#the DRIP of this man. unfathomable

[treesinspace]

"Professional Pirate" is SUCH a fun song, it's so good, and SO well-performed

"Upstage, lads! This is my ONLY number!"

This John Silver is an absolute ICON fr fr

Also, how tragic to only give him one number, have you seen how GOOD he is?? 'Tis poetry in motion!!

[lunarsworld]

ʚଓ i’m your babydoll…

warnings: MDNI, 18+, unprotected p in v, overstimulating, the L bomb, dirty talk/explicitness pairing: smallville!clark x f!reader

as soon as you moved to smallville, you had every single persons head turning. the way your hips swayed, your short shorts, and every inch of your exposed skin had the towns teenagers in a frenzy. but one boy in particular caught your eye. what immediately made clark appealing to you was just his sheer size. every man you ever hookedup with was definitely tall, but compared to them clark was an absolute fucking machine.

just for shits and giggles one day, you and lana went to watch a bunch of the guys play basketball. and they just so happened to get so sweaty and hot that they took their shirts off! for the entire rest of the scrimmage, your eyes never left clarks. and oh boy did he notice.

after it ended, like always, you ran up to him with a bottle of ice cold water. when he grabbed it from you, his hands almost fully covered yours and the thought of what he could do with them made you whimper. “you alright?” he questions. you just nod your head in response and look into his eyes, praying and hoping he could make a move. but clark was nervous. so fucking nervous. the way your little ripped jean shorts showed the bottom of your ass? how he could practically see your nipples poking out of your tank top? the poor boy thought he was genuinely about to cum in his pants from just that.

“can we hangout? kinda bored and i have nothing else to do at home…” you muttered out of sheer embarrassment. never in your life has a man made you this dripping, especially considering the fact clark hadn’t even touched you yet. “yea we can chill in the loft or whatever you want. just get in the truck.” he answered, patting the roof of his truck.

30 minutes into the drive and clark found himself pulling over to a cleared space on the side of the road and with you on top of him. grinding your clothed bud against his hardness was so agonizing for you both. “let’s get these off- please,” he begged. to think you were scared of this boy when he was practically whimpering under you just baffled you. you leaned back and let him unbutton your jeans, almost ripping them off with the sheer amount of force, and he started instinctively rubbing his fingers along your clit. “fuck clark. just like that.” you moan into his mouth. as your grinding moves faster against his hips and he can tell your getting close he pulls his fingers away. you whine at the loss of contact but your whole demeanor changes when you look at where clark traded his hands to. he undoes his belt, pulls down his pants, and for the first time in your life you were nervous.

again, like before, you’ve seen all sizes and girths, but clark kent was genuinely inhuman. the length of his cock seemingly would hit up to your belly button if he were all the way in, and his width looked like he could tear you in half with it. “everything alright, baby? your staring ya’know.” he mutters, scared that you’re silently judging him. “no its just i don’t know if it’ll fit.” you whine, putting on an innocent front. you want need clark to lose control. “i’ll go nice and slow for ya, how that sound?” he says, slowly shifting your hips so your hovering over his cock. you slowly begin to sit down, taking in his length. you’re only about halfway down his dick when you wore yourself out. “c’mon, only a little more to go.” clark pleaded and as soon as you hear his little whimper and you squeezed around him and felt his dick twitch inside you, you couldn’t do it anymore. “just use me clark. want you to fuck me like a toy.” you whimper.

that was all the confirmation clark needed. as soon as those words left your mouth he began pounding into you at an unfathomable speed. he hits your g-spot over and over again until your squirting on his dick for the third time. clark wastes no time after that adjusting you into the backseat to finish you off in a mating press. he’s pumping in and out of you slower than before, but this round he’s savoring because now he’s finally ready to cum. he looks at your fucked out eyes, the sweat beading down your forehead, the marks left on your tits, and, his favorite, listens to your broken words. he was relishing in the way your voice was so hoarse and the fact you could barely speak because of his dick. he fucked you dumb. and now you were his. “my fuckin needy girl- yea? gonna cum all on my cock again? fuckin love this shit, love you-” he cuts himself off when he comes in you. and when you come with him as the exact same time, thats how he knows. “good girl, now lets head to the loft and get you cleaned up.” he says, acting like you can really fully process what just happened. “and if you’re good maybe we can do this again, huh?”

a/n: hi sorry if this sucks i haven’t written in a while bc of college acceptances and life and stuff but i hope u guys likey happy valentinesss

[anto-pops]

The Mirror's Heartfelt Reflection - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: In the wake of helping Sylus deal with a few Wanderers terrorizing the N109 Zone, you find yourself neck deep in self-loathing. It isn’t his fault you’re insecure about your lackluster abilities, and it definitely isn’t his fault that you’re so hard on yourself. But he still takes it upon himself to prove just how incredible you really are, and when all is said and done, you find yourself forced to accept that maybe- just maybe- he's telling the truth.

Alternatively summarized as Sylus reverently worshiping you in front of a mirror with his fingers, then with his mouth, then with his... y'know...

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, self-esteem issues, body worship in front of a mirror, size difference, overstimulation

Full fic is now up on Ao3 here (with more diverse tags, as per usual)

It almost seemed cliche for the N109 Zone’s weather to always be dreary, but evidently rain, fog, and more rain was the norm for the danger riddled region. The steady pattering of water hitting the ground was all you could hear as you trudged through puddles towards Sylus’ house in the no-hunt zone, your fists clenched at your side as you did your best to will away your indignant anger. The crime lord of Onychinus was somewhere behind you, likely still bleeding from using himself as a human shield on your behalf, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at present. 

After all, it had been his great idea to step in front of the Deluge Wyrmlord earlier. 

Sure, Sylus might be hard to kill. He might even be immortal, but that didn’t mean he was immune to pain. Yet for some unfathomable reason, he had opted to take the tail swipe the Wrymlord had aimed at you, leaving you to watch on in horror as his shirt was torn to shreds and an array of lesions and bruises alike blossomed across his chest. He had taken the hit without so much as a grimace, much to his credit, but you had fought the remainder of the fight riddled with frustration and fury. 

In short, you were pissed. 

The gargantuan mansion swam into sight through the unrelenting downpour, and you doubled your pace at the same time you heard Sylus’ even footsteps getting closer to you. You didn’t want to talk to him– you didn’t want to talk to anyone. The emotions that gnawed at your stomach were borne of insecurities that you didn’t want to face right now, and with that somber thought in mind, your main priority was taking a hot shower to fend off a potential cold from taking root. 

With more force than was probably necessary, you shouldered the front doors of the house open, not bothering to look behind you when you heard the massive slabs of wood slam against the wall and groan on their hinges. Something moved in the sitting room to your left, and you saw Luke and Kieran jump up into defensive stances before relaxing slightly at the sight of you. 

“Jeez, what’s going on?” Kieran asked incredulously, his hands hovering inches away from his hip where you knew his weapon was hidden. “Where’s Boss?”

On cue, Sylus crossed the threshold of the doorway, made evident by the way the twins looked behind you in unison. Luke spoke up this time, his tone laced with obvious concern as well as surprise. “Holy… what happened? Where’s the Wanderer?” 

“Dead,” Sylus stated nonchalantly. You stopped in your tracks, halfway to the hallway leading towards the guest room, and turned to finally gauge the source of your irritation. 

He was covered in blood, but the deep gashes you’d seen on him earlier had long since been healed by his Evol. You couldn’t see any bruises beneath the frayed tethers of his shirt– just dirt that streaked down his skin due to the rain. His hair was dripping water onto his shoulders and down his cheeks, but aside from all the superficial damage, Sylus was well and truly fine. 

That only served to anger you further. 

The silver haired man turned his ruby red eyes on you, his scrutinizing gaze laced with curiosity as he silently tried to figure out what had led to you storming away from him in the wake of defeating the Wanderer. You pursed your lips and jerked your chin up in a stubborn act of defiance, keeping your expression icy as you met his unwavering stare. 

“Did something else happen out there?” Luke asked cautiously, joining his twin and his boss in staring at you from across the room. The airy laugh that slipped from Sylus was devoid of any humor, and he shook his head in disbelief as he traced his fingers over the massive tear in his button up. 

“Aside from the Wanderer trying to use its tail as a battering ram, no. Although one might think Miss Hunter over there wanted to have her ribs caved in, what with how much hissing she did after the fact.” 

Your blood thrummed in your ears as you began to shake with obvious rage. “I was not hissing. You were completely careless jumping in front of me like that. You’re always doing those sorts of things– why?” 

“Because I can handle it, sweetie.” His matter-of-fact tone did little to quell your vexation, and the way Luke and Kieran both seemed to look away in embarrassment didn’t help matters, either. Having this discussion in front of them was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. Besides, it wasn’t their fault you were angry. If you were being honest, it wasn’t even Sylus’ fault that you were so upset either. 

No, the person you were the most disappointed with was yourself. 

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated with the situation as a whole, and turned around to continue on to your assigned bedroom. “Fine, whatever. Keep using yourself as canon fodder, see if I care.”

“Where are you going?” Sylus called after you, sounding more tired than he had moments prior. “There’s still two more Wanderers near the eastern border that need killing, kitten.”

“I’m going to shower,” you retorted sharply. 

