#beyond the mirror image

[its-a-geeks-world]

Matt Dale was, among other things, author of Beyond the Mirror Image: The Observer's Guide to Quantum Leap, the quintessential QL guide, co-host of the Quantum Leap Podcast and fan of the series for many many years. He sadly passed away a few days ago. He's survived by his partner and son.

Just earlier this morning I was watching one of the interviews conducted by him. As part of the QL community I am heartbroken, sad and angry at the unfairness of life.

Thank you so much, Matt, for all the work you've done over the years and being a huge part of keeping the community alive for so long.

May your star forever shine upon us.

Please consider donating to the Gofund.me campaign to support his family through this horrible time. Thank you.

[quantumleapanalyses]

Way back in the day, I posted the Kickstarter for the book Beyond the Mirror Image. Now I have to post another, sadder, fundraising page.

Matt Dale (who wrote Beyond the Mirror Image, and has said he's taken some things from this blog for his book as well- went both ways there) recently passed away and his brother-in-law is now raising some money for funeral expenses.

[starlight-eclipsed]

Enjoy these doodles of Dark from A Dark Among the Lights by LuckyLectio (with a bonus Wild!)

[cottonspotten]

oh the arcturus beaming music video being about closeted teenage lesbians…. waow… that really recontextualises the whole song…

[forcedhesitation]

crazy how he just ignores everyone else and speaks directly to wyll. it's like wyll is like one of the most important characters in this game, or something.

[nasa]

Seeing the Invisible Universe

This computer-simulated image shows a supermassive black hole at the core of a galaxy. The black region in the center represents the black hole’s event horizon, beyond which no light can escape the massive object’s gravitational grip. The black hole’s powerful gravity distorts space around it like a funhouse mirror. Light from background stars is stretched and smeared as it skims by the black hole. You might wonder — if this Tumblr post is about invisible things, what’s with all the pictures? Even though we can’t see these things with our eyes or even our telescopes, we can still learn about them by studying how they affect their surroundings. Then, we can use what we know to make visualizations that represent our understanding.

When you think of the invisible, you might first picture something fantastical like a magic Ring or Wonder Woman’s airplane, but invisible things surround us every day. Read on to learn about seven of our favorite invisible things in the universe!

1. Black Holes

This animation illustrates what happens when an unlucky star strays too close to a monster black hole. Gravitational forces create intense tides that break the star apart into a stream of gas. The trailing part of the stream escapes the system, while the leading part swings back around, surrounding the black hole with a disk of debris. A powerful jet can also form. This cataclysmic phenomenon is called a tidal disruption event.

You know ‘em, and we love ‘em. Black holes are balls of matter packed so tight that their gravity allows nothing — not even light — to escape. Most black holes form when heavy stars collapse under their own weight, crushing their mass to a theoretical singular point of infinite density.

Although they don’t reflect or emit light, we know black holes exist because they influence the environment around them — like tugging on star orbits. Black holes distort space-time, warping the path light travels through, so scientists can also identify black holes by noticing tiny changes in star brightness or position.

2. Dark Matter

A simulation of dark matter forming large-scale structure due to gravity.

What do you call something that doesn’t interact with light, has a gravitational pull, and outnumbers all the visible stuff in the universe by five times? Scientists went with “dark matter,” and they think it's the backbone of our universe’s large-scale structure. We don’t know what dark matter is — we just know it's nothing we already understand.

We know about dark matter because of its gravitational effects on galaxies and galaxy clusters — observations of how they move tell us there must be something there that we can’t see. Like black holes, we can also see light bend as dark matter’s mass warps space-time.

3. Dark Energy

Animation showing a graph of the universe’s expansion over time. While cosmic expansion slowed following the end of inflation, it began picking up the pace around 5 billion years ago. Scientists still aren’t sure why.

No one knows what dark energy is either — just that it’s pushing our universe to expand faster and faster. Some potential theories include an ever-present energy, a defect in the universe’s fabric, or a flaw in our understanding of gravity.

Scientists previously thought that all the universe’s mass would gravitationally attract, slowing its expansion over time. But when they noticed distant galaxies moving away from us faster than expected, researchers knew something was beating gravity on cosmic scales. After further investigation, scientists found traces of dark energy’s influence everywhere — from large-scale structure to the background radiation that permeates the universe.

4. Gravitational Waves

Two black holes orbit each other and generate space-time ripples called gravitational waves in this animation.

Like the ripples in a pond, the most extreme events in the universe — such as black hole mergers — send waves through the fabric of space-time. All moving masses can create gravitational waves, but they are usually so small and weak that we can only detect those caused by massive collisions.  Even then they only cause infinitesimal changes in space-time by the time they reach us. Scientists use lasers, like the ground-based LIGO (Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory) to detect this precise change. They also watch pulsar timing, like cosmic clocks, to catch tiny timing differences caused by gravitational waves.

This animation shows gamma rays (magenta), the most energetic form of light, and elusive particles called neutrinos (gray) formed in the jet of an active galaxy far, far away. The emission traveled for about 4 billion years before reaching Earth. On Sept. 22, 2017, the IceCube Neutrino Observatory at the South Pole detected the arrival of a single high-energy neutrino. NASA’s Fermi Gamma-ray Space Telescope showed that the source was a black-hole-powered galaxy named TXS 0506+056, which at the time of the detection was producing the strongest gamma-ray activity Fermi had seen from it in a decade of observations.

5. Neutrinos

This animation shows gamma rays (magenta), the most energetic form of light, and elusive particles called neutrinos (gray) formed in the jet of an active galaxy far, far away. The emission traveled for about 4 billion years before reaching Earth. On Sept. 22, 2017, the IceCube Neutrino Observatory at the South Pole detected the arrival of a single high-energy neutrino. NASA’s Fermi Gamma-ray Space Telescope showed that the source was a black-hole-powered galaxy named TXS 0506+056, which at the time of the detection was producing the strongest gamma-ray activity Fermi had seen from it in a decade of observations.

Because only gravity and the weak force affect neutrinos, they don’t easily interact with other matter — hundreds of trillions of these tiny, uncharged particles pass through you every second! Neutrinos come from unstable atom decay all around us, from nuclear reactions in the Sun to exploding stars, black holes, and even bananas.

Scientists theoretically predicted neutrinos, but we know they actually exist because, like black holes, they sometimes influence their surroundings. The National Science Foundation’s IceCube Neutrino Observatory detects when neutrinos interact with other subatomic particles in ice via the weak force.

6. Cosmic Rays

This animation illustrates cosmic ray particles striking Earth's atmosphere and creating showers of particles.

Every day, trillions of cosmic rays pelt Earth’s atmosphere, careening in at nearly light-speed — mostly from outside our solar system. Magnetic fields knock these tiny charged particles around space until we can hardly tell where they came from, but we think high energy events like supernovae can accelerate them. Earth’s atmosphere and magnetic field protect us from cosmic rays, meaning few actually make it to the ground.

Though we don’t see the cosmic rays that make it to the ground, they tamper with equipment, showing up as radiation or as “bright” dots that come and go between pictures on some digital cameras. Cosmic rays can harm astronauts in space, so there are plenty of precautions to protect and monitor them.

7. (Most) Electromagnetic Radiation

The electromagnetic spectrum is the name we use when we talk about different types of light as a group. The parts of the electromagnetic spectrum, arranged from highest to lowest energy are: gamma rays, X-rays, ultraviolet light, visible light, infrared light, microwaves, and radio waves. All the parts of the electromagnetic spectrum are the same thing — radiation. Radiation is made up of a stream of photons — particles without mass that move in a wave pattern all at the same speed, the speed of light. Each photon contains a certain amount of energy.

The light that we see is a small slice of the electromagnetic spectrum, which spans many wavelengths. We frequently use different wavelengths of light — from radios to airport security scanners and telescopes.

Visible light makes it possible for many of us to perceive the universe every day, but this range of light is just 0.0035 percent of the entire spectrum. With this in mind, it seems that we live in a universe that’s more invisible than not! NASA missions like NASA's Fermi, James Webb, and Nancy Grace Roman  space telescopes will continue to uncloak the cosmos and answer some of science’s most mysterious questions.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[koimethehorizon]

Deltarune: The Image of Divinity and The Angel

(MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR CH 4 of DELTARUNE and UNDERTALE)

If you haven't found this scene, go back to the room where you have to avoid a bunch of Shadow Blobs shortly after reaching the Third Sanctuary. Find a way into the hidden room on the bottom right-side of the room (follow the broken path) and you'll see this at the right side of the hall.

This string of dialogue, especially Susie's uneasy reaction, creeps the hell out of me.

Whatever the Angel's identity is, its physical form is something so terrifying and beyond comprehension that even in the minimalistic style the Prophecy normally uses, Susie is stunned by the implications of just looking at it.

One brilliant theory that I've heard a couple of people mention already is that the empty space is meant to reflect our screens like a black mirror. We are The Angel in this interpretation.

That's just crazy, and I'm very into it.

I'd like to delve a little further into this train of thought that may or may not confirm this theory further.

Remember what the Titan looks like right before we fight it?

BALD

It's a human skull. Maybe even what the Titan's skeleton looks like underneath its divine angelic flesh.

When I first got to this section, I almost thought that the Titan would just be a full on human JPEG like Photoshop Flowey was in Undertale.

Speaking of which...

What... is this even supposed to be?

This is one facet of Undertale that's always been neglected because we've never found any concrete answers for what it could be.

For all we're concerned, it's just part of the absurd horror imagery that Toby is trying to invoke during this section, and we're not meant to think too hard on it.

Except...

Toby used this face as his pfp on Twitter until the release of Deltarune Ch 1. So either he's really proud of the damn face or there's something more to it.

I don't really have an answer for this, but what I will guess right now is:

I think this is what the Angel looks like.

Not the Omega Flowey face specifically, but it's likely a pixelated human face.

Consider the similarities between these examples. This distorted human imagery has been used twice to depict divine beings.

One showing Flowey ascending to a higher state of existence.

The other shows a nigh-unstoppable world-ending monster only depicted in legend.

And The Angel is something akin to Deltarune's Abrahamic God or The Savior. Churches and an entire religion are dedicated to The Angel, yet we only see it depicted as the symbol of the Deltarune.

Let's take a few steps back and return to the "The Angel is The Player" theory.

There's actually one big piece of evidence for this theory in Undertale:

Ominous how early Toby planted these seeds huh?

In Undertale, The Angel is 100% meant to be You on each of the 3 playable routes. Now "You" is a bit subjective because that noun could be applied to 3 candidates:

You "The Player"

Frisk the MC you control

Chara, the true identity of the red SOUL

Regardless of who The Angel refers to in this messed-up trio, one very bold statement is conveyed.

The Angel decides the ending of the story.

And we, as The Player, get to decide how this ending plays out.

To the characters of Undertale and Deltarune, yeah, that's divine power alright. A power that Spamton considered his ticket to [Heaven].

