas 🫣🎄