“A little rain and you want to call it quits? I thought you agreed to help me with this–” 

Almost to your room, you shouted down the hall, “The Wanderers will still be there when the rain stops. Go change your shirt or something while you wait and leave me alone.” 

The resounding slam of the guest room door echoing down the corridor spelled the end of the conversation. You didn’t stop to listen through the walls to see what else Sylus and the twins were discussing, instead heading straight for the bathroom and cranking the shower knob to the highest setting. The cold, soggy clothes that stuck to your skin were peeled away swiftly and left on the floor before you stepped under the scalding water to begin scrubbing, your own mind tormenting you all the while. 

The loudest thoughts that seemed to reiterate themselves over and over again were the ones that had been hounding you for as long as you could remember. 

You’re a liability. You’re weak. You’ll always need protection. 

Even the rush of water cascading down your head couldn’t drown them out. 

—

“Again.”

Although Kieran had his mask on, you could practically see the disbelief on his face through his posture alone. His shoulders sagged, and the kickboxing pad he had clutched in his white knuckled grip dropped to the floor in exasperation. “We’ve been at it for hours. How many more times do you plan on doing this? My arm is going to fall off pretty soon.” 

“Again,” you repeated sternly as you wiggled your fingers, the dull ache in your knuckles barely noticeable through the wraps that protected your fists. “If you want to take a break, give the pad to Luke.” 

The twin in question immediately swiveled away from the weapon stand in the corner, raising his hands in front of himself as though to ward you away from him. “No way,” he said tightly. “You already missed the pad and kicked me in the ribs twice. I’m done being your sparring dummy.” 

Kieran threw his free arm up before letting himself fall backwards onto the floor of the sparring ring. The other arm he still had looped through the back of the boxing pad fell beside him with a heavy thud, and you sighed with obvious frustration as you stood straight and planted your hands on your hips. Sweat dripped down your temples and soaked through the loose workout clothes you had on, but you hardly paid it any mind as you glanced around the room for an inanimate object to use for training. Evidently the twins were a lost cause, and you didn’t feel like tracking Sylus down to ask him to practice with you. 

In truth, you were kind of avoiding him. 

After your outburst earlier in the morning, he had disappeared from the house entirely. You’d emerged from the guest room freshly showered and ready to head back out to finish dealing with the Wanderers, but upon entering the living room, you had found only Luke and Kieran. They had been annoyingly tight lipped about where their boss had run off to, but had assured you that he would be back in a few hours. Four hours had passed since then, and since you hadn’t particularly felt like trudging through the rain in search of him, you’d decided to make use of the twin terrors and work on your hand-to-hand in a bid to feel less… useless. 

You hated that you even thought of yourself in such a way, but it was a hard habit to break. Your Evol couldn’t serve you by itself in a fight, and unless you were fighting alongside someone with an offensive Evol of their own, all you had was your martial training. Anytime Sylus or any of your other companions accompanied you on your hunts, all you could do was resonate with them to empower… well, them. You felt like a glorified battery half the time– charging them up while you stood in the backline with your measly pistols. 

You knew it was unreasonable to feel that way. You knew you could stand on your own two feet and be a threat on the battlefield regardless of your Evol. Hell, you had been selected to join the Hunter’s Association Alpha Team immediately after graduating. That had to count for something. 

And yet, it wasn’t enough. 

Another agitated sigh slipped through your teeth as your fingers flexed of their own accord. Kieran was still an unmoving lump on the floor, and Luke warily went back to polishing the collection of blades propped up on the weapon stand. Neither one of them could be persuaded– you were already acutely aware of their stubbornness– so you fixed your eyes on the punching bag strung up from the rafters. It wasn’t sentient, and it couldn’t hit back, but it was as good a target as any for your internal turmoil. 

Just as you were about to duck through the ropes that surrounded the sparring ring, Sylus’ gravelly voice drifted through the dimly lit workout room, halting you in your tracks and drawing the immediate attention of the twins. “Don’t tell me you broke my henchmen,” he teased, his crimson eyes taking in the sight of Kieran sprawled across the floor with blatant amusement. “I know you’re supposed to do your reps until failure, but he looks half dead already.” 

“He’s lazy,” you muttered as Kieran threw aside the kickboxing pad, pushing himself to his feet as quick as his shaky limbs would allow. “They both are. Like fat house cats, content to nap all day.” 

“Excuse me?” Luke chimed in, his hands perching on his hips indignantly. “Say that to my bruised ribs, you tyrant. Why don’t you take your vendetta out on someone who can actually keep up.” 

His pale finger pointed straight at Sylus, who was still leaning leisurely against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. He looked remarkably better than he had when you’d last seen him; no cuts or blood, no bruises, and no torn clothing. His simple black button up was tucked into matching black trousers, and his hair was once again effortlessly styled without a strand out of place. He looked more inclined to attend a business meeting rather than spar with you, but despite that fact, Sylus surprised you by shrugging and striding towards you, already rolling the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. 

“You don’t have to,” you started to say, jerking your thumb over your shoulder towards the punching bag you’d decided on using. “I was going to make use of the other equipment–”

“Living targets make for much better practice, and I can promise you that I won’t tap out like a… what was the term? A fat house cat?” 

Luke and Kieran both scoffed and shook their heads simultaneously, mirroring one another so perfectly that it unnerved you. Kieran swung his legs over the nylon ropes of the ring and landed next to Luke, the two falling into step easily before heading for the door without another word to you or their boss. A tiny, barely there part of you wanted for them to stay to eliminate any awkwardness between you and your newfound partner, but the unspoken challenge in Sylus’ eyes quelled the words before you could utter them. 

The silver haired man hoisted himself up over the ropes effortlessly, bending down to snatch up the abandoned kicking pad from the floor before tossing it haphazardly over the edge of the ring. He waited until Luke and Kieran’s footsteps had disappeared completely from within the hallway before he spoke. “Think you can walk and talk, kitten?” 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you messed with the wraps on your fists before assuming your usual fighting stance. Shuffling your feet apart, you tested your balance as you murmured, “Why do we have to talk? There’s nothing to say.” 

A hint of a smirk pulled at the corners of Sylus’ mouth as he copied your movements, distancing his feet a healthy distance apart and dipping his chin below his raised fists. “I beg to differ. We could talk about your little temper tantrum earlier, or about how you’re being uncharacteristically snappy with Luke and Kieran. We could even talk about the weather if you’d like– it stopped raining, by the way.” 

You said nothing, instead grinding your molars together hard enough that your jaw ached. With Sylus too busy talking, you seized your opportunity and swung your leg out in a wide arc, narrowly missing his head when he smoothly dodged the blow with a wicked grin etched across his face. 

“I see, I see…” he taunted, glancing down obviously enough that you knew he was going to try sweeping your feet out from under you. Sure enough, Sylus dropped into a feline crouch, throwing his leg out as he pivoted himself around on his other foot in a dangerously fast circle. You jumped backwards– avoiding his outstretched limb completely– then dove back in for an immediate counter-attack. He was already standing when your fist connected with his palm, his massive fingers curling over your pathetically small hand as he threw you to the side painlessly, chuckling to himself all the while. Your blood thrummed in your ears, humiliation burning your cheeks from how easily he fended you off. Condescendingly, Sylus mused, “This is all because I jumped in front of you earlier, isn’t it?” 

“Stop talking,” came your disgruntled reply. Desperate to have one of your hits connect, you feinted left before darting back to the right, throwing out a jab-punch combo that grazed his neck at best and missed entirely at worst. 

After humorlessly avoiding your attacks, Sylus began moving, drinking in the sight of you panting and flushed in the middle of the ring. He circled you like a predator corralling its prey, and through the flurry of emotions that wracked you, mortification seemed to be the most prominent. 

“Am I to understand,” he started gruffly, “that you wanted the Wanderer to kill you?” 

“Of course not–”

“Because that’s exactly what would have happened had I not stepped in. You’re upset because I saved you from an agonizing, bone-breaking end, and I have to be honest, kitten, it makes absolutely no sense to me.” 

“That’s not why I’m angry,” you barked at him, wanting nothing more than to lash out with your fists again. Even if the hits didn’t meet their mark, you needed to expel the humiliation that coursed through your veins. 

Suddenly, Sylus was in your face. His overwhelming presence surrounded you, his inquisitive eyes boring into yours as he tried to search your mind for the real reason you’d been so put out all day. Quick as a whip, you shoved against his chest and turned your head away in a bid to protect the dreary thoughts that had plagued you for the bulk of the day. 

“Talk to me,” he half-commanded, half-implored you. “Tell me what thoughts are whipping around through that head of yours.” 

You scowled, turning away from him completely as you strode to the other side of the sparring ring. Sylus followed you easily, unwilling to let you mope your way out of his interrogation, and he planted himself squarely behind you as you started to undo the wraps protecting your fists. “It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing new, anyways…” 

The dejected tone lacing your words didn’t escape Sylus in the slightest, and in the reflection of the mirror straight ahead, you saw his brows furrow at the same time his lips formed a straight line. “Sweetie, if it’s nothing new, that’s all the more reason to talk about it. I know I’m not great at playing the role of a therapist, but if whatever’s bothering you is this serious, I’d like to help.” 