If this theory holds true, then that means a person behind the screen is the image of divine power. In Undertale/Deltarune The image of God is...

A REAL human.

[julymusings]

PORTRAIT

jason hates taking photos. it's a shame you find him so beautiful.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. Standing there with a fake smile, posing for a deceptively happy vignette of an unhappy reality feels awkward. He never knows what to do with his hands. He doesn’t like the way his face translates through the lens; the green of his eyes glows just this side of too spectral, his broad, stocky frame towers over that of his siblings, and the scars on his face bring memories of a darker time, an intentional carelessness for his life he used to carry. He leans away when others huddle together to smile. Pretends to notice something behind him when caught in the background of the lens.

Enter you. Only capable of looking at him with hearts in your eyes. Serving on a silver platter what he used to starve and scavenge for in dimly lit bars on the lips of women who only saw him as something to sink their teeth into and then spit out, never sticking around for longer than one night. Jason feasted at first, he’ll admit, stuffing himself to sickness on your unconditional adoration until it was almost too much to bear.

You take pictures of him and gush over them, telling him how pretty he is. How he belongs in a museum. He never believed you, never bothering to actually look at the pictures you take. But pretty soon he’s everywhere; you set him as your lock screen and screensaver, and print photos to frame on your bedside table. When your storage is maxed out, you steal Jason’s phone to flood his camera roll, and he finds that he keeps going back to stare at the photos you take. Selfies where you kiss his cheek and his mouth curves upward just enough to transform him from brooding to disarming; portraits where he looks, not at the camera, but just beyond and his eyes crinkle, the tips of his sharp canines peeking out over his bottom lip. He looks…different. Better. He starts to believe the things you tell him; his beauty is ancient. Michelangelo himself carved the contours of his body. The Trojans and the Greeks fought for a decade over him.

But what is it about this camera, he wonders, that makes his appearance digestible? Is it the way you frame him front and center, the backlighting sun rays extending in all directions behind him, encircling him with a holiness he doesn’t deserve? The scenery against which you capture him, busy nighttime streets under city lights, just dark enough to smooth out his rough edges? 

Or maybe it’s just you. Seeing himself from your point of view. Seeing himself as yours. His hooked nose, crooked from being broken one too many times, belongs to you for the early mornings when you trace down the bridge, around his lips, and up his jaw, drawing a portrait with your fingertips. His unruly hair, with streaks of white that make him stick out like a sore thumb, exists only for you to run your fingers through when he lays his head in your lap. His scars are for you to kiss on those difficult days until he can bear to look in the mirror again. He wants nothing more than to be a museum of all things you.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. But when you ask so nicely, showering him with compliments and promises of thank-you-kisses later on, how can he say no?

why are we as a society still striving for more definition and higher quality photos for anything other than, like, x-ray imaging and space exploration. I don't want 8k ultra-max hd in my phone that highlights every hair and pore and eye bag i want grainy and dark and fuzzy because it makes me look hotter and that's a fact. rant over

anyway he's so pretty i wanna take candids of him and kiss his face and squeeze his huge ti-*GUNSHOTS*

this is gonna be my last post for the next few weeks because i have finals. see you on the other side🫡 (born to be a farmer on a remote island, forced to study STEM) i'll be on requests as soon as i'm back trust

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ʜᴏᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ: ᴍɪɴɢʏᴜ ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A night out with your boyfriend takes an unexpected turn when his ex shows up at the same party with her heart set on getting him back. After catching her flirting with him you run off, deciding to continue your night without him but Mingyu's not letting you go so easily. He comes after you with full intentions of showing you that you're the only girl he wants and he'll do whatever it takes to prove it.

♡ Warnings: drinking, mingyu has a lil switch energy, dirty talk, some very wet oral sex (f receiving), mingyu loves your clit, tongue fucking, pussy drunk mingyu, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking, scratching, manhandling, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, pet names (baby, princess)

♡ A/N: Hello my darlings. This is the second entry or "track" in my Hot Girl Playlist series. This is the ✨masterlist✨ if you wanna check it out. As a chubby Mingyu biased babe I low-key had too much fun making this but, like, is that even possible? Anyways, I hope you have fun reading, my loves xoxoxo

“Bout 20 missed calls he faded. White boy wasted, Channing Tatum” - Megan thee Stallion

“Girl that man is blowing your phone up” your best friend smirks, squeezing in beside you to check herself out in the mirror. “What’d you lace your pussy with? Crack?” 

You almost snort laughing at her comment, “Shut the fuck up.”

“What?” she giggles, eyeing your phone as it vibrates on the edge of the sink, “It’s not my fault the boy’s addicted. You should answer him. You know how Min gets.”

Swiping a sultry nude gloss along the bow of your upper lip, you spare your phone a glance. It flashes a familiar name accompanied by a photo of you with the man in question. It’s a selfie from the last beach trip you took together. Your soft lips are pressed to his cheek and he’s making the cutest face, his nose scrunched up at the warmth your kiss sends rushing to his face. You vividly remember how happy the two of you were that day but right now happiness is the last thing that comes to mind when you think of him. 

Your phone stops ringing and for a moment there’s nothing. Only the muffled sound of music bleeding in from a party raging just beyond the door. And then another vibration. A text message.

Mingyu: Where are you? Did you leave? 

“He can get however he wants” you huff, shoving your phone into your purse, “He’ll get over it or he won’t. Either way.”

“Cold blooded” she teases, shaking her head, “Who knew you could be such a brat?”

A brat? You aren’t being a brat. Well, maybe a little but it’s not like you don’t have good reason to be. You know for a fact that she’d be livid if she were in your position. Five minutes. That’s how long you left Mingyu alone before his ex was all over him. You’ve never been ignorant to the possibility that he’d run into her again. They travel in the same social circles so it was bound to happen at some point. What you didn’t expect was for it to sting this much when it did. 

Your mind cruelly plays back the image of Mingyu’s ex cuddled up beside him on the couch, her fingertips at the ready to stroke his pecs through his shirt. To his credit, he did grab her by the wrist, saying something to her that you couldn’t quite make out. Whatever it was, it was clear from the look on her face that she didn’t like it, but it wasn’t until she noticed you approaching that she scurried back to where she came from.

He swore on his life that it was nothing. She’d come over flirting, he told her he had a girlfriend, and that was the end of it. But you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing him as to why she felt so comfortable coming over to begin with. Why was he just sitting there? Why didn’t he kick her clean across the room before she even managed to get that close?

Maybe that last one was a bit irrational but you were pissed. Making sense was the last thing on your mind. You walked off before he could answer, deciding that you weren’t gonna let this ruin your night out. If he wanted to stick around he had his own friends to hang with. You’d go off and do your own thing. You look way too good in this dress to let it go to waste. 

Mingyu started blowing your phone up almost immediately. Call after call with frantic texts sprinkled in between. You were positive that he must be searching every floor of this house to find you but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when you were busy downing shots and shaking ass on your bestie like she was your man. That distracted you from your emotions long enough but staring at your reflection in the mirror now you feel your gut twisting, a hint of sadness lingering behind your eyes. 

“I’m heading back out. You ready?” your best friend asks, heading for the door. 

You force a smile, pretending to dig through your purse for something. “I’ll be out in a sec. Meet me downstairs by the bar?”

“Fine but hurry up. I told those dudes we’d kick their asses in beer pong and I refuse to be proven wrong.”

“Because god forbid we ruin your beloved beer pong streak” you tease and she lovingly flips you off on her way out.

You keep that fake smile plastered on your face until you’re sure she’s gone and the second she is you deflate. You want so badly to keep up the facade of a girl unphased by anything but you’re phased. You’re phased so hard and nothing can change that. No amount of shots will make you forget how your heart sunk to the floor at the sight of them together.

You recall hearing that his ex was a model. She’d walked at New York Fashion Week once and made it into a few ads. By the looks of her you can believe it. It hurts to admit but the girl was gorgeous. What if, somewhere in the back of Mingyu’s mind, seeing her made him regret his decision? Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door that forces you out of your own head. 

“Someone’s in here!” you shout but the door knob’s still turning. Thank god you aren’t on the toilet right now. “I said someone’s in here!”

“I heard you,” Mingyu says as he forces his way inside, slamming the door behind him.

He gives you no time to process, pinning you against the sink before you can react. Muscular arms cage you in on each side, as his dark eyes stare into yours, his gaze sharp enough to slice you to pieces.

“I’ve called you, like, 20 times. Why aren’t you answering?”

You sigh, in no mood to be interrogated, “I don’t know, Min. I haven’t really been checking my phone.”

Mingyu sucks his teeth, the veins in his arms flexing as his grip tightens around the edge of the sink. “That’s bullshit. I know you’ve been ignoring me.”

You can tell by the rosy tint of his cheeks that he’s been drinking more than he should. If you’re being honest, you have been too. The mature thing would be to wait until you’re both sober to have this conversation but that ship has sailed. 

“I haven’t been ignoring you, you’re just wasted and paranoid” you snap, seeing nothing wrong with a bit of gaslighting under the circumstances. 

“Wasted and paranoid?” he scoffs, “Projecting a little bit aren’t we?” 

“Oh, fuck you. Get off me.”

You place your hands on his chest with every intention to push him away but when he hangs his head, regret washing over his face, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he says through a curtain of silky dark hair, “I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t want you to be mad at me.” 

“I don’t know how to not be mad, Min” you say, the sincerity in his voice tugging at your heartstrings, “I thought that part of your life was over.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, meeting your eyes with a gaze that’s much softer now. “It is over. It has been for a long time. If I knew she was gonna be here we never would’ve come. That girl doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re the only one who does.”

When you turn your head away leaving a long span of silence where your words should be, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look at him. His thumb sweeps gently across your cheek and you melt like ice cream on a sunny day. You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol or the ex thing but you’re hit with a sudden wave of emotion, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just don’t want you to regret choosing me” you confess, your voice breaking as you fight back tears. 

Mingyu can never stand to see you cry and it breaks him to know that you might, especially over something like this. “How can I regret choosing you when you aren’t optional? It’s not her or you. It’s just you. I love you. You have to know that.” You sniffle, a tear racing over the curve of your cheek. Mingyu wipes it away, the pad of his thumb soothing the spot where it fell.

“Tell me you know that” he pleads, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “I love you. What do I have to do for you to believe me? You want me to get down on my knees?” 

“I—” you start to speak but he’s already dropping to his knees, looking up at you with the sweetest doe eyes. “Get up off the floor.”

Mingyu rests his chin against the softness of your thighs, delighting in their warmth. “No. Not until you believe me” he says, planting tender kisses where your thighs meet, “If my word’s not good enough maybe my actions can be.” 

You snake your fingers through his hair, gently tugging his head back but his lips are drawn to your body like magnets. They’re back on you in an instant, his tongue dragging across the surface of your skin as his lips find their way to the hem of your dress. You watch with bated breath as Mingyu grabs you by the hips, gathering the fabric of your dress between his fingers. He raises it little by little, each kiss inching him closer and closer to his final destination. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, your body tingling in all the places his lips meet. 