A deep, relenting sigh escaped you at that moment. You unwound the wraps around your hands and let the bandages flutter to the floor listlessly before hesitantly turning back around to face the silver haired man. Sylus’ striking eyes were narrowed with concern, his expression conveying his worry for you plainly enough that you felt your heart trip over itself in your chest. He didn’t deserve to deal with the moodiness that came with your insecurities. Kieran and Luke didn’t, either. Even though it was embarrassing and disappointing to admit, you figured you could at the very least be honest about your diffidence. 

“You can’t help. That’s the thing. It’s– well, it’s stupid.” Sylus gazed at you expectantly, his eyes silently conveying that he would be the judge of that. Looking down at your feet, you forced the rest of the admission from your lips, even though it pained you to do so. “I just want to be able to protect myself. The same way you and all my friends can. I don’t want to have to rely on other people to defend me in a fight, but I don’t think that will ever be possible.” 

Sylus cocked his head to the side in confusion. “You do a pretty good job of defending yourself, kitten. You’ve come a long way since I found you kneeling all alone in the N109 Zone.” 

“It’s not that. I just…” For crying out loud, why was this so difficult? Maybe it had to do with Sylus quite literally being the strongest person you knew. Confessing your insecurities to the leader of Onychinus, the most wanted man in the world, wasn’t exactly child’s play in your mind. Still, you endeavored to try. “My martial training is all I’ve got. My Evol isn’t any good on its own. I can’t conjure fire or ice, I can’t manipulate gravity to lob boulders at enemies. I just… boost other people. I strengthen others, but on my own? I’m a liability.” 

Sylus crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his heel, tapping his fingers against his bicep thoughtfully. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your ability incredibly rare? Anhausen Class Evols aren’t common. You’re actually quite valuable.” 

“Only if I’m fighting with someone who has an offensive ability,” you helpfully supplied, pointing at him for emphasis. “I don’t stand a chance against a Deluge Wyrmlord by myself. I have no choice but to rely on my partners for help. Even though I know it’s irrational and silly, I’ve always resented that. I just… I don't want to be weak.” 

Sylus took in your admission quietly, nodding to himself as his otherworldly eyes bored into yours. To say it left you feeling vulnerable was a monumental understatement. You felt raw. Laid bare before the one person you trusted most. It scared you to think he might think less of you for the revelation, even though deep down you knew Sylus would never judge you for it. 

Fidgeting uncomfortably, you bent down to snatch your wraps off the floor of the sparring ring, pausing before leaving as you tried to come up with what to say next. Sylus beat you to the punch, however, his gravelly voice drawing your attention back to him. “I know it’s subjective, but I’ve always thought you were a skilled fighter. Your Evol aside, you’re invaluable on the battlefield. Quick thinking and clever planning have gotten you far when we fight together. You aren’t a liability, sweetie, and you’re definitely not weak. I think you’re selling yourself short.” 

Your stomach lurched as you realized you’d heard similar placations in the past from your grandma. As worried as she had been when you’d passed your Hunter’s Exam, she was supportive of your career choice and had always done her best to encourage you. She had never wanted your heart condition to slow you down or influence your decision making, and you had convinced yourself a long time ago that she’d played a monumental role in you having made it this far. 

Unfortunately, self-doubt had been a nagging, longtime friend of yours. 

Flashing him a small but grateful smile, you nervously twirled your used wraps around your fingers before jerking your thumb over your shoulder towards the doorway. “Thanks. It’s not a big deal though, I’ll be fine. I’m, uh, going to go shower. Sorry for being a brat earlier, I’ll… I’ll work on the whole confidence thing later.” 

You were relieved that he didn’t stop you as you ducked under the ropes of the sparring ring. As grateful as you were about how he’d handled your admission, you needed some alone time to sift through your thoughts, and another piping hot shower was the perfect opportunity to do so. Reaching for the towel you’d left slung over the weapon rack in the corner, you tossed it over your shoulder and started to make your way to the exit, sneaking a quick glance at Sylus in one of the massive mirrors that lined the wall. 

He was still standing in the center of the ring, gazing straight ahead with a curious look playing on his features. It was an expression you’d seen many times before, usually when he was concocting a scheme of his in the spur of the moment. While part of you was appreciative of Sylus’ natural inclination to flock to your aid and try to make everything better for you, you sorely doubted that this would be one of those times. 

Unless you magically found a way to rid yourself of years worth of self-depricating introspection, you were convinced you would be stuck with these thoughts for the rest of your life. 

—

You had been reading for so long that you were certain your eyes were on the brink of falling out of your head. 

Having long since finished your shower, you’d taken to going over the datapad Sylus had given you the day prior. It was chock full of information on the Wanderers he had asked for help dispatching; where they were, previous reports of attacks linked back to them, their weaknesses. Most of the information was redundant. As a Hunter, you had intimate knowledge about the creatures and their habits. But following your uncomfortable confession earlier in the gym, you were curious as to whether or not it would be possible to handle killing the damn things by yourself. 

Not that you were going to try. You weren’t that stupid. Just… wondering. 

So far, the answer was no. It was suicide to go up against Wanderers of this calibre without an offensive Evol. That, or a good old fashioned, coordinated aerial strike. 

You had neither of those things. 

Sighing in annoyance, you set the datapad on your lap and shoved the heels of your palms into your eyes, rubbing hard enough to see shapes. It had been a couple of hours since you’d last seen Sylus, and you felt bad that your moping had gotten in the way of finishing the job he had brought you along for. There were two more Wanderers that needed killing; an Ignitus Wyrmlord and a Luminivore. Both were high ranking threats, so you doubted that the Onychinus leader would have gone out on his own to deal with them. 

But maybe he had. Maybe he had been staring off into space as you’d left the gym because he’d realized that you were right, and he was better off handling the creatures by himself. He wasn’t the type to wait for approval, much less your own, so the possibility wasn’t too outlandish to consider. 

You were hurting your own feelings thinking as much, though. 

With a muffled thump, you slapped your hands down on the bed and tossed your head back against the pillows. Maybe you needed therapy. Your dejected thoughts weren’t getting you anywhere, and they weren’t going to change anything. At the end of the day, you were who you were, and everyone else was… who they were. You brought plenty of value to the Hunter’s Association just by being yourself. Wishing to be stronger, faster, and more powerful wouldn’t make it happen. Those were traits acquired through hard work, dedication, and pure chance. 

Not by lying in bed reading. 

Just as you were about to shove the datapad off your lap to jump up from the bed, a knock sounded at the door. You nearly tripped over your duffel bag on your way to undo the lock, but once you yanked it open, you were surprised to find Luke on the other side. Or was it Kieran? Sometimes it felt like you were guessing who was who. 

“Sorry to bother you.” Ah, it was Kieran. “Boss asked me to send you up to him. He wants to talk with you.” 

Your brows furrowed and your eyes narrowed, immediately suspicious of the crime lord’s intentions. He had never sent for you before. “Okay…” the lone word was drawn out, your hesitation evident in your tone. “Where is he?” 

It was impossible to tell what kind of expression Kieran wore behind his mask, but his shoulders did stiffen a little in response to the question. He was as uncomfortable with the situation as you were. “He’s in his room. He didn’t seem mad, but I can honestly never tell with him. Good luck.” 

As suddenly as he arrived, he was gone. Literally. You blinked and Kieran had just vanished. He and his brother were as odd as they came, but you steeled your nerves and did your best not to seem rattled as you exited the guest room and padded your way towards the staircase. 

The last time you had stayed with Sylus, he had set you up in a different room on the second floor that was now home to a slew of antique weaponry that had yet to be unboxed. You didn’t mind the room change, but you were beginning to think Sylus had a shopping addiction. Sure, he had the money and never batted an eye at the exorbitant price tags attached to the items. But he never even used half of the things he bought. He really was like a crow. Or maybe a dragon was a better analogy, since he had a tendency to hoard everything he acquired from antique shows and business deals. 

It didn’t take long for you to reach the double doors leading to the master bedroom. The ornate entryway stood tall and forebodingly at the end of the hallway, illuminated by the dim lights that lined the walls. You rapped your knuckles against the dark wood softly, only deigning to let yourself in once you had confirmation from the owner of the chamber. 

“It’s open,” came Sylus’ silk-like voice from the other side. 

Tentatively, you pushed open the door and stuck your head through the crack, unsure of what to find waiting for you. It turned out to be nothing more than Sylus looking over a stack of papers, hunched over the desk in the corner with a clear glass of amber liquid pinched between his long fingers. Perplexed, you slipped inside all the way and shut the door behind you, watching and waiting for the silver haired man to acknowledge your presence. 

There were a few beats of silence as he reorganized the paperwork with one hand before finally turning to face you, bringing his drink to his lips as he did so. It was strange to see him drinking when there were still Wanderers lurking in the N109 Zone. You would have guessed he’d called for you so the two of you could finish the work you had started earlier in the day. Unless…

“Did you deal with the Wanderers already?” 

The only show of surprise on Sylus’ face was the elegant lift of his brow, and he acknowledged your tense posture near the door with a subtle dip of his chin. “You’re really worried about being deemed unnecessary, aren’t you?” 

It was a slap in the face to have the truth so boldly thrown back at you, but the truth did have a tendency to hurt. You nervously clasped your hands together in front of you, wringing your fingers together as your gaze swept across the room. “You disappeared for a while today. Then we never went back out to kill the other two Wanderers… I thought maybe you’d taken care of it yourself.” 

“Then you would be wrong, kitten.” Turning back to the desk, Sylus fluidly beckoned you towards him with one simple curl of his finger. You had half a mind to be stubborn about it, but with how you were feeling right now, you decided to just be obedient. Shuffling over to him, Sylus plucked the piece of paper at the top of the stack back up and held it out to you, watching you over the rim of his glass as he took yet another sip of his drink. 

“What is this?” You didn’t need to ask, as it turned out– you recognized the logo adorning the page instantly. It was a copy of the Hunter’s Association exam records. More specifically, your exam records. How the hell had Sylus gotten his hands on them? Your eyes roved up and down the parchment as you took in the familiar marks, then looked back at the crime lord expectantly. “Why do you have these?”

Tapping the side of his temple closest to his eye, he mused, “I have my ways. But I felt inclined to show you, because I found something interesting about your records.” 

He balanced his forearm on your shoulder as he pointed at the paper you held, and the smoky cologne he wore flooded your senses instantaneously. “Right here,” he pointed to the column on the far right of the page, “are all the divisions that exist within the Association. Scores that are high enough in each section open doorways into possible careers with the agency. Am I right?” 

You nodded. The scoring method allowed for everyone that took the test to have a high likelihood of getting a job, even if it was a lower level position. Only a select few individuals scored high enough to qualify for upper division roles, which was one of the main reasons why the Alpha Team was so small. Quality over quantity, Jenna had told you. 

Sylus continued on, sweeping his finger all the way down the page to where your scores were recorded. “You, my dear, sweet Hunter, managed to pass in every single category. There wasn’t one division you didn’t qualify for. You went straight to the top of the podium because they knew your worth, but to meet the requirements for all of it? That’s nothing to turn your nose up at.” 

Sylus’ motives were all beginning to make sense now. He had said it himself earlier; he wasn’t a therapist, but this was clearly his attempt at making you feel better about your self-critical thoughts. It was… nice of him. Really nice. Moreover, it was news to you. You had hardly looked at your exam results once you’d heard you had been selected to join UNICORNS, because that was all you had ever wanted. But to hear that you had passed with flying colors? Well…

“That doesn’t seem possible,” you muttered, flipping over the page to keep reading. 

Sylus chuckled under his breath and took another sip of his drink before setting the glass down on the desk. “It’s possible. I have it on good authority that it’s happened a few times in the past, but only a few. You could count on one hand the number of times a brainiac was admitted into the Hunter’s Association in the last five years.”

The paper in your hands went limp as you craned your neck to the side to stare up at him, a slew of emotions racing through your mind and imbuing you with the desire to understand. You wanted to grasp the why, more than anything. Why was Sylus going out of his way to make you feel better? Why did he care so much? Why, why, why? 

He seemed to understand the unspoken question based on your expression alone. The arm he had perched on your shoulder slid away, and he gently took the paper out of your hands and waved it tellingly beside his head. “You’re a far cry from a liability, sweetie. Just because your Evol works well with others doesn’t mean you bring nothing to the table, and believe me when I say that I’ll keep reminding you every chance I get.” 

That burning, one word question finally escaped you, sounding airy and uncomfortably meek as it was whispered between the two of you. “Why?”

Something shifted in the air then. A level of bone-deep understanding, of yearning, of unfathomable craving, sparked to life in Sylus’ eyes, and the sight had your breath catching and your lips parting. The leader of Onychinus tilted his head to the side as he took in every detail of your face, one lone strand of his silvery hair falling into his field of view, but it hardly deterred him from drinking in the sight of you before him. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a sly smirk, and he set the parchment back down on the table while maintaining eye contact with you all the while. 

“Because you’re worth the effort,” he evenly proclaimed. 

You damn near broke into tears. 

“Sylus…” you didn’t know what to say– what to do. It was unbelievably soft, the way he said the statement. Gentle and thoughtful and full of intention. He meant every word, and it wasn’t until he’d uttered the statement that you realized just how much you had needed to hear it. 

Taking note of your turmoil, Sylus swiftly captured your hand in his and began guiding you deeper into the room. You followed him dumbly, primarily because you were still processing the utter devotion you had seen glimmering in his ruby red eyes. When the two of you stopped, he released your hand and moved to stand behind you, placing one hand on your shoulder while the other gingerly clasped the underside of your jaw and angled your head straight ahead. “What do you see?” 

It took you a moment to realize that he had positioned you in front of a full length mirror propped up against the wall beside his bed. In the reflection, you could see his luminescent eyes peering at you from over your shoulder, the stark difference in your heights made all the more obvious with how the glass cut off the top portion of his head. Beyond that, though, you weren’t entirely sure what you were meant to be looking for. 

“You’re very tall,” you mumbled obtusely. That earned a throaty chuckle from the man behind you, and you watched as he shook his head to himself. 

“Not me, kitten. You. What do you see when you look at yourself?” 

Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to cater to his line of questioning. Your eyes zeroed in on yourself, scanning your own image from head to toe as you took in every last detail of your appearance. Your hair had dried by now and looked to be rather frizzy, and your nostrils flared as you drew in a deep, steadying breath. Your breasts rose and fell in response to the action, and your toes dug into the carpet on the floor as you tensed nervously. This felt like a test that you were quickly failing, and the thought made you anxious. All in all, you had no clue what part of yourself to focus on. You were just… you. A woman unsure of herself with quite possibly the world’s most confident man standing behind you. 

The irony of that fact didn’t escape you. 

“I don’t know,” you muttered under your breath, and Sylus withdrew his hand from your jaw and trailed the appendage to grasp your other shoulder. “I just see me. Messy hair, pretty eyes, shorter than you.” 

Sylus smirked at you in the reflection, his hands dancing away from your shoulders to skim their way down to your biceps. “Do you want to know what I see?” 

Yes. No. Maybe? Your lips pursed, and you looked at him with a timid sort of anticipation. 

“I see a strong, capable woman,” he emphasized the statement with a subtle squeeze of your arms, drawing your attention to the toned muscle hiding beneath your t-shirt. “I see someone who’s put her entire heart and soul into bettering herself, both physically and mentally. I see a woman who pushes herself to improve constantly, even if she’s already doing a great job to begin with.”

His fingers slid under your arms to trail along your ribs, ghosting one of his hands up your torso to place his palm over your quickening heart. If he heard your breathing stutter, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he bent down and nestled his chin in the crook of your neck from over your shoulder, murmuring his next words directly against your ear. “I see a talented Hunter who refuses to let her heart condition interfere with her goals. She remains headstrong, dutiful, and loyal to a fault, no matter the circumstances.” 

The muscles in your stomach flexed instinctively as Sylus dragged his hands sensually down your front, placing them over one another to allow for him to pull you flush against him. Your body reacted of its own accord, flushing hot at the close proximity and making you acutely aware of every dip and curve of the larger man’s body. Unconsciously licking your lips, your eyes flicked back to his in the mirror, your mouth slightly parted around shallow breaths. “I see a resilient human with a mildly concerning, seemingly bottomless appetite, but who somehow always goes out of her way to share her snacks. I think her love language might be gift giving, but it’s hard to tell. She’s got wit that’s so sharp that I’m convinced it’s a weapon in and of itself. She’s compassionate, caring, and annoyingly selfless.” 

“Sylus–”

“Ah,” he squeezed you tighter to him, silencing your objection before it could be fully expelled. “I’m not finished, kitten.”

Maybe not, but you were coiled tighter than a spring. You genuinely didn’t know how much more of his hedonistic touching and breathily whispered sweet-nothings you could take. A salacious sort of desire was flooding your veins, compelling you to turn around and act on your urges, but Sylus’ ironclad hold prevented you from doing so. He smiled smugly as though he was aware of your internal thoughts, nestling his chin deeper into the crook of your neck while his hands traversed lower, encroaching dangerously upon your nether region. 

“To get superficial, she’s unbelievably beautiful. She gets this certain look on her face when she’s really concentrated, and her nose tends to scrunch up like a cat hissing when she’s angry. Watching her fight is one of the most satisfying things on this planet. She’s fluid, graceful, and can drive home a killer roundhouse kick.” 

Ever so gently, Sylus turned his head so he could press his lips against your thundering pulse point, delivering a passionate but equally chaste kiss against your skin that made your eyelids flutter and your knees buckle. You were suddenly immensely grateful that he was holding you upright against him. He murmured huskily against your throat, “She might kill me if she hears this, but I love to watch her walk away from me. Her hips sway in this hypnotic way that drives me crazy, and she’s got these perfect legs on her that I love to imagine hanging over my shoulders.” 

Fuck.

When Sylus looked at you in the mirror through his lashes, you swore up and down that he was channeling some transcendent sex demon from another world. He looked carnal. Wholly and unequivocally erotic. The hunger that shone in his eyes had heat pooling rapidly between your legs, and you found yourself unconsciously clenching your thighs together to ease the growing ache there– a move that did not escape Sylus’ attention in the slightest. 

You could see the smile in his eyes as he toyed coyly with the hem of your pants, tracing his long, dexterous fingers along the elastic band and dipping the tips of his digits between the fabric and your skin. It was maddening– absolutely torturous– and all of it left you wanting more. 

More of his praise, more of his touch, more of his attention. More of Sylus. You had never felt so seen and desired in your entire life. Part of you didn’t even care if it was all lip service. You would gladly choose to believe Sylus’ pretty lies if it meant he would keep the veiled duplicity coming. The way he held you, touched you, spoke to you, commanded a feeling within your body that was addicting, and you desperately wanted more of it. 