How demure of you to ask that question when you already know the answer. You know very well why he’s pushing this skin tight black dress up over your waist, his tongue teasing the silk trim of your panties. The emotions you’re feeling tonight are enough to give you whiplash. One minute you’re storming off, the next you’re on the verge of tears, and now your pussy’s wetter than a faucet. What’s a girl to do? 

Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Mingyu buries his face between your thighs, his nose grazing the spot where your stiff little clit has just begun to throb. He nuzzles against it, sending faint notes of pleasure rippling through you. 

He draws in a deep breath, salivating at your scent. “You always smell so fucking good, baby” he hums, stroking the growing wet spot in your panties. “Always so wet for me too.” 

Mingyu tucks your panties to the side and you release the lightest moan at the sensation of the cool air meeting your dripping core. At the same time your nipples tighten behind the fabric of your dress and the combination leaves you purring. Your boyfriend’s not faring any better. He was hard before he got down here, just the thought of tasting you had gotten him there, but seeing your pussy be so pretty and wet has his cock pulsing against the unforgiving material of his pants. 

If only you could feel how badly he wants you—how he craves you every day in more ways than one—maybe then you wouldn’t question his devotion. When you wouldn’t answer his calls he swore up and down that he wouldn’t just let you get away with it only to fold for you in under a minute. He’s quite literally on his knees for you but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

“Aah, Min…” you whine when he plunges a finger into your warmth. 

Your purse tumbles to the ground, the contents spilling across the tile floor as you prop your elbows back up against the sink. A clumsy attempt at keeping your trembling body from giving out on you. It’s mind blowing how just one finger can feel this good. How such delicate strokes can make your walls clench so tightly. 

“You want more?” Mingyu asks, glancing up to you. He already has the next finger at the ready, ghosting your slit. You rock your hips towards that sickeningly handsome face of his and he sticks his tongue out, letting it glide over your clit. “Use your words, princess. I need you to say it. You want one more?” He introduces a third, stretching you open just enough to tease you with them. “Two more?” 

Your pussy’s aching, your walls fluttering wildly, doing everything to draw him in. You part your lips and the sexiest, neediest voice comes out. “Mmm, two more. Please, Min.”

Mingyu smiles, giving you exactly what you asked for. You were so polite with it. How could he ever deny you? It takes little effort on his part to guide the other two into you. Your pussy’s so eager that it sucks them right up, your juices saturating his fingers so that every movement makes a delicious squelching sound. It’d be a nice form of payback to toy with you for a while—make you beg for his attention after denying him of yours for the past hour—but that’d be torturing himself too. The taste of your clit lingers on his tongue and he knows that if he doesn’t have more he’ll go insane. 

His mouth crashes into you, his tongue hungrily lapping at your pussy like it’s the first thing he’s had all night. It may not be the first thing but it’s hands down the best. The satisfied groans he makes while circling your clit do more than enough to tell you so. It’s hard to keep yourself upright when he’s eating you out like this, his fingers drilling into you, stretching you so perfectly that your thigh’s quaking on his shoulder. You press your lips together, doing your best to keep quiet, but Mingyu will have none of that. He knows exactly where your sweet spot is and he hits it every time, destroying any chance you have at being quiet. 

“Don’t hold back, baby” he coos, pulling back to show you a face drenched in your juices, “I wanna hear all those pretty moans while you come on my face.” 

Slipping his fingers out of you, Mingyu grips your hips, lifting you onto the counter like it’s nothing. It stings when your plush ass hits the polished marble but there’s no time to process if there’s truly any pain. Mingyu’s hands are on your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the counter and spreading your legs wide. He dives back in, his tongue filling the space where his fingers once were. With one hand full of your soft belly, he uses the other to play with your clit, pressing down on the bud as his tongue rides the ridges of your walls.

You let your moans flow freely, all of the shyness leaving your body the moment his tongue enters it. You catch yourself feeling light headed and you know for sure this time that it isn’t the alcohol. Your hips stutter and Mingyu locks eyes with you, both of you knowing how dangerously close you are to your high. He moves faster—messier—slurping you down. You extend a shaky hand between your legs, lovingly petting his cheek as he pushes you to the brink. 

He locks his arms around your thighs, forcing you to stay in place while you squirt down his throat. Your body twists in his grip but it’s no match for his strength. You can’t run from this. He wants you to feel it and fuck do you feel it. Your vision goes blurry and you swear you go deaf for a minute. By the time you’re coming down you aren’t even sure which planet you’re on.

Mingyu takes his time standing up, getting his last few licks in as he rises. He’s so drunk off of your pussy that the room’s spinning a bit when he comes up. He clings to the counter for support, his lips glistening with your cum as he stands over you looking like he wants more. Sitting up, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for a sloppy, breathless kiss that tastes entirely of you. 

“You said you love me, Min?” you whisper between his lips. You sneak a hand between the two of you, rolling your palm against his bulge. 

Mingyu nods, moaning as he leans into your touch, “Mmhmm, love you so much.”

Popping the button on his jeans open, you slide the zipper down, dipping a hand into his boxers to stroke his length. “Then fuck me like you do.”

Your words are like gasoline to a flame that’s been raging inside of him since he planted that first kiss on your thigh. You’ve barely even finished your sentence when he’s sliding you off the counter, the back of your dress bunched up in his hand as he bends you over the sink. 

“Ooh, someone’s excited” you giggle, squealing as he snatches your panties down hard enough to make them rip. “I hope you know you’re buying me new ones.” 

You poke your ass out and he gives it a harsh slap just to watch it jiggle. “Keep being this cute and I’ll buy you whatever you want.” 

“In that case, I did see some shoes I liked the other day and…aaah” 

Mingyu rubs the tip of his cock against your entrance and you’re dizzier than you've ever been. He’s not even in yet, just barely stretching you open, but you’re so sensitive from your last orgasm that a light breeze could make you shiver.

Mingyu’s eyes flit back and forth between two visions he wishes he could burn into his brain. First there’s the reflection of you in the mirror, so pretty your bottom lip wedged between your teeth, hips rocking as he presses into you. And then there’s that glorious space between your legs, so creamy and warm, trickling juices with every inch it’s fed. The whimper that escapes him when he bottoms out makes you clamp down on him, his cock twitching in your core, his arousal slicking your walls. 

Grabbing your ass cheeks, he spreads you open, stretching you wider. “You know who this cock belongs to. Don’t you, baby?” 

“I…I don’t know” you tease, “Is it mine?” 

Mingyu draws back a bit, thrusting into you so that your lush breasts bounce from the impact. “You tell me.” He pulls back again, his hips snapping into you even rougher. “Does it feel like it’s yours?”

“Aah, fuck, yes it’s mine” you moan, heels scraping against the tile as your back arches.

He rewards a good answer with an increase in pace, each stroke faster than the last. If Mingyu had to compare being inside you to any feeling in the world he wouldn’t be able to do it. His brain can’t grasp a single thing on this planet that can even come close to this. You could stimulate all his senses at one time, flood them with every pleasure known to man, and it’d still be nothing compared to you.

In the midst of your own bliss you catch glimpses of him behind you, fucking you like it’s all he was ever made for. He’s ready to unravel over you and the knowledge of what you’re doing to him only heightens what you feel. 

“Love you, Min” you whisper back at him, properly returning his affection for the first time tonight. You say it like you mean it. Your insecurities wilting away to leave nothing but pure admiration for the man who loves you. 

It hits Mingyu hard, the pressure inside of him reaching its peak. He clenches his teeth, nails scraping along the swollen flesh of your ass. He’s holding back so hard that it hurts, refusing to let himself reach his high before you do. 

Reaching behind you, you gently stroke the back of his hand, “Come for me, mmph, wanna feel you.” 

Your voice rings in his ears, making him lose any shred of sanity he had left. Hot ropes of cum spurt from the head of his cock, hitting you right where it needs to and you’re falling apart right along with him. Mingyu doesn’t let up on you, the juices spilling from your walls only making him want you more. No matter how messy—how sticky, how wet—he wants every bit of you until there’s nothing left. 

“Fuck, I think I’m dying” he gasps, his heart pounding as he peels himself away from you. He’s only halfway through fixing his pants when his balance gives out and he slumps to the floor. 

You turn around to find him sitting there, your own limbs barely keeping you up. “You’re not dying. You’re just dehydrated. Want some water?”

Lugging yourself over to him, you collapse onto his lap and he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms. You rest your head on his shoulder and he takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“No thank you. I already have what I want” he smiles, kissing your inner wrist. 

You want to scold him—tell him that no, actually he does need some water—but you let it go. Choosing instead to enjoy the warmth of being in his arms as his kisses make their way from your wrist to your fingertips. Mingyu worships you, honestly and truly, and it’s about time you just let him. 

[areislol]

being transported into their world 2

►— pairings. honkai star rail men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. nothing really, proofread 🙅🏻‍♀️, caelus is the trailblazer, romantic but you can see it was platonic if you want to! boothill lore, slight angst sahau (self aware honkai au)

►— synopsis. their beloved creator, the one who created many worlds, including theirs, had yet to return after thousands of years. but lately, they've been experiencing strange things, feeling like a heavenly, divine figure loomed over them. could it possibly be their one and only creator?

►— a/n. so many ideas but so little time to write it all down!!

►— wordcount. 6.2k

The last thing you remember is the image of Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, and Bronya standing before you, the smokey, dark and ominous fog surrounding you.

Next thing you know, you're waking up in the middle of an unfamiliar weight of silk sheets pressing against your skin. Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus on the ornate ceiling above, its intricate patterns swirling in the soft morning light.

This wasn’t your room.

Confusion gripped you as you sat up quickly, only to be greeted by a pounding headache. Wincing, you pressed your hand against your forehead, trying to make sense of the disjointed memories in your mind.

The room around you was lavish, decorated with rich tapestries and elegant furniture. Everything seemed meticulously placed as if the room belonged to royalty.

The air smelled faintly of lavender and something else you couldn’t quite place. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

Just how did you end up here?

Closing your eyes, you tried to recall the events that led to this moment. It all came back in fragments, like pieces of a shattered mirror.

You were standing up, shrouded in a dark, smokey fog. The air had been thick and oppressive, making it hard to breathe. Before you, Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, and Bronya stood with expressions of worry and determination. Their faces flashed in your mind, each one etched with concern.

Were you in a dream?

The fog, the faces—it all seemed so surreal. You opened your eyes again, scanning the room for any clues. The furniture was heavy and ornate.

A grand mirror stood in one corner, reflecting the dishevelled state of your appearance. Your clothes were the same as before but seemed out of place in this opulent setting.

Pushing the covers aside, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cool marble floor beneath your feet. The pounding in your head persisted, but you forced yourself to stand, determined to get out of this unknown place.

Each step felt like a struggle, your body weighed down by an invisible force. You approached the window, drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal a breathtaking view of a cityscape blanketed in snow.