Sylus broke your sinful train of thought with a lewd motion of his own; he boldly slipped his fingers under your waistband, tugging the material down your hips testingly but only daring to expose the outline of one of your hip bones. A shiver rolled down your spine as he caressed the uncovered bit of skin with his thumb, watching you like a predator from over your shoulder with unrestrained appetite. 

When you twitched your hips up a little to spur him onwards, he hesitated. You met his inquisitive gaze in the mirror once again, your flushed, riled appearance a stark contrast to his controlled, put together one. “Sylus,” you whispered breathily. “Please?” 

Ever the gentleman, Sylus obliged you with a throaty chuckle. He sensually dragged his fingers to the other side of your pants, tugging the attire lower and revealing inch after inch of your soft flesh. His long arms gave him the reach necessary to push the clothing all the way past your thighs, and it pooled in a disheveled heap around your feet with a barely there noise. Your underwear went next, and the anticipatory breaths you sucked down were the only sound that filled the otherwise quiet room. 

Bare from the waist down, your eyes flicked between your own body and Sylus, who seemed to be eating you alive with his lust-riddled gaze. He snuck one hand under your shirt, just below your breasts, as the other situated itself under your navel, and he held your gaze as he turned to take your earlobe between his teeth. The delicate feeling of his teeth clamping over it was entirely too delectable to admit, but you showed your approval in the form of a tiny, raspy moan. 

Releasing your lobe, Sylus pressed his lips against your ear, whispering seductively against you, “Now what do you see?” 

You watched helplessly as your face flushed an impressive shade of crimson, spreading down your neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of your shirt. The hand Sylus had hidden under there crept higher– skimming between your breasts as though seeking out the warmth that radiated there. Wide-eyed, nervous, and incredibly self-conscious, you struggled to bite out, “Me.” 

“I’ll tell you what; if you can be more specific, I’ll up the reward factor. How’s that sound?” 

You were positive you were going to die of embarrassment. Your mind was slow to process that this was actually happening– that Sylus had you held tight to him, his hands just inches away from two of your most intimate areas. How you had gone from being frustrated with him this morning to putty in his hands now was a mystery to you. What you did know for certain was that you wanted more of what he was offering. A lot more, if you were being honest with yourself. 

“I see you holding me,” came your shaky description. “With my pants around my ankles.” 

Humming his approval, Sylus began to move his hands to where you craved them. His fingers scraped along the light dusting of hair below your navel, sneaking ever-so-close to the wetness gathering between your legs. The other moved to cup one of your breasts, the pads of his fingers flicking over your hardening nipple and drawing an unsteady gasp from you. “Tell me what I’m doing, kitten. Be as precise as you can.” 

Silver hair flashed in your peripheral vision as Sylus ducked his head to mouth wetly under your ear, peppering a collection of noisy kisses along the slender column of your throat. At the same time he brought his mouth into play, his hands upped the ante; he simultaneously began rolling the peak of your breast between his fingers as the other, lower appendage started to explore between your folds, sliding easily through the slick that gathered there. The feeling was almost enough to keep you from answering him, but then you remembered his bargain. 

“You’re touching me. Kissing my neck. You’re playing with… with my breasts, and your hand is–” a strangled sound slipped past your lips as Sylus pressed the pad of his fingers to your clit, causing your legs to give out for a split second. “S-Shit…” 

Acting as your steadfast anchor, Sylus held you tighter to him as he backed up a few steps, sitting down on the edge of the bed with you firmly balanced on his lap. He made sure to keep you facing the mirror, much to your dismay, and he lifted his head from your neck to grin wickedly at you in the reflection. “Don’t stop now, kitten. You’re doing great…”

The attention he bestowed upon your bundle of nerves didn’t relent as he encouraged you, and your head fell back against his shoulder at the same time your hips bucked up into his touch. “I can’t, Sylus, I can’t–”  

“You poor thing,” he murmured against you, and you could feel his lips curl into a self-satisfied smile. “At least tell me how I’m making you feel.”

You weren’t sure if that was a better alternative or not, but you closed your eyes and let yourself focus wholly on the movements of his hands, relishing in the sensations that washed over your body in response. The fluttering ache in the pit of your stomach ebbed and flowed as Sylus pinched and tugged on your nipple, your toes curling as his long fingers danced around your clit and smoothly slid through your soaked slit. He teased the tips of his hand closer to your entrance, and your desire to feel him inside of you was overwhelming. 

“It feels good,” you managed to wheeze out through your teeth. “It feels really good– I feel hot.”

“Hot, huh? Should I stop and give you a chance to cool off?” 

The deviant behind you made a point to withdraw his fingers away from your wet heat, and you whimpered disapprovingly. You shook your head against his shoulder, cracking your eyes open to stare at him pleadingly in the mirror. “N-No, please– I want more. I want to feel you inside me. Please, Sylus?” 

Beneath the swell of your rear, you felt Sylus’ cock twitch against you, your begging evidently acting as his undoing. He tittered to himself shakily, the fingers that played with your nipple splaying to cup your entire breast, and the testing squeeze he gave the soft flesh had you melting against him even more. “I like the way you sound when you beg, kitten,” he rumbled, teasing his middle finger against your hole just enough to leave your hips trembling with barely contained want. “So well mannered, so polite.”

The praise left you boneless in his arms, amplified tenfold by the feeling of his digit pressing into you. You moaned fervently, your thighs instinctively sliding farther apart to give him more access. Your hands came to grip the forearm Sylus had wrapped around your waist, and you blearily watched as he buried his mouth into your neck again to sink his teeth into the junction of your throat, laving his tongue over the bite in-between his efforts to suck his mark into your skin. 

“Sylus…” you sighed, twitching your hips into his palm in a bid to derive friction against your clit. He catered to your attempts, pressing the heel of his hand against the bundle of nerves deliciously as he took to languidly pumping his finger into you. It was exactly what you’d been searching for, and he mindlessly squeezed your breast as you arched into him and let loose a deep, rumbling groan. 

Ruby red eyes met your half-lidded ones in the mirror as he broke away from your neck, the love-bite he’d left behind glowing bright against your skin. Venereal hunger emanated from him, his lips parting ever-so-slightly as he took in the sight of you falling apart on his lap. The blatant passion he gazed at you with was enough to make your head spin, your eyes fluttering shut once again. It was one thing to let yourself be overcome with such profuse pleasure, but it was a whole other thing to watch it be bestowed upon you. It was a level of intimacy you had never considered– never imagined– and you couldn’t decide if you found the entire display erotic or embarrassing. 

Maybe it was a little bit of both. A lot of both, actually. 

The hand that cupped your breast slid down your torso to escape the confines of your shirt, reappearing under your jaw to allow for Sylus to angle your head exactly where he wanted it. Your eyes snapped back open at the feeling, watching mutedly as he pumped his finger deeper into you and roughly ground his palm against your clit. Your breathing hitched around a strangled croak, and a sinful smile split Sylus’ face. 

“Look at how pretty you are, kitten,” he whispered against your ear. It shouldn’t have been anatomically possible, but the flush that decorated your face darkened immeasurably. “Spread wide for me, taking my finger like it’s nothing. Do you want more?” 

You nodded, Sylus’ hand following the movement since his fingers were still gripped snug beneath your jaw. 

“I need you to say it. Use your words, sweetie. I know you can do it.” 

“I… want more,” you said huskily. “I want more, Sylus. P-Please?” 

“Good girl,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder, red eyes glued to yours all the while. He watched you rapaciously as he eased out his middle finger, then returned with his index finger added alongside. There was mercifully no teasing to be found as Sylus pressed both of the digits into your soaked, eager hole, the stretch taking nothing more than half a second to get used to. The hitched, keening noise that escaped you reverberated off the walls of the bedroom, and your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to keep your eyes open and focused on Sylus. “So tight, kitten… does it feel good?” 

You nodded brainlessly, digging your nails into the skin of Sylus’ forearm as he angled the tips of his fingers up. “Y-Yes, yes,” you whimpered, left with no choice but to watch your reflection in the mirror as Sylus worked to undo you. 

The heady flush that stretched across your skin coupled with your messy, undone hair had you looking positively wrecked already. Wrinkles covered the shirt you still wore, and through the material, you could see your pert nipples jutting against the fabric. Sylus still looked remarkably put together, but there was a telling flush growing across his own cheeks that clued you in on how affected he was beginning to get. That, and you could feel his growing erection pressed up against your backside. 

With what little movement you could muster, you shifted your hips in his lap to press down hard against his cock, and the instant result was by far the most gratifying thing you’d ever seen. Sylus’ head fell against your shoulder, a guttural moan sounding from deep within his chest, and the hand he had wrapped snug around your jaw tightened enough that your next breath was stolen from you. Those plush lips of his parted around a shaky exhale, and the fingers he had stuffed inside of you tensed. When he looked back to meet your awaiting stare in the mirror, you flashed him a coy smirk that ignited a spark of mischievousness in his eyes. 

“You… you’re a daring little minx, you know that?” 

Before you could respond, Sylus recovered in record time and increased the tempo of his fingers, pumping them faster and curling them dexterously within you as though the insistent pressing would reveal something to him. You had no clue what he was aiming for, but the quicker pace had his palm rubbing insanely good against your clit, and a fire seemed to catch in your veins. 

“F-Fuck, Sylus–” your babbling was cut short by the hand around your jaw tightening again, your back molding to Sylus’ chest as he guided your head back to rest against his shoulder. You panted shallowly as he worked his wrist harder, plunging the digits deeper into you, until eventually a sharp pang of arousal shot through you. “Fu– ah!”

Your body tensed against him, and Sylus groaned in abject satisfaction, pressing the side of his cheek against yours as he quickened his pace and aimed for that same spot again and again and again. It was insane– it felt staggeringly intense– enough so that you found it hard to breathe through the waves of ecstasy that crashed over you. The larger man continued to fuck you with his fingers until you began to writhe in his arms, your muscles trembling and your chest heaving with uncontrolled panting. The wet sound of his palm rubbing against your swollen clit filled the air, accompanying the strangled sounds of your labored breathing. 

Sylus panted hot and heavy against your jaw, watching eagerly as your climax reached its boiling point in the pit of your stomach. “You’re close, aren’t you, kitten? I can feel it… do you want to come?” 

Your voice was shrill and desperate as you sobbed, “Yes!” 

“I want you to look,” he implored you, working you so close to the edge that you were prepared to do anything he wanted if it meant he would carry you over the teetering brink. “Look at yourself– watch how perfectly you come on my fingers, kitten. Show me that pretty expression.” 

Words were beyond you at this point– you were a shaky, noisy, needy mess in Sylus’ arms, the metaphorical cord in your gut wrought tighter than a wire. Still, you obeyed his request, lifting your limp neck off his shoulder to gaze into the mirror straight ahead, and it was the sight of Sylus watching you ravenously that finally sent you careening into the abyss. 

You came with a hoarse cry of Sylus’ name, tightening impossibly around his fingers as your hands flew to dig into the sides of his legs beneath you. Your vision flashed white and your ears rang as he continued to fuck you open, thrusting his fingers harder and rubbing that one spot that left you gasping and choking on nonsensical pleas. The wetness that slid down your thighs and dampened Sylus’ lap barely registered to you– not until your body finally went lax against him and you proceeded to shake violently. He stifled a moan of his own as your weight settled directly on his throbbing, neglected cock, but he paid it no mind as he slowed the pace of his fingers and continued to work you through your orgasm until you were nothing but a twitching, whining mess in his arms. 

It took a while for you to approach anything resembling a functional human. Eventually, the feeling of Sylus withdrawing his fingers and peppering soft kisses along your neck roused you from your post-coital state, and you cracked your eyes open to find him staring fondly at you from over your shoulder. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your heated skin. “So gorgeous. I love the sounds you make.” 

The amount of sweetness that Sylus exuded was quickly approaching unnatural. Especially because you could feel how hard he was beneath you, and thus far, he had made no move to relieve himself in any way, shape, or form. It couldn’t be comfortable, but his attention had been unwaveringly fixed on you from the moment you’d entered his room. 

“Sylus…” you breathed his name gently, shifting your hips a little so you applied added friction to his cock. He grunted in response, his eyes pinching together slightly as he stared warily at you in the mirror. “What about you?” 

“This isn’t about me, kitten,” he rumbled, sliding his hand away from your jaw and trailing the appendage down to splay atop your thundering heart. “I wanted to do something for you. Trust me, getting to watch you fall apart on my lap was plenty fulfilling.” 

While you didn’t doubt that he’d derived some sort of second hand enjoyment from fingering you, you had reservations about the fulfilling part of his statement. Nothing about his twitching, throbbing cock seemed ”fulfilled” to you, and now that you had gotten a taste of what Sylus had to offer, you found yourself wanting more. 

Much, much more. 

“I…” your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words. Sylus watched you intently all the while, his fiery gaze making you shiver. “What if I want it to be about you?” 

His brow rose a fraction of an inch, his shaft throbbing tellingly beneath you. His hands traversed your pliant body reverently, coming to rest on your hips so his fingers could ghost along your jutted hip bones suggestively. “I wouldn’t let it be about me, sweetie. But if it’s what you want, then I’d be thrilled to oblige.” 

Without giving yourself time to question whether it would be overstepping, you mustered up the strength to angle your body sideways so you could face Sylus fully, not in the reflection of the mirror. The smile he gave you once you turned around was lofty and full of male pride, but you really didn’t care how pleased with himself he was. If he wanted to keep things all about you, then you would gladly be selfish. 

When you leaned in to kiss him, it was delicate. Exploratory and testing. You wanted to gauge just how much you could get away with before Sylus drew a line in the sand. If he drew a line in the sand. It was obvious just how much he was affected by you physically, but in the event there was something he didn’t like or wouldn’t be interested in, you wanted to give him the chance to make it clear to you. 

As it turned out, kissing wasn’t something he had an issue with. 

One of his hands rose from your waist to the back of your neck, holding you fast to his incredibly soft mouth as an approving moan sounded from deep in his chest. Your tentative pace was replaced almost instantly with a more urgent one as Sylus leaned into the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue so he could sweep the inside of your mouth with the muscle. The hand on your hip tightened, and the one on your neck curled into a loose fist as he gathered a handful of your hair in his grip. The cautionary kiss you had instigated quickly turned into one of passion driven forward by Sylus, and your heart soared with satisfaction. 

Every minute sound that left you was swallowed up greedily by Sylus. He wasn’t kissing you so much as he was devouring you. The restraint he had practiced earlier had officially manifested into a voracious, insatiable version of the man you knew, and you went weak in the knees when it dawned on you that it was all for you. 

“Tell me to stop now, kitten,” Sylus panted roughly against your lips, having finally withdrawn to catch his breath. Your lust-dark eyes were pinned to him as he let go of your hair to brush a few stray strands out of your face, then cupped the side of your cheek to return your intense gaze. “Because if you don’t, I won’t ask again. I won’t be able to later.” 

Your breasts rose and fell in quick succession as you sucked down greedy breaths. Placing your own hand over his, you bit your lip and shook your head timidly, whispering softly, “I don’t want you to stop.” 

Something halfway between a sigh and a growl came from Sylus then. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, their usual crimson hue replaced almost entirely by black. His fingers twitched against your cheek, and your stomach lurched with arousal as he licked his lips eagerly. 

In one swift motion, he rose to his feet with you held fast in his arms, then turned around to roughly deposit you in his original spot on the bed. The speed with which he moved spoke volumes of his excitement, and you matched his pace by immediately reaching for the hem of your shirt. He aided you in hurriedly yanking the material over your head, your breasts bouncing as you threw the attire to the floor and scooted closer to the center of the bed. Sylus watched as you situated yourself against the pillows, his hands moving in quick succession over the buttons holding his own shirt together. The row of clasps parted to reveal creamy, toned muscle underneath, and you found your mouth watering in anticipation as he shed the fabric over his toned shoulders and moved on to his pants. 

As soon as your eyes settled on the outline of his cock in his briefs, you knew you were in for it. He was huge. Even through his undergarments, he looked strikingly thick and equally as long, a pronounced wet spot evident near the head. The crime lord drank in your expression with glazed over eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he teased the tips of his fingers between the waistband and his hips. 

“Scared, kitten?” 

You didn’t miss a beat, “That’s not normal.” 

Sylus let out a sharp bark of laughter, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “Remind me again what about me strikes you as normal.” When you opened your mouth to respond, then snapped it shut with an audible crack of teeth, he smiled. “We’ll go slow, don’t worry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” 

After being so heavily spoiled by him and finding yourself craving more, the absolute last thing you wanted to do was take things slow. You wanted him inside of you now– your still-soaked center throbbing with blatant need. You wanted Sylus to take you by your hips and drive his cock into you fast and hard and leave you a drooling, lust-drunk mess. You wanted more of his praise, more of his attention, more of his scorching touch and intoxicating kisses. 

You wanted it all. But you were willing to be patient if that was what he felt you needed. 

Chewing the inside of your cheek nervously, you nodded up at him. His eyes crinkled at their corners as he started to slide his briefs down his toned legs, revealing inch after inch of his insane member until it was fully freed and arching proudly against his taut stomach. Gravity seemed to be struggling to drag the thick appendage down, and your eyes went wider than saucers as you silently questioned just how the hell he would fit inside of you. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to find out, though. 

Sylus somehow managed to make tossing underwear over his shoulder look graceful, and you blinked at him in awe as he knelt on the mattress and began crawling towards you. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart to make room, expecting for him to situate himself between your thighs to jump right into what you’d been looking forward to. He took you by surprise, however, when he looped his arms under your knees and yanked you down the pillows closer to him, ignoring your yelp of alarm as he settled onto his stomach and tossed your legs over his shoulders, his face mere inches away from your sopping wet center. 

You started to object, “What are you–” 

“I told you earlier, didn’t I?” He fixed you with a sultry look that had your mouth drying up instantly, and you audibly gulped. “I said I’ve always wondered what your legs would look like hanging over my shoulders. Let a man indulge a little, sweetheart.” 