Tall, imposing buildings of grand architecture stretched out before you, their intricate designs dusted with white. The streets below were covered in a moderate layer of snow, and the occasional figure bundled in winter attire moved through the frosty landscape.

Your mind raced with possibilities. Had you been transported here by some unknown force? Was this just a particularly long dream? Shaking your head you cleared your mind, yes... it was a dream, it had to be a dream.

Besides suddenly waking up from an unfamiliar room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched since the moment you awoke. Turning away from the window, you noticed a door on the far side of the room. It was slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of the hallway beyond.

Cautiously, you approached the door, your senses on high alert. Peeking through the crack, you saw a long corridor lined with more doors, each one identical to the next. The silence was eerie, broken only by the faint sound of your breathing.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open wider and stepped into the hallway. You wished that the floor was covered in carpet, it was extremely cold. You had no idea where you were going, but you couldn’t stay in that room any longer.

Turning a corner, you nearly bumped into a figure standing in the shadows. Startled, you took a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. The figure stepped forward, revealing a familiar face.

Grey hair, a pretty face, tall... the Astral Express golden ticket... wait...

“Caelus?” you whispered, barely daring to believe it.

Caelus’s eyes widened as he registered your voice. His surprise quickly turned into awe, and he stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance. Without a moment's hesitation, he dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold, hard floor.

"Your Gracefulness," he murmured, his voice trembling with reverence. "I am honoured to be in your presence."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his reaction. It wasn’t the response you expected. To them, you were not just a friend or a fellow traveller; you were the creator, the one who shaped their very existence. The weight of his words made you feel uneasy.

"Uh, please, get up," you urged, feeling a mix of discomfort and compassion. "You don’t have to kneel."

He hesitated for a moment before slowly rising to his feet, his eyes still filled with awe, oh his dear creator, what a kind soul they are! "Forgive me, Your Gracefulness. It’s just... we’ve been searching for you, and to find you here..."

Caelus was sure that he would get a scolding for talking to his Holy Grace for too long, he was sure of it. But he just couldn't stop the words pouring out of his mouth, all the years of yearning to meet you... and now you were here, right in front of him, before his eyes.

You offered a small nervous, reassuring smile despite the uncertainty gnawing at you. "I—I see." You bit your bottom lip, completely uncertain of what to do now as you stand there awkwardly with a curious Caelus.

"What... happened? I don't recall being here from the start," You asked, taking a moment to observe the ornaments around you. Caelus straightens his back, clearing his throat before speaking.

"You fainted a few minutes after coming out of the meteoroid. Thankfully Dan Heng caught you just in time, and then Bronya decided to keep you here, we were unsure when you would wake up."

"How long was I unconscious for?"

"Four days, your Grace."

"FOUR DAYS?!" The word came out in a disbelieving whisper, your mind reeling.

"Yes, your Grace." He nodded, a bit taken aback by your raised voice. You stood there, trying to process the information, feeling awkward and out of place.

Caelus's expression softened slightly before giving you a nod. "I'll take you to them." He guided you down the hall to another room, while you both walked you looked around once again, everything was different, not just your surroundings but the atmosphere was heavy.

You took in a deep breath, trying your best to calm yourself down. You knew that you were safe (although this place was still new to you), you knew these people, what they were like, everything.

They were famous video game characters. The very video game characters that you spend weeks on trying to find the right and perfect relic for them.

Honkai Star Rail drained your pockets, the lore and story were addictive, the play-style was addictive, and the pulling animation was addictive. Unsurprisingly, after a week of downloading the game, you were hooked.

It was a surprise that you weren't in debt... You shook your head, clearing your clouded mind. It was tough to digest the fact that you were walking right beside the Caelus!!

It was a silent walk with only the sounds of his shoes squeaking every there and then, it was clear how polished the floors were.

Caelus dared not to speak up in your holy presence. Was he even worthy of speaking to you let alone bask in your presence?

As you continued down the hallway, Caelus remained close by, his protective instincts heightened by your presence. The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, each one identical to the last.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, and the oppressive silence only added to your unease.

Calm down, you thought. No one's going to jump you..

Not long after Caelus stopped in his tracks, moving to the side as his hand rested on the door handle. The door was huge and elaborate, probably three times your size, and you finally heard faint voices.

Caelus signalled for you to stay back as he approached the source of the sound. Moments later, he beckoned you forward. You hurried to his side, peering into a large room filled with familiar faces.

As you entered, Dan Heng, Bronya, and Gepard looked up from their conversation. Relief, admiration and shock washed over their faces when they saw you.

"Your Gracefulness," Dan Heng said, bowing his head slightly. "I—It's a pleasure to meet you."

Everyone in the room had stood up from the seats, immediately bowing down with one knee, their eyes set downcast, refusing to even look at you. They remained solemn and reverent, their gestures filled with respect and devotion—an act that left you utterly speechless.

The room was silent, barely even a breath could be heard. You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, a deep discomfort settling into your bones.

This wasn’t something you were used to.

Back home, you were just another person, another face in the crowd. But here… here you were something else entirely apparently.

The realization struck you again, hard and jarring: you’d been "isekai’d" into the world of Honkai: Star Rail, a place where the characters you once guided and watched from behind a screen now saw you as their Creator, their Gracefulness.

But that didn’t make this any less strange.

"Please," you said, your voice shaky, betraying the unease you felt. "You don't need to do that. I'm just… I mean, I’m not—" You trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

How do you tell them that you didn’t see yourself as anything more than a normal person? That this whole situation felt surreal, like a dream you hadn’t quite woken up from yet?

Dan Heng, still kneeling, glanced up at you, his eyes calm and steady. "Your Gracefulness," he began, his tone soft but firm, "It is only right that we show you the respect you deserve. You are our creator, the one who has guided us through countless battles and decisions."

Bronya nodded, her gaze filled with a mixture of awe and dedication. "Without you, we wouldn’t be who we are today. This is the least we can do to honour your presence."

Gepard remained silent but his expression was resolute, as if nothing you said could change his mind about bowing before you. Caelus, however, looked a bit hesitant, perhaps sensing your discomfort more than the others. Yet, even he remained in place, waiting for your acknowledgment.

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. It was overwhelming, this level of devotion and reverence. It wasn’t something you ever imagined experiencing, and certainly not something you knew how to handle.

You’d come here, to this world, not out of a desire to rule or be worshipped, but by some strange twist of fate. The weight of their expectations, their respect—it felt heavy, almost suffocating.

"I appreciate… everything you’re saying," you began slowly, trying to find the right balance between acknowledging their feelings and setting boundaries. "But really, you don’t have to bow to me. I’m still… me. Just a person. I’m not used to this, and it makes me feel… awkward."

The room fell into a brief silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. You could see the conflict in their eyes—caught between their ingrained sense of duty and their desire to respect your wishes.

Finally, Caelus was the first to move, rising to his feet with a small, understanding smile. "If it makes you uncomfortable," he said, "then we’ll try to find another way to show our respect. But know that our loyalty for you remains unchanged."

One by one, the others followed suit, standing slowly. Gepard gave you a respectful nod, while Bronya offered a gentle smile, her previous intensity softening. Dan Heng lingered the longest, his gaze searching your face as if trying to understand you better, before finally standing as well.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, a small wave of relief washing over you. This was all so new, so overwhelming, but at least now, with them standing, you felt like you could breathe a little easier.

Even if you were their creator, you didn’t want to be put on a pedestal. You just wanted to go home.

"Thank you," you said quietly, your voice sincere. "I really appreciate it."

And with that, the tension in the room eased, the atmosphere shifting back to something more comfortable, more manageable. You were still trying to wrap your head around everything, but at least now, you didn’t feel so alone in it.

"We were worried about you." Bronya stepped forward, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need a doctor? I can get them right away—"

You shook your head, trying to maintain your composure despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. "I'm alright," you said, but even as the words left your lips, you could feel the weight of them.

Your head was pounding, a relentless reminder of everything you had just been through. The disorientation, the headaches—symptoms of something far greater than mere confusion.

You were trying to grasp the reality that had been thrust upon you, the fact that you were no longer in your world, that you had died, and now… now you were here.

Dan Heng’s eyes softened as he watched you, his usually calm demeanour laced with a subtle concern. "It’s understandable that you’re disoriented," he said, his voice steady but filled with empathy.

"You’ve been through something unimaginable. Arriving here so suddenly… it’s not something anyone could easily adjust to."

You looked down, your mind flashing back to that moment—the car crash. The impact, the pain, the sudden darkness. You remembered the sensation of being pulled away, as if your very soul had been yanked from your body, only to be confined within something cold and unforgiving.

The next thing you knew, you were hurtling through the sky, encased in what felt like a stuffy coffin, and then… Belobog.

You winced, the memory of it all almost too much to bear. "What… what did you see when I arrived?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with the fear of hearing the answer.

Gepard, who had been standing a little behind the others, stepped forward, his expression sombre. "When you appeared… you were in some sort of meteorite. It was like nothing we’d ever seen before. It came crashing down from the sky, landing just outside the city walls of Belobog."

"There was news that this month, the creator would return. Everyone was on high alert and once one of my guards spotted a mysterious crater, everyone knew that it had to be you."

Caelus nodded, his tone still filled with concern. "It was like a shooting star, only… darker. And when we approached, we saw you inside, unconscious. We had no idea what to do, but we knew we had to get you out of there, to help you."

Bronya’s gaze softened as she watched you struggle to process their words. "You were in a state of complete stasis, almost as if you were… suspended between worlds. We’ve never encountered anything like it."

The room seemed to close in around you as you tried to reconcile what they were telling you with what you knew—or thought you knew. You had died. You felt it. And yet, here you were, standing in a world you had only ever seen on a screen, surrounded by people who weren’t supposed to exist.

A headache pulsed at your temples, and you pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady yourself. The world felt like it was spinning, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

Caelus immediately stood by your side, his hands hesitating to hold you before shaking his head ever so slightly, holding your arm and waist to keep you from falling.

"I… I don’t understand," you murmured, more to yourself than to them. "I died. I remember the crash. I remember everything going dark, how on Earth did I..."

Dan Heng took a step closer, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. "It must have been a traumatic experience," he said softly, his voice gentle as if he were trying not to overwhelm you further.

"But you’re here now. Whatever happened, whatever brought you here, I think it was fate, just like how the legends had stated."

You wanted to believe him, wanted to find comfort in his words, but the reality of it all was still too much.

How could you be here, alive, in a place that shouldn’t even exist? And what did it mean that they were treating you like this—as if you were someone of immense importance, someone with power, someone they called their "Gracefulness"?

"I’m sorry," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I just… I need a moment to process all of this."

Bronya stepped forward, her expression filled with understanding. "Take all the time you need. We’re here for you."

Gepard nodded in agreement, his voice steady and reassuring. "We’ll be by your side, your wish is our command."