The tips of his fingers ghosted lightly over the tops of your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he exhaled against your folds. You shivered at the deferential way he seemed to look up at you, his sharp, angular features conveying a degree of tenderness that made your heart lurch. As quick it appeared, though, it vanished– replaced by an unquenchable zeal that had your breath hitching and your muscles tensing. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the animalistic way Sylus sealed his mouth over you, however. There was no warning before he dragged the flat of his tongue up your slit, taking exceptional care to circle your still-sensitive bundle of nerves in spite of your writhing. Your body jerked of its own accord, your stomach flexing as you unconsciously shifted your hips in some vain attempt to escape the onslaught of overstimulating pleasure the man bestowed upon you– all for naught. Sylus tightened his arms around your legs to hold you still, groaning with delight as your spine bowed off the mattress and in turn forced more of you on his tongue. 

“S-Sylus, shit–” you gasped breathlessly, your hands gathering up and yanking at fistfuls of the satin sheets that adorned the bed. Your eyes rolled back into your skull when you felt Sylus probe at your entrance with his tongue, and you mewled pitifully when he plunged the soft, wet muscle into your equally wet center. “God, Sylus–”

You heard and felt him chuckle against you, his otherworldly eyes fluttering open to stare up at you as you crumbled in his arms. His hands curled tighter around your thighs, holding you in place with a sort of casual ease that spoke volumes of his innate strength, and he waited for you to meet his gaze before he brazenly tilted his head forward to rub his nose against your clit. 

The shrill cry that tore from you echoed off the walls, and your hands flew to his hair before you could stop yourself. If the feeling of your nails scraping against his scalp was unpleasant, he didn’t show it. Instead, Sylus continued his never-ending assault against your soaked core with unabashed vigor, his sporadic groans accompanying the wet, sordid sounds he made with his mouth. 

There was no way you were going to survive. It was too much. Your nerve endings were scorched beyond capacity, and the blazing inferno that burned in your gut threatened to melt you from the inside out. First his hands, and now his mouth? Was there any part of him that didn’t possess such… talent? 

The irrelevant thought was banished from your mind as Sylus decided to focus his efforts on your clit once again, sucking the swollen nub into his mouth and laving his tongue over it incessantly. 

He was trying to kill you. 

Digging your heels into his back, you tugged at his hair harder and lolled your head from side to side, struggling to form a coherent sentence to warn him that you were close. Sylus angled his head so that he could watch you come undone beneath him, his eyes taking on a heady, bewitching quality that had you thinking he could see into the depths of your very soul. Almost hesitantly, he pulled away from your brutalized center, reaching over your thigh so he could replace his mouth with his thumb as he said, “One more time, kitten. Let me see you come again. You’re being so good– just one more time for me.” 

Fuck.

It wasn’t like you could say no, much less stop yourself from careening over the edge for the second time. Especially not when Sylus’ mouth dove back on your clit, licking maddeningly over the nub as though he were a starved animal. You spasmed against the sheets, a raspy cry ripping from your throat as you climaxed again, blind and mute to the world as your legs clamped down on either side of Sylus’ head. The crime lord didn’t seem to care in the slightest. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the feeling immensely, a gruff moan resonating from his chest and reverberating against your puffy, overstimulated center. 

When your body finally sagged into the mattress, Sylus was still lapping up the evidence of your arousal with persevering gusto. You were beyond words at this point, your tongue serving as nothing more than a lead weight in your mouth, so all you were able to do was shove weakly at his head in your attempts to get him to stop. 

Thankfully the man still retained a sense of mercy, because he pulled away swiftly and immediately began stroking your legs comfortingly, his red eyes boring into yours as he licked the remnants of your pleasure from his lips. You were certain you had never seen such a depraved sight in your life, and a feeble whimper slithered its way from your sore throat. 

“I knew it,” Sylus mused thoughtfully, breaking the thick silence that permeated the air. Still struggling to work your vocal chords, you furrowed your brows at him questioningly. “You taste sweet. I had a hunch, and you proved me right.” 

If anymore blood pooled in your cheeks, you were sure your head would explode. 

“And your legs are just as perfect as I thought they’d be,” he gently slid your boneless limbs off of his shoulders, sitting up just enough to give himself the range he needed to move over you fully. Crimson eyes scanned you hungrily as he asked, “Think you can wrap them around my waist, or are you too far gone?” 

In the throes of ecstasy, you had forgotten that Sylus wasn’t tormenting you with his mouth for nothing. He was preparing you. The thought of experiencing more didn’t scare you as much as it excited you, and you wordlessly lifted your knees off the bed in response, doing your best to keep them steady as they trembled against your will. 

The way you obediently waited for Sylus seemed to be his breaking point, because all of his prior restraint vanished in an instant as he gripped your knees and held them steady, helping you so that you could hook your quivering ankles around his waist. Once he let go, he moved to capture one of your hands in his, taking care to place a chaste, tender kiss to your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pinning the limb to the bed above your head. You panted and wiggled closer to him, shivering when you felt the thick head of his cock fall heavy against the sparse collection of hair below your navel, and then you watched through your lashes as Sylus lined himself up with your wet, waiting heat. 

He stopped himself a moment before he pressed in, leaning down to kiss you softly– delicately– then rested his forehead against yours to stare unblinkingly into your eyes. “Last chance, kitten. You’re sure about this?” 

Despite your spent state beneath him, you huffed out a laugh and smiled warmly. “I thought you said you weren’t going to ask again.” 

He gave you a lopsided shrug, then smirked and squeezed your hand tighter in his larger one. “I guess I’m just full of surprises.” 

Without thinking, you closed the miniscule distance between the two of you and kissed him again, your unrestrained hand curling around the back of his neck to hold his mouth securely to yours. Sylus returned the action with equal fervor, inhaling sharply when he felt your hips wiggle tellingly against his throbbing manhood. Breaking away just enough to murmur breathlessly against his lips, you said, “I’m sure.”

With a quick, parting peck to your kiss-swollen mouth, Sylus kept his eyes glued to yours as he slowly began to press home. The initial breach was jarring, even with how wet and pliant you were in the wake of his preparation. The tip of his cock entered you incredibly slowly, your nails digging into the back of his neck as you willed your body to breathe through the momentary discomfort. Sylus halted his hips there to give you time to adjust, pressing his lips to yours again and tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours and letting loose a contented groan. The kiss felt electric; so perfect, so slow, and so messy that you couldn’t help but welcome the wave of affection that washed over you for the Onychinus leader. 

There was no way you could be content with this remaining a one-time tryst. Not with the powerful emotions that swept through you in response to Sylus’ words and actions. He had effortlessly wormed his way so deep into your heart that you doubted you would ever be able to rid yourself of your sentiments. Even before now, he had gone out of his way to cater to your every desire, helping you with anything you asked and looking out for you when you didn’t. Today had only solidified the feelings you had felt for a long, long time, and you didn’t want to give that up. You wouldn’t give that up. 

“Sylus,” you breathed in-between kisses. “Sylus, I like you. I like you a lot.” 

He chuckled against your mouth and drew back slightly, just enough to get a good look at your flushed, timid expression. “I like you a lot too, kitten. I always have and I always will.” 

The way he said the declaration hit you with the force of a train. It was as though a lifetime of devotion had been unearthed with those few words, and a deep, profound attachment settled hot and heavy in your chest. You loved this man. You loved Sylus, and part of you felt like you had loved him for lifetimes. 

Words weren’t enough to convey what you wanted to say, so you settled for sliding your hand away from his neck to splay your fingers over his sternum, his heartbeat thundering wildly beneath your palm. A shiver worked its way over him, his free hand coming to cover yours as his muscles rippled with restraint, and then he exhaled loudly. That was the only cue you needed to spur him onwards, encouraging him to pick up where he had left off. 

You nudged his lower back with your heels, then groaned softly when he started to press more of himself into you. This time there was no discomfort. Only a slick, easy slide that left the two of you gasping one another’s names into the humid air. Once he was fully sheathed within your heated, pulsing walls, you found yourself nearly breathless. His cock twitched eagerly inside of you as he gave you yet another moment to gather your bearings, somehow managing to keep his composure, which was more than could be said for you. 

Your mind was fucking blown. Sex was one thing, but this was sex with Sylus. The same ruthless, calculating crime lord that turned his enemies into mist and brought his rivals to their knees with a thought. The same man who commanded attention and respect just by walking into a room. The same man who withstood bullet wounds and Wanderer attacks like they were nothing more than irritating bug bites. That was the same man holding your hands now, being so strikingly gentle and waiting so incredibly patiently for you to adjust to the perfect, thick cock that filled you up so deep and so good. 

When you finally relaxed and stopped clenching your thighs around Sylus’ waist, he removed your hand from his chest and intertwined your fingers with his, then pinned the appendage above your head to mirror your other arm. Being so close to your face again allowed for him to begin trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing at the junction of your shoulder to suck lightly at the salty skin there. “Tell me when, kitten,” he muttered roughly, his own need evident in the gravelly tone of his voice. “You’re running the show here.” 

You angled your head to the side to give Sylus better access to your throat, and he nipped playfully at your collarbone before drawing back enough to glance at you. You had to look a special brand of fucked up, because Sylus let loose a groan laced with blatant yearning, and his hips twitched forward slightly. 

As if the sheer width and length of his cock wasn’t enough, you could feel every mouthwatering vein that pulsed along his shaft. The subtle drag through your innermost walls had you arching suddenly– that one spot he had previously assaulted with his fingers now being wholly enveloped by his length. “Yes,” you gasped, digging your nails into the backs of his hands. “M-Move. Feels insane…”

Sylus chuckled under his breath, withdrawing his hips cautiously before pushing back in faster. It was still a tentative pace, but unmistakably swifter than before. The feeling of his cock sliding past that magic place inside of you had you gasping around a keening moan, and your head flew back in response to the sensations that washed over you. 