You stood there, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, everything that was happening now. The room felt both too large and too small at the same time as if the walls were closing in on you while the ceiling stretched out into infinity.

——

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity as you found yourself surrounded by a level of attention and care that was both overwhelming and humbling. Bronya, ever the efficient leader, took charge of organizing a grand celebration in honour of your return.

It was to be the most elaborate, grand and magnificent, parade ever. Only the best for their beloved creator.

The news of your arrival spread quickly, with messages sent across Belobog and even beyond, reaching the farthest corners of the world. Shops began to close in your honour, and preparations were set in motion to ensure that everything was perfect for the festivities that would last for months.

Caelus returned back to the Astral Express to spread the news to his friends who soon sent the message worldwide, especially to their alliances.

As the day wore on, you were never alone. Dan Heng and Gepard remained by your side, they would be your guards, though you couldn’t shake the feeling of being slightly out of place.

They escorted you through the grand halls of the Supreme Guardian’s residence, offering you a glimpse into the grandeur and history of Belobog.

The building itself was massive, with high ceilings, intricate carvings, and large windows that let in streams of light, casting everything in a golden glow.

Despite the opulence around you, your mind was still trying to adjust to the reality that had been put upon you. The remnants of your previous life, the memory of your death, the inexplicable warp that had brought you here—it all lingered in the back of your thoughts, creating an undercurrent of unease that you couldn’t quite shake.

But for now, you have to focus on the present. Gepard and Dan Heng took their roles seriously, ensuring that you were comfortable, well-fed, and taken care of in every possible way. When it was time to eat, you were treated to a feast of the finest foods Belobog had to offer, dishes prepared with such care and precision that you could taste the love in every bite.

They made sure you didn’t lift a finger, encouraging you to rest when you looked tired, and when the day began to take its toll on you, they arranged for a bath to be drawn in one of the grand, marble-floored bathrooms.

The bath was a welcome respite. The water was warm, and scented with calming herbs, and as you sank into it, you could feel the tension slowly melting away.

Maids attended to you, offering you soft towels and luxurious oils, treating you with a level of care that you had never experienced before. It was almost too much—this pampering, this constant attention—but you reminded yourself that this was how they showed their respect, their gratitude for your presence in their world.

After the bath, you were led to the room that had been prepared for you, its large windows offering a view of the snow-covered city below.

The bed was soft, the sheets made of the finest silk, and as you lay down, you couldn’t help but marvel at the turn your life had taken.

Just days ago, you had been living an ordinary life, unaware of what was to come, and now… now you were here, in a world that wasn’t supposed to exist, treated as a deity by those you had only known as characters.

Sure, today would have been amazing if it weren't for the fact of constant unease nagging you in the back, it was nice to be pampered and shown love, but at the same time, you wanted to go home, back to the place that you grew up in.

As you drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the luxury and comfort that had been arranged for you, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last.

How long you would be able to maintain this facade, to accept the adoration and devotion of those around you when deep down, you still felt like the same person you had always been—just a regular human, trying to make sense of a world that didn’t make sense at all.

But for now, you had no choice but to go along with it, to embrace the role that had been thrust upon you, even if it felt like you were living in a dream.

A dream that, for better or worse, you couldn’t wake up from.

——

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of soft knocking on your door. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a pale light across the snow-covered city of Belobog.

You could see your breath in the cool air as you stretched, still disoriented from the events of the previous day. For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a strange, vivid dream—but the grand room around you, the luxurious sheets beneath your fingers, and the echo of voices beyond the door reminded you that this was indeed your reality now.

You called for whoever was outside to enter, and the door opened to reveal Dan Heng and Gepard, both standing tall and composed. Their expressions softened when they saw you, and you noticed the subtle way their shoulders relaxed, as if simply seeing you reassured them.

"Good morning," Dan Heng said quietly, his tone respectful yet warm. "I hope you slept well."

You nodded, managing a small smile. "I did, thank you."

Gepard stepped forward, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of concern and deference. "If there's anything you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. We've arranged for breakfast to be brought to you, and after that, if you're feeling up to it, Bronya would like to discuss the plans for the upcoming celebrations with you."

Celebrations. The word lingered in your mind, bringing with it a mix of emotions. You still weren’t sure how to feel about all of this—the way everyone seemed to look at you as if you were something divine.

It was overwhelming, and part of you wanted nothing more than to retreat, to find a quiet corner where you could process everything on your own. But you knew that wasn’t an option. You had a role to play, and even if you didn’t fully understand it, you were determined to do your best.

"I… appreciate that," you replied, your voice softer than you intended. "I’ll be ready soon."

As the two men left to give you privacy, you dressed in the clothes that had been laid out for you—a simple yet elegant outfit that, while comfortable, still bore the intricate designs and rich fabrics that seemed to be a hallmark of Belobog's fashion.

You took a moment to steady yourself, taking deep breaths as you reminded yourself that you were in control, even if it didn’t always feel like it.

When you were ready, Dan Heng and Gepard led you to a grand dining room where a lavish breakfast had been prepared. The table was set with an array of dishes—freshly baked bread, fruits, pastries, and steaming bowls of porridge.

The sight of it all made your stomach twist, not from hunger but from the sheer extravagance of it. You took a seat, and though the food was delicious, each bite felt heavy for some odd reason.

As you ate, Bronya arrived, her usual stoic demeanour softened by a hint of nervousness. She greeted you with a respectful nod before taking a seat across from you. You noticed the way her eyes flickered to Dan Heng and Gepard, almost as if she were seeking their reassurance before she spoke.

"I’m glad to see you’re well," she began, her voice calm but measured. "The people of Belobog are eager to welcome you and show their gratitude for your return. We’ve begun preparations for a series of celebrations in your honour, and I wanted to discuss the details with you, to ensure everything meets your approval."

The idea of the entire city celebrating you—parades, feasts, and gatherings in your name—felt surreal. You weren’t sure how to respond, unsure if you could live up to the expectations they had of you.

"I don’t want to disrupt anyone’s life," you said cautiously, trying to find the right words. "It’s all very overwhelming. I’m not used to being treated like this."

Bronya’s expression softened, and she exchanged a glance with Dan Heng and Gepard, who stood behind you like silent sentinels. "Your presence alone is a gift to us," she replied gently. "We don’t see it as a disruption, but rather as an honour. The people are eager to show their gratitude and to celebrate this momentous occasion."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of unease and responsibility settle in your chest. "Alright. I’ll do my best to be what you need me to be."

Bronya smiled a rare and genuine expression that made you feel a little less out of place. "Thank you," she said simply. "We’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry."

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of preparations and introductions. Bronya led you through the city, introducing you to key figures and showing you the various places where the celebrations would take place.

Everywhere you went, people bowed deeply, their eyes wide with star-struck in awe. It was both humbling and unnerving, and you found yourself struggling to find the balance between accepting their respect and trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

Dan Heng and Gepard never left your side, their presence a constant reminder that you weren’t alone in this strange new world. They were vigilant, ensuring that you were comfortable, that no one overwhelmed you, and that you had moments of rest whenever you needed them.

By the time evening fell, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. You had been paraded through the city, introduced to so many people, and shown the elaborate plans for the days and weeks to come.

All of it felt like a dream, and as you finally returned to your room, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all pressing down on you.

While you lay in bed, twiddling with the fine silk blanket, the other regions were preparing to finally gaze upon their divine creator.

——

In the Xianzhou Luofu, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation as the news of the Creator’s return spread. Within the grand halls of the Divine Foresight, Fu Xuan stood before the Council of Elders, delivering the monumental announcement that had just arrived from the Trailblazer.

"The Creator has returned," Fu Xuan declared with a calm but resolute voice. "They have descended in Belobog, and it is our duty to honour them with the highest respect and homage."

The Council of Elders, seasoned in both wisdom and combat, exchanged glances of disbelief and awe. The Creator, the one who had shaped their world and guided their destinies, was now walking among them once more. The gravity of this revelation weighed heavily on their minds, knowing that their response to this event would define their legacy.

Jing Yuan, the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu, stood quietly at the back of the chamber, his usual calm demeanour betraying a hint of solemnity. The Creator’s return was a momentous occasion, and Jing Yuan felt the significance of this event.

"We must ensure that our tribute is worthy of their grace," he murmured, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

Nearby, Loucha listened intently. His thoughts were more introspective, contemplating the deeper implications of the Creator’s return. Loucha, ever the observer, recognized the immense pressure that this event placed upon them all.

But unlike the others, his focus was not on the material offerings but on the spiritual and existential implications of meeting their Creator. He quietly resolved to find a way to honour the Creator not just through gifts but through his actions and service.

A casket would simply not do, although he was sure that you'd grow fond of it.

Hm, what else could he possibly give you...

Blade, as usual, remained silent throughout the meeting with the Stellaron Hunters. His mind, however, was not at ease. Blade’s relationship with the concept of the Creator is complex and filled with conflicting emotions.

Blade knew he had to play his part in honouring the Creator, even if it meant confronting the very things he had spent so long trying to suppress.

Preparations across the Xianzhou Luofu began immediately. Gifts were gathered from the most skilled artisans—finely crafted weapons, ancient scrolls, and traditional garments.

The best chefs prepared exquisite dishes that would showcase the rich culture of the Xianzhou. In every corner of the realm, citizens participated in rituals, prayers, and meditations, focusing their energies on the Creator.

Jing Yuan oversaw the strategic aspects of the journey, ensuring that their voyage to Belobog would be flawless. Loucha offered his medical expertise to make sure that everyone on board the vessels was in perfect health, while Blade had already begun making his way to Belobog along with Firefly and Kafka.

As the time for departure approached, the air was thick with reverence and anticipation. The Xianzhou Luofu were not just travelling to meet their Creator; they were about to present themselves as a testament to the Creator’s guidance.

Their journey to Belobog would be marked by the same dedication and honour that had defined their civilization for centuries.

Far away in Penacony, the city of innovation and creativity, the news of the Creator’s return was met with an explosion of activity. Penacony, renowned for its technological marvels and artistic achievements, reacted to the news with excitement.

Aventurine was among the first to receive the message. As soon as he got the text, he froze, eyes furiously scanning the text over and over again.

Was this real? Has the creator really come back? The one who he worshipped so obsessively?

He immediately rang Jade, his voice frantic as he spoke to her over the phone. "We cannot afford to delay," Aventurine stated.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and we must honour the Creator with everything Penacony has to offer."

Sunday, the head of the family, took charge of organizing the preparations. He ordered all renowned artists, engineers, and musicians all come together to create a tribute that would embody the spirit of their city.

Everything had to be perfect.

Sunday was enthusiastic for the Creator's return, it was not just a reflection of his usual cheerfulness—it was something far deeper, almost lovesick.

The moment he received word that the Creator had returned to their world, something in him ignited. It was as if all his life had been leading up to this moment, and now, he could finally fulfil his purpose.

“The Creator has returned,” he whispered to himself after first hearing the news, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and anticipation. His eyes, usually bright with optimism, now gleamed with a fervour that bordered on the intense.

To Sunday, this wasn’t just an event to celebrate—it was a divine calling, a chance to prove his unwavering devotion.

From that moment on, Sunday threw himself into the preparations with a single-mindedness that was almost unsettling. He didn’t just organize the celebrations—he orchestrated them with an obsession that left little room for error.

Every detail had to be perfect, and every gesture had to reflect the utmost reverence for the Creator. He wasn’t just leading the preparations; he was living them, breathing them, as though his very existence depended on it.

When rallying the artists and performers, Sunday’s usual encouragement took on a more insistent edge. “This isn’t just for any celebration,” he’d remind them, his eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s for the Creator. We must give them everything—our best and beyond.”

He’d hover over rehearsals, his smile still present but his tone sharper, more demanding. Mistakes weren’t just errors; they were almost blasphemous in his eyes.

In the kitchens, his involvement was even more intense. He tasted every dish, scrutinizing each one with a level of scrutiny that made even the most seasoned chefs nervous. “This dish needs something... more,” he’d say, his brows furrowing in concentration.

“It needs to be worthy of the Creator. Start again.” And they would, because Sunday’s passion was as contagious as it was overwhelming. Many chefs and assistants often gossiped with one another about Sunday's behaviour, he was far too obsessed.

They, of course, understood the importance of perfecting everything as well, it would be served under the gaze of their Almighty Creator, but Sunday was too overbearing, pushy and stubborn.

Everything has to be perfect.

His interactions with the other citizens of Penacony took on a different tone as well. While still encouraging, there was an underlying pressure in his words. “The Creator deserves only the best from us. Do you understand? This is our moment to show our love, and our loyalty. We can’t afford to disappoint them.”

As the days passed, Sunday’s obsession grew. He spent nights alone, surrounded by plans and lists, going over every detail until his eyes were red and his hands shook from exhaustion.

But he didn’t care. Sleep was secondary; his devotion to the Creator was all that mattered.

Boothill, unlike the others found himself in an unfamiliar situation. Normally at ease with a revolver in hand, Boothill was now tasked with selecting gifts that would impress the Creator.

He knew the importance of your arrival, but there was something that lingered at the back of his head. The memories would override his brain, successfully clouding his thoughts, all he could think about was revenge.

His home.

His daughter.

His family.

His beloved memories.

Gone. They were all gone, all because of one man: Oswaldo Schneider.

Perhaps... If he impressed you with his devotion and adoration, would you help get revenge for him? As the Creator, wouldn't you be so kind as to lend your devoted worshipper some help?

(He decided to contribute something personal—a custom-made weapon, intricately designed and crafted with precision.)

Once the word spread to Gallagher that you were finally home, Gallagher’s response was deeply rooted in a sense of duty and respect.

Like Sunday, he wanted everything to be perfect, not because of an obsessive need to impress, but because he believed it was the right thing to do.

In meetings, Gallagher was a voice of calm amidst the excitement, offering practical solutions to any challenges that arose. “Let’s focus on what’s important,” he would say, steering conversations away from extravagance and towards meaningful gestures.

He believed that the Creator would value sincerity and thoughtfulness over grand displays, and he ensured that Penacony’s contributions reflected that belief.

In his heart, Gallagher held a deep respect for you. His admiration was sincere, but it wasn’t showy. He didn’t need to prove his devotion through grand gestures or dramatic displays; his actions spoke for themselves.

He believed that true reverence was shown through quiet, consistent effort—through doing what was right, even when no one was watching.

He could just taste your happiness at the tip of his tongue, it was delicious. He began to think about your responses, what would you say? Would you accept his gift happily? Toss it away in digust?

“We’ve prepared these offerings with great care and respect, Your Grace. We hope they meet your expectations.” He would say.

"Oh, Gallagher! You shouldn't have!" You would reply.

Or...

"How bold of you to assume that I would accept such a gift from a low-life dog like you!"

Even a small smile would do.

No matter your response, he would still devote his entire being to you.

He had always been confident in his abilities, but now, faced with the Creator themselves, he wondered if his efforts would be enough. It wasn’t a question of worthiness, but of connection—he wanted the Creator to understand that Penacony’s gifts came from a place of genuine respect and loyalty.

Yet, even in this moment of uncertainty, Gallagher remained composed. He knew that whatever the Creator’s response, he had done his best.

And that, for Gallagher, was what truly mattered. He would continue to serve and protect, quietly dedicated to the Creator’s well-being, just as he had always done.

——

As the day of departure approached, Penacony and the Xianzhou Luofu were abuzz with activity. Airships were loaded with gifts, including traditional dishes, intricately designed artifacts, and artistic performances that would honour the Creator.

The entire city was involved in the preparations, each citizen contributing in their own way.

When the airships finally took flight, they carried not just the hopes of Penacony but also the dreams and creativity of its people.

This journey was more than just a trip; it was a pilgrimage to honour the Creator who had shaped their being.

note: so many wips..

tags 🏷️: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @saltylovetale-blog @toramune @oreo-ren @backintomykpopphaseagain @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @yurassia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealmap @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanist @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-ish @merormerry @gojoulen03 @scarletttcrow @hadischara @kithewanderingme @keiqqo @livelaughlovekuni @chirikoheina @wr1t3rfum1k0 @issacdaholi @yu-ulda @alysinbshsu @vanilla-sweets @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @seipaws @clavichordcleffa @uhhhiwassupp @youdontneedyoknowlol @the-lazy-perfectionist @issacdarknight @lucienbarkbark @bizzybkd @obliviousariies2007 @coffee-seedy

(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)

for those i’ve taged: if you do not want to tagged for hsr drop a comment or message me.

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[astralis-ortus]

form of affection

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— everything feels... new.

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff warning → chan and reader both referred to as baby, one use of 'my girl', reader on period :(, minor cussing here and there, not proofread!ㅠ a.n → honestly i don't know what to write atm (aside from the continuation for that one seungmin fic) but i still want to write something lighthearted so... this happens. welp. :] ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

you messed up.

"fuck," you finally muttered under your breath, hand clutching your forehead in frustration. you know you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling earlier this morning and followed through with the precautions anyway.

again you turned against the mirror, still bearing some hope that whatever you saw earlier was just your eyes playing tricks on you, but no—the damned red spot on your white dress is still there, mocking you through reflection of your boyfriend's bathroom mirror.

"baby?"

you jumped at the sudden knock on the bathroom door, feeling like your heart has suddenly fallen to your feet. fuck—how are you supposed to tell him?

"are you okay? do you need me to come in?"

"no!" you hurriedly replied, only later cursing at yourself for not maintaining your composure. making chris worried was definitely your intention after going missing to his bathroom for quite a period of time, and your reply definitely wasn't helping your resolute.

"are you sure?" chris' voice were laced with concern, and you could even picture the frown that's definitely present on his forehead. "can you crack the door open? just so i'm sure you're really okay."

"it's just—"

"baby," again, the image of your boyfriend's stern gaze immediately popped up in your mind. "please? just one sec. i need to make sure that you're alright."

it's not that you're worried chris would say anything about it—you're well aware of the kind of person your boyfriend of 4 months is, and you completely trust him. it's just that…

you're embarrassed.

the click of lock were soon followed by a soft creak, revealing chris' concerned eyes beyond the slight opening of the door. his relief was audible even to you, gaze softening when he saw the glimpse of your flushed face.

"okay," chris' lips formed a soft smile, as if trying to soothe you, "are you sure all is good? do you need any help?"

"…today."

"hm?" blinking in confusion, chris brought his face closer to you, "sorry, baby, i couldn't—"

"i got my period today," you quickly repeated, cheeks heating up as you heard your own confession, "and i didn't bring any feminine products with me since i wasn't supposed to have it for another week. i also might've stained your couch. i'm sorry."

chris turned quiet, and you could practically see thoughts flashing through his eyes—but you're not a mind reader, and the passing seconds made your heart grew heavy. is he embarrassed to hear that? is he going to send you home? is he going to get upset? should you have not—

"if i'm not mistaken… i think there should be some pads and maybe some disposable underwear under the sink, baby," the sound of chris' voice promptly ceased the vortex of worry growing in your head, your eyes again meeting chris' clear ones, "i bought it a while back for you but i don't remember if i placed it here or in my room. could you check?"

despite the confusion, your body had instinctively moved along chris' request. to your surprise, you do find the items your boyfriend had mentioned, tucked neatly in a small box of necessities. you chest bubbled up in gratitude and filled with warmth—you never expected chris to do this for you, and yet, he managed to come over and beyond any of your expectations.

"found it?"

nodding your head, you swallowed back the tears welling up in your eyes. gosh—period hormones! "yeah, just found them. thank you, baby."

a sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the door, and you couldn't help but smile—if it wasn't clear before, then now you're determined to find a way to repay chris somehow. frankly, at times you still don't understand the lengths chris would willingly go for you, or if you even deserve to be at the receiving end of chris' gesture of affection at all. the chris you've gotten to know is so full of love, and you don't even know if you have the capacity to love him the way he cares about you.

but in the mean time,

you've decided to try and accept chris' form of affection for you.

"okay," you could hear the smile in chris' voice as he speaks, "i'll go grab a change of clothes for you while you settle down, yeah? oh, and you do know where the towel if you want to shower, right?"

"yeah, i know," you held back a giggle as you reappeared in chris' vision between the crack of the door, clutching the box close to your chest with a beaming smile, "thank you, baby. really. i really appreciate this."

and with a smile equaling to the warmth of a spring's sun, chris chuckled a reply,

"anything for my girl."

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[tigerpearlsworld]

Pick a card

What kind of power, influence, and lasting impact do you have on someone when you're in a relationship with them?

Before you choose a pile, take a moment to breathe deeply and connect with your intuition. This is a general pick-a-card reading, where the universe's infinite energies align with your path to bring you the guidance you need.

Know that you can only choose one pile. The message you receive is not just for you to resonate with, but for you to realize in time as the truth unfolds in your journey. To truly receive your message, you must follow your heart’s instinct, not your expectations. Look beyond the surface and see what your soul is trying to reveal to you.

How to Choose Your Card:

Breathe in deeply. Breathe out slowly.

Light a candle or incense, and clear your mind.

Meditate on the beating of your heart, allowing your thoughts to flow naturally.

Let go of doubts, and trust what your heart is guiding you towards.

Close your eyes, visualize a light forming in your heart, and feel its pull.

When you open your eyes, choose the image that your heart calls to the most.

For some of you maybe number, colour, or image will help.

A Final Message for You: Your heart is your guide, not your mind. Surrender to the wisdom that lies within you.

And for those who are seeking answers about love, fate, and destiny, I send my prayers to the stars to bless you with clarity, strength, and the energy to embrace your path.

May you receive what you are meant to know.

(Choose the pile:)

Pile 1: Hellhound

Pile 2: thunderbird

Pile 3: unicorn

Pile 4: Devil

The reading starts. . .

Pile 1:

Words which were coming for you as I start the reading:

(Intense, Destruction, Rebirth, Shadow, Depth,Passion, Truth, Raw,Fire, Darkness, Strength, Unforgettable,Haunting,Unshakable, Silent Storm, Reckoning,Depths of Love, Immovable Presence)

Vibes: You can't hide

Animal: panther

In the heart of your presence, there is a fire—one that does not simply burn for the sake of warmth, but for creation for something Deep for something more. You are not just a lover but....you are an initiator of change, a force that seeps into the marrow of the person you entwine your fate with. No wonder the panther came for you. There is something about you that does not just exist in their life—you carve yourself into the very fabric of their being, embedding your essence into their growth, their thoughts, their soul’s quiet corners where no one else has ever reached.

When you enter someone’s life, it is as if the water within them meets a great wave. They do not remain stagnant. You stir them, you awaken them. Your love has a purity that cleanses, but in its purity, it also carries the weight of depth. Though there is a softness in you, a nurturing spirit that gives without hesitation, yet within that giving, there is also a demand—a silent expectation that they rise to meet you in the same depth you offer. Not everyone can bear the weight of such love, for love with you is not simply about companionship; it is about transformation.

You walk with balance, with a knowing that love is not only passion but also patience.Yet in that balance there is also discipline your love does not coddle illusions. You push them to see themselves, to understand their own structure to stand firmly within their own power. You teach them responsibility both for themselves and for the connection they share with you.

With you anyone will face the echoes of their past, the unspoken truths they have long buried, and the unfinished stories they tried to escape from. Your love is a call to rise, to transform, to let go of what no longer serves them. Some may resist, some may struggle under the weight of the mirror you hold up to them, but none will leave unchanged.

I also feel you have a strong wall builded up around you like You do not give freely without expectation tbh....there is a quiet fear within you, a need to protect what is yours but also to hold tightly to what you cherish. And so, those who love you find themselves caught in this delicate balance between the openness of your giving and the quiet walls you build to shield your own heart. They will learn patience with you they will learn how to earn the trust that is not easily given and in that they will either find their own strength or crumble beneath the weight of what they cannot yet understand. You're passion is not for the faint of heart. As you're not for just anyone.

In matters of what power you hold in a relationship it's the fact that you have this unshakable presence....this unspoken but respected presence about yourself that lingers in their memories, in the lessons they carry, in the quiet moments where they realize that something within them has forever changed because of you. And that is something powerful and beautiful to have. And so.....when they think of you whether in the days of togetherness or in the years after your imprint remains. They will carry you in the way they love after you, in the standards they will never again lower in the strength they did not know they had until you showed them. You are not a passing presence but you are a catalyst a memory that breathes within them long after the last word is spoken.That is the power you hold. That is the influence you leave. That is the lasting impact of loving you.

Also as you have the animal panther it says that you do not love softly.....you love with depth, ferocity, and an unrelenting truth that strips away illusions. To be in a relationship with you is to face oneself raw, unfiltered, and exposed. There is no room for masks, no space for complacency. Your presence awakens something primal, something buried deep within the soul of the person you love. They may have spent their whole life hiding from parts of themselves, but with you, there is no escape.

In the end..... You are not a fleeting presence but you are the storm, the awakening, the quiet shadow that lingers in their soul long after they think they have forgotten. Loving you is not easy tbh. But it is unforgettable. And for those who survive the storm of your presence, they will emerge stronger, wiser, and forever changed.

A song which came for you

Pile 2:

Words which came for you as I start the reading:

(Unsettling, Haunting,Disruptive,Forbidden, Intoxicating, Reckoning, Depth, Chaos, Obsession,Fated, Undoing, Awakening, Introspection, Tragic Beauty)

Vibes: You belong to me

Animal: Moth

To love you is to step into a world of shadows where nothing hiddens for long. You do not simply touch someone’s life you pierce through it unraveling the quiet deceptions they tell themselves the illusions they have built and the truths they have long buried. There is a mystery to you a quiet depth that draws people in only for them to realize that being close to you means facing themselves in ways they never anticipated. But you're also a paradox that offers both chaos and clarity, both temptation and wisdom....like you are the whisper in the night that both soothes them but also the storm that both destroys.

Your love is not for the faint of hearts as because It demands balance but at times it tips the scales in ways that shake the foundation of the person you are with. You don't shy away from rocking the boat tbh I also see you may if need be flip the entire boat lol like......Some may resist, some may fight and some may struggle against the tide of your influence but they all in the end learn to surrender.

Though you yourself remain untamed independent not submitting to anything/anyone.....your independence both intrigues and unsettles the people who love you. You are not someone who loses yourself in a relationship but you make the other person lose themselve in the relationship while you remain whole, sovereign, untamed. You do not seek validation you embody it. You go at the beat of your drums.You don't ask for permission. But in your presence your partner finds themselves questioning their own stability....their own worth, their own significance like Do they have what it takes to stand beside you? Can they match your energy, your depth, your knowing? You do not tolerate mediocrity in love I see-you demand growth and ambition. Like you do not settle and you don't let the person who you're with settle either.

But there is also a battle war within you like you don't always find peace within yourself and this internal war may sometimes bleed into your relationships with its ugly head and claws. I also see there is a tendency for the lines between trust and doubt to blur for the weight of past wounds shape how you navigate intimacy. I also see you teaching your loved ones about discernment and illusion like how to be careful, how to be discerning, how to see through illusions-but in doing so you also teach them how it feels to be loved by someone who walks the line between trust and self-preservation.

As you have chosen the moth card it brings with itself the irresistible pull or tug. You cannot be ignore.... Although subtly but you influence the person in a consuming way... Making some even obsessed about the idea with you. But there again this thing comes the idea.... People fall for the idea of you for how they can mold you becoming molded in the process themselves as you remain burning and wild with your untamed energy. At first they may not even realize it tbh but you are the whisper in the dark, the thing they chase even when they don’t understand why. With you it's like a dream, a intoxication, a ultimate submission.... With you even if they got you close but for some reason you still feel far. Your love is like something they cannot hold but they never want to let go of either. Like I said before you're a paradox, a contrast.....You bring them both clarity and illusion, hope and recklessness. They learn through you the beauty of surrender of giving in to what they feel but they also learn the weight of chasing something they may never fully grasp.

In the end your love is a force that does not easily fade even if things fall apart even if the paths diverge....you are a wound and a revelation, a lesson and a longing. Things with you are always fated....they do not meet you by accident. You come into their world when something within the person must be shifted.....when something within them must be broken to be rebuilt, burned to be reborn. You are not just a chapter in their story but are the turning point, the plot twist, To be loved by you is to be rewritten.

A song which came for you

Pile 3:

Words which came for you as I start the reading:

(Phantom,Cosmic,Enigma, Awakening, Illusion,Sacred, Untamed, Ethereal,Mythical, Unseen, Unchained, Radiant, Elusive, Hidden, Oracle, Destiny,Everlasting,Eclipsed, Vanishing,Alchemy, witch craft)

Vibes : Known yet Unknown

Animal: Unicorn

To love you is to be at the crossroad, to hold air in cupped hands, to chase a shadow that moves just beyond reach, to follow a path that twists before it can be understood. You are Bipolar in a way....a contrast,an enigma a paradox with different extremes of your traits. You are not just a lover but a shifting force, something that refuses to be contained or fully known. Those who fall into your orbit quickly realize that you are not someone who can be claimed, not someone who surrenders easily to definitions, expectations, or permanence, hell even relationship. I don't know why I get this energy that you can friendzone a lot of people. Alot of people can be frustrated due to how complex and distant of a person you can be. There is just this frustration I feel from the people around you like..... You give them a hell of a ride lol that is for sure. Even deciphering your energy is so difficult because it's so layered and hidden and guarded. *sighhhh its gonna be a long read (ಥ_ಥ) with how difficult your energy is*

Coming back um....i feel there is this um...there is certain elusiveness to you. A feeling that you are here, but not quite here.....you feel me? Like um....Present, yet always slipping just beyond full grasp. Uhm.....those who love you often find themselves caught between longing and reality, between the idea of you and the truth of you. They may believe they have figured you out only to watch you change, evolve, take another form, leaving them to question if they ever truly knew you at all. Yet you're not heartless either tbh it's like.... There is depth in you a presence that makes people feel seen, understood, even adored.....but it is not always meant to be kept. Like you love freely, but carefully. You give but never in excess. You let people in just enough to make them feel something real, but not always enough to make them believe they can claim you as their own.

Also what I sense is that you as a person can be very restless, like a wind that cannot be bottled thats you....like a current that moves with its own rhythm, never settling for long. People who fall for you will feel this like.....like they will sense that you are someone who does not easily commit, who does not give love out of obligation, who cannot be tamed into something predictable. They may try to hold onto you, to anchor you, dictate you, try to make you submit but they will soon realize that you are not something to be captured-you are an experience, a moment, a storm that cannot be contained.

In the chaser and runner dynamic you are like a runner who runs away from relationship and people who wants to put you in a circle or in a type. Because I feel you don't want to be just seen in one light. You are infinite. You are more. You want so much for yourself. You have high expectations for yourself and you shine so bright that others try to catch you to feel that special feeling about themselves just for you to escape from their grasp.

Some people may call you cold but what I see is that you're not actually cold... You're just careful (which is fine which is good tbh) like.....You don't deny love, but you do not give it blindly either. Your impact is one of awakening, realization, and sometimes but most times of frustration. Those who love you may feel like they are in a constant state of reaching, always wanting more, always wondering if they are enough to make you stay. They may feel the weight of what they cannot control, the longing for something that refuses to be placed in a box. And that is your influence....you force people to question what love truly means like....is it about keeping, holding, caging, owning, securing? Or is it about presence, about understanding, about accepting that some connections are meant to be lived rather than owned?

I also see you challenging traditional love, disrupting the normal narratives people tell themselves about love and relationships. your love is not meant to be conventional like you are not here to fit into a mold, to follow a script, to settle into a space that does not fit you. You will make your own road and space for yourself.

As you got again even in the animal cards The unicorn it now becomes even special as it now whispers the messages of divine and things which are unseen can be seen... And things which are unheard could be heard. The unicorn card confirms what I was trying to convey no one can hold you, tame you or make you chain in one dimensional relation when you have rich wide view of the world and love. You don't belong to anyone.. There is a part of you that cannot be capture, cannot be owned, cannot be fully explained. Those who love you will try and try and try to define you, try to understand you, try to hold onto you but they will find that this love is something that moves like mist through fingers, something meant to be felt rather than possessed.

And in the end even when you are gone you remain. In the way they now question love as something eternal...in the way they now hesitate before assuming love must always mean control, in the way they search for a love that feels as alive, as electric, as fleetingly beautiful as you. You are the healer of the wounded, the solace of the lost, the unclaimed storm, the lover who cannot be held and the lesson they will never forget.

A song which was smacking me in the face before I even started the reading truly idk why maybe there is some message.... *Anyway this reading was something (╥﹏╥)*

Pile 4:

Words which were coming for you as I start the reading: (Unbound, Intense, Mystical, Unpredictable, Magnetic, Uncontrollable, Eclipsing, Wildfire, fetish, taboo)

Vibes: Power

Animal: Horse

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:Important:

Before I even begin to speak of your presence...i must first speak of the moment I reached out to touch your energy. It was unlike the others. Heavy. *sigh* i got a chill an almost intangible force pressing against my senses, as though the universe itself hesitated to part its lips and whisper your truth. The air was thick, the cold unrelenting, and even with the flickering of candlelight and the curling whispers of incense I felt the weight of something immense. I don't know what was that but it was so Cold and dark.Pure restlessness for some hate and for others even curses of some kind. Some of you may be going through the dark night of soul or shadow work or sadesati idk maybe even for some rahu/ketu dasha idk point is.... I don't know what that was. But I feel your energy is sensitive and I highly suggest you do something to protect it. As anything bad can penetrate it. You catch people's eye easily.... Jealousy and envy surrounds you. Ig that's all.

Anyway let's start the reading.

■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■

To love you is like two polar extremes people either adore you to the point of obsession or fear you to the point of exile. There is rarely an in-between. You hold this sort of forbidden allure, something taboo, dark, and uncontainable, something that draws people in like moths to a flame knowing they might burn but unable to resist. There is this um.... undeniable element of possession, consumption, and devouring. Lovers may feel like they are drowning in your presence, completely overtaken, either by lust, love, or raw emotional chaos.

Your presence is like the first flicker of dawn in a night that had long forgotten the taste of morning ((✿❛◡❛)*quiet poetic ik*)And yet.....you do not arrive softly. Hell tbh you bring a wildfire that dances between destruction and rebirth, a paradox of passion and transformation like you do not touch them.....you brand the people you're with.

with that I also want to address if you're a guy you can either be Or have the vibes of a ladykiller/ if you're a woman watching you can be Or have the vibes of a maneater just saying.... Point is. Yep. I made my point lol

Ahem.... I also see some of ya can have a lot of wild fetishes like idk breeding kink?choking? （￣△￣；）

Aaaaa yea so.... Also some of ya can have wild and crazy tattoos. Like there is something permanent about the effect you leave on the people you're with in the relationship....much like ink on skin-whether physical tattoos or metaphorical wounds.

I also feel some of you are obsessed with psychological thriller, crime, and shadows of the mind of what's hidden.... Yk and I see that you either study madness or unknowingly become the subject of it. People who enter your orbit may find themselves obsessed, fascinated, unable to look away even when they should. For some of y'all people who are in a relationship literally could want to commit with you like hell even if it's a married person they may want to do the nasty and get entangle with you. Just saying.

But I would also like to address that your presence is not easy. It is not the comfort of still waters but the roaring tides that pull one into depths unknown. You bring forth their inner conflicts, their untamed chaos, and force them to face the parts of themselves they have ignored. It is not always a gentle process tbh and its like fire meeting shadow, a collision that either forges something indestructible or crumbles what was never meant to stand.

Yet for all the intensity you are not without tenderness but you carry within you a deep well of emotion a river that runs silent yet deep. You're a sanctuary of safety and comfort for those who really open their hearts to you and show you their raw self. Your love is not merely felt but experienced in its entirety where one learns that to be vulnerable is not to be weak but to be seen in their most unguarded truth. But not all can handle the depth of you. Some will run. Some will resist. Some will try to cage you, thinking that if they can contain your wildness, they can keep you forever.... But you are not meant to shrink yourself to fit within the confines of another’s comfort. You are meant to burn and to leave your mark.

I see for when you leave...because at some point, you always do, whether by choice or by fate-you do not truly disappear. You remain as a reminder of what it means to truly be alive, to have been seen, touched, and moved in ways that words will never be enough to explain.

Your power is that you're unforgettable.

As you got in the animal card the horse it conveys how you arrive with your galloping hooves shaking the foundation of your partner’s world... Pushing them out of their four walls and comfort zone but also I see the paradox of you in relationship. Like you maybe fiercely loyal in your soul but your essence cannot be tethered because you belong to the wind, to the roads yet traveled, to the call of the unknown. A partner who tries to chain you, to hold you down, will only find themselves grappling with emptiness. You do not leave because you wish to; you leave because you must, because your nature demands constant movement, growth, and change. You cannot stand Stagnancy of any kind. Your energy won't allow it.

And in the end some will curse your name while others will worship your memory but none will ever forget you. You are the force that runs through their veins long after when you're gone. You give the kind of love that comes like a storm, destroys everything in its path, and then disappears......leaving people lost, addicted, and forever searching for another hit of what they once had.

Two songs came for you while doing your reading

[talonabraxas]

The Gateway to Higher Dimensions: The Woman Many seek ascension, enlightenment, and the keys to the higher realms—but few recognize the sacred portal through which it often comes: the Woman. She is not just flesh and bone—she is the divine vessel of creation, intuition, and spiritual power. To truly rise into higher dimensions of consciousness, one must honor, understand, and spiritually align with the feminine essence. A woman carries within her the energy of the universe. When respected, loved, and spiritually connected with, she can open gateways that no ritual or meditation alone can access. Her presence is healing, her womb a channel between worlds, and her heart a mirror of Divine Love. To walk the path of higher truth, learn to see beyond the physical. Recognize the sacredness of the feminine. It is not about worship—it’s about awareness, reverence, and union. Through her, you are born. Through her, you can be reborn—into higher light. Kelvin Nana Opare Ash Image: Star Portal in San Luis Potosí Mexico 1947

[bunny-jpeg]

show-off (price's version)

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, filth, dirty talk, filming, mirror sex, doggy style, age gap (20s/40s)

simon's version | johnny's version | kyle's version

what belonged to price, belonged to no one else. that was sort of the rule. but that didn't mean that price didn't share... images. while the rest of 141 couldn't touch what was his, they could touch themselves to photos and videos of price's "puppy".

the cute little failed cadet that price swept away to a charmed little life. he told the boys you did better as a girlfriend than a cadet.

"ain't she a beauty?" price beamed over drinks on evening, "prettiest fuckin' thing i'd ever seen. let's me do all kinds of dirty things to her. she's my baby girl." then laughed.

even in a photo the other members of the team were chubbed in their pants. you just had this charm to you that greatly turned them on, you beyond gorgeous.

it made them a little jealous, and price knew that.

simon, johnny and kyle all woke up on the second day of their time off, to a video file in the group chat. the file was dense in size. what they didn't expect was the following.

you were in front of the mirror with price holding his phone camera. in the reflection was your naked body knelt in front of the full length mirror. price was behind you, he was nude as well. his built. hairy body was such a contrast to you.

you looked so small compared to him. like he had plucked you from the heavens and bounced you on his cock. you held onto the carpet under you as you rolled your hips.

"that's it darlin'." he said, "that's my baby girl." his voice was low, but picked up by the microphone on the phone. there was a nice sheen of sweat of your body as you worked yourself on price's cock like a good girl.

"john, please." you whimpered as you tried to keep yourself up right. withering on his cock was he stayed perfectly still. he was letting you do all the work.

"look up at the mirror, love. show the boys what their missin'." price chuckled as he rubbed his cock inside of you. the stimulation made you moan. when he saw that you weren't looking, he used his free hand to yank on your face till you were looking right at the mirror, "bad girl." he said, "and i was just gloatin' about ya to the team. tellin' them how much of a good girl you were for me. listenin' and, waitin' with legs open."

you whimpered as you continued to jack hammer your hips against him. there was a fire burning in your belly as you fucked yourself on price's cock. you made him promise that this wasn't going to be sent to everyone on base. price told you it was just "for the boys".

which meant simon, johnny and kyle all had the luxury of seeing you fuck yourself on their captain's cock.

"see how she is, boys?" he asked the camera, his eyes on the screen to make sure that they could see the video in the clearest definition, "ya gotta get yourself a good girl. ya keep findin' them at clubs and bars. don't bother, find yourself one who's eager to please. make her a better wife than a solider." price laughed before he buried his face in your neck and gave you what you craved.

movement of his hips.

you were practically face first in the carpet as price started to fully take over. the camera panned away from the mirror down to the back of your head as he took control.

your noises were so sweet they bordered on pathetic. the sounds of your wet pussy filled the room and easily caught on video. price got right in there, watching your pussy take him too his root.

"see boys." he said, "just find yourself a good girl like that. maybe if you behave, she'll tell her friends all about the task force." he laughed, the idea of your sweet friends ending up with someone like simon was almost adorable.

you whimpered and he held your head into the carpet, your ass right in the air as he started to really work at your pussy. your ass bounced with each hard thrust.

"pretty little slut." price laughed as he fucked you into the carpet, "knows how to keep her man happy, and it ain't from good cookin'!" he erupted in laughter as he just ruined your cunt.

his pace became ragged, his thrusts more desperate than before. he sole focus was getting to finish inside of you. but you beat him to it, you clawed at the carpet and whined. your pussy clamped around price's thick cock. you orgasm spurred his on and he almost dropped his phone as he buried his entire length into you.

a few heavy pants and he slowed down. he managed to focus himself enough to film himself pulling out his bare cock out of your sweet pussy. watching the stretch as the entire thing came out.

he pointed the camera one last time and asked, "ready for another round?" followed by a airy laugh.

you responded by lifting your head and nodded. you looked painfully blissed out. but ready for more. and price was going to give you more.

the video ended and a few minutes later, price sent a message.

rise and shine, boys! the message said, early bird gets the worm! followed by an image of your cum filled pussy as you laid on the carpet.

the rest of task force 141 was not embarrassed to admit the video and photo were quickly saved for later usage. what would they say, price's girl was just fuckable.

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 6

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

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

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

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

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

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt. 5 Pt.7

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

You wonder how he sees out of that thing.

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

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

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

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

It feels like it’s eating you alive.

This is your fault.

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

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

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

But you weren’t.

And now Reese’s blood is on your hands.

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

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

This is your fault.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes you sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too much.

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

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

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

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

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

But your mind is somewhere else entirely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bathtub is gone.

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing left but him.

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

But they cling to you, stubborn and unyielding.

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

And then there’s Reese.

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

"Go to hell, Reese."

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

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

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

And the worst part? Sylus knows it.

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

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

But right now, this moment is yours.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, his name is S—"

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

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

The not knowing gnawed at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, we don't take it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sharp clink. The keys.

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

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

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

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

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

He'd have to walk on foot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey.” A new pet name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But something changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was no blood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From your captor of all people.

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

Anything. Anything to make this pain stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sylus, ple-mmph!”

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

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

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

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

Like he missed you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Devour him.

He's right there.

Grab him!

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "So greedy, aren't you kitten?"

"I'm not trying t-mmph!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sylus…” you whimper weakly.

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

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

"Did you-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[alfheimr]

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?