Bliss, euphoria, ecstasy. Whatever it was, it was addictive, and you wanted more. 

Sylus didn’t need to ask. Your body language was enough for him to go off as he worked to set a steady rhythm, pumping his hips languidly as his hands tightened almost painfully around yours. Your breathing quickly became labored as the head of his cock reached deep inside of you, seemingly punching the air from your lungs every time he bottomed out. Needy, desperate noises fell from your lips, and when your eyes snapped back to ruby red ones, you found Sylus watching you with rapt focus, unwilling to look away for fear of missing the way your lips parted with each, assessing thrust. 

When your heels dug into the small of his back again, he exhaled roughly and dropped his head closer to yours. “Think you can take more, sweetie?” 

You nodded brainlessly, so drunk on the feelings he was giving you that you would have agreed to anything. The fact that you did actually want more just so happened to be a happy coincidence. 

Sylus grunted and wedged his knees further beneath you, giving him the support and leverage he needed to draw his hips back again before spearing his cock into you harder, the force from the action causing you to cry out with unrestrained rapture. It hit so deep, the slight angle change allowing for him to reach so unbelievably far inside of you that it felt like he was stirring up your very insides. 

From that point on, things shifted from testing and exploratory to frantic and ravenous. Having been given the green light, Sylus pumped his hips into you with unleashed vigor, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin reaching your ears as your mouth fell open. You were moaning, wheezing, gasping, and crying Sylus’ name over and over again, your mind going blank in lieu of his cock effectively muddling your brain’s ability to think. All you could do was take it with your legs hooked around him and your hands pinned by your head, entirely at his mercy as he worked the tip of his shaft past that pleasure inducing spot within you. 

The sound of Sylus groaning your name pulled you back down to the present, and your eyes cracked open to find silver strands of hair falling into his face as his head hung heavy between his shoulders. “You feel incredible, sweetie. So good, so wet. You’re a work of fucking art.” 

“S-Sylus,” your hands flexed in his hold weakly, your legs quaking from the effort it took to keep them wrapped around his narrow waist. Between the unrelenting slam of his hips against your ass and the mounting pressure building in the pit of your stomach, your body felt like it was being pulled in a million different directions. You were fairly certain drool spilled from the corners of your mouth as you senselessly babbled, “Sy– fuck– c-can’t, I can’t–”

Sylus picked up on your struggle and quickly readjusted your positions; he released your hands to coax your legs off of his hips, guiding the boneless limbs down to the mattress before coiling his fingers under your knees. You were utterly indisposed as he hoisted one leg up and draped it over his shoulder yet again, then pushed the other one far to the side to spread you wide open while simultaneously giving you the reprieve you had desperately needed. 

The newfound angle, in turn, served to drive you higher than you had thought possible. 

When Sylus reared his hips back to continue hammering his cock into you, you found that his thrusts had transformed from deep to cervix-kissing. Your spine arched clean off the bed as you threw your head back and wailed Sylus’ name, your hands clawing at the sheets so violently that your nails caught on some of the threads and tore them apart. Sylus was growling above you, his rough, panted breaths punctuated by his equally rough thrusts, and his eyes squeezed shut as he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee over his shoulder, biting and sucking at your skin hard enough that you knew it would bruise. 

His control was slipping, though. Through the overwhelming ecstasy that threatened to boil over within your core, you could feel as Sylus’ pace began to falter. The snapping of his hips became more erratic, his teeth clamped down harder on your leg, and the fingers he had dug into your thigh spasmed as he fought his release with everything in him. If you could get your tongue to function, you would ask him what the hell he was waiting for. 

But then he cracked those luminescent eyes of his open again, letting go of the leg you had stretched out on the bed so he could reach between your thighs. 

“Come on,” Sylus implored you, his fingers rubbing relentless little circles against your swollen clit. “Come on, kitten. One more time for me. Let me feel you come on my cock– come for me.” 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

The shaky groans that rumbled through you quickly turned into shrill cries of Sylus’ name as you came, your hands tearing vehemently at the satin sheets as your walls clamped down on his cock. Through the ear splitting ringing that echoed around your skull, you managed to make out the sound of Sylus groaning your name loudly, the feeling of his fingers digging into your thigh registering alongside the wavering pumping of his hips. His quick, pounding pace quickly deteriorated into something sloppier, more irregular, until he buried himself deep inside of you for the last time, then proceeded to shake. 

For what seemed like an eternity, the two of you lay there gasping for breath. Sylus’ grip on your leg was still ironclad, and every muscle in your body continued to quiver sharply. The clouds in your mind refused to let you focus again, still blown away at the intensity of everything you had experienced in just one day. Sylus’ cock pulsed as the last of his spend emptied into you, and you were still so unbelievably sensitive that every tiny twitch of his shaft had you jolting and shivering against him. 

Before long, Sylus gingerly slid your quivering leg off of his shoulder, taking exceptional care to set the limb down gently before he began the god-awful process of pulling out. Without him filling you up, you felt incredibly empty, and your lower half spasmed unconsciously when he finally left the warm, wet confines of your folds. 

“Fuck,” Sylus finally managed to speak, trailing his hand up your calf to tenderly ghost over the bright, purple-red blotch that he’d left on your leg. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” 

“Mmhng,” came your garbled response. The speech part of your brain was still struggling to turn back on. 

“Oh no,” Sylus drawled sarcastically, crawling closer so he could loop his arm under your back and haul you towards the headboard alongside him. “Don’t tell me I broke you, Miss Hunter. The Association will double my bounty if they find out.” 

You let Sylus manhandle you against his chest as he leaned back against the mountain of pillows, sighing softly when you felt his hand brush against your flushed cheeks. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you muttered, “I’ll make them triple it as punishment for the sarcasm.”

That earned you a chuckle from the crime lord, and he gazed down at you thoughtfully while he continued to smooth your hair out of your face. The fondness with which he stared at you was enough to bring a shy smile to your face, and you numbly wrapped your fingers around his wrist as you relished in the attention. “Ah, the tired kitten returns with her fangs bared. Triple the original price of my bounty is flattering, I’ll give you that much.” 

You hummed your agreement, doing your best to fight off the bone-deep fatigue that seemed to be sneaking up on you. Your whole body exuded an ache that felt strangely… nice. Compared to how sore you tended to get when you trained throughout the night, this was pleasant by comparison. The thought of training, however, had you thinking back to your earlier discussion with Sylus, and you pursed your lips as you contemplated whether or not to voice the burning question that reiterated itself over and over in your brain. 

“What are you thinking about that’s making you look so glum?” Sylus dexterously twirled his wrist out of your grip so he could intertwine your fingers with his again, and he pressed a warm, lingering kiss to your knuckles that made your heart swell with even more affection. “Do I need to put you in front of the mirror again?” 

“What you said earlier,” you muttered against his chest timidly. “Did you mean all of that?” 

“I would ask you which part you’re referring to, but that would be pointless since I meant everything I said tonight, kitten.” He moved your joined hands so they were held fast to his chest, directly over his heart. “I’ve always believed that it’s best to say what you mean and mean what you say. Lip service is pointless. And with you? I would never lie.” 

“So all that talk about me being a great fighter, being smart, cunning… you were telling the truth?” 

“Of course I was. Don’t forget the part about your legs,” he helpfully supplied, his red eyes narrowing with interest as they flicked down to the limbs in question. “Because they truly are incredibly perfect, sweetie.” 

You huffed out a dry laugh, lifting your conjoined hands to lightly thump against his sternum playfully. “You’re incorrigible.” 

In a flash, Sylus shifted so he was laying flat on his side with you wrapped snugly in his arms, the sudden change enough to pull a startled yelp from you. The familiar, red mist that accompanied his Evol manifested and enveloped the bed, pulling the covers over the two of you and cocooning you both in a silky haven that instantly amplified the fatigue you felt. You looked back at him from over your shoulder in time to watch as he nestled his chin into the crook of your neck, a radiant smile playing on his perfect face before he pressed a soft, sweet kiss against your lips. 

“And you’re exquisite,” he countered easily, tugging you closer against him so your back was flush to his chest. Once he had you situated how he wanted, he used his Evol to plunge the room into near darkness, the only source of light coming from the dim lanterns that flickered on his desk. “Get some sleep, kitten. Tomorrow we’ll head back out and deal with those Wanderers together. I’m eager to see you in action again.” 

As you nestled deeper into the cool pillows, you found your mind blissfully quiet and at ease. No rampant feelings of self-doubt plagued you, and the warmth from Sylus pressed up against you soothed your body and worked to lull you into a peaceful slumber. For the first time in a long time, ‘together’ actually sounded like something you could get used to. 

Especially if together meant you and Sylus.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #18

Dan Phantom had been grounded for a millennium. A million years of suspended animation, locked in the coldest prison the Infinite Realms could provide, where time dripped like sap and the echoes of his own murderous past whispered lullabies into his ears. It had been fair punishment for ripping his original timeline to pieces like confetti at a funeral. He’d deserved it. Probably. Maybe. Not really.

Regardless, he was out now.

On probation.

Which meant he couldn’t technically destroy anything major.

Which meant he technically had freedom.

Which meant—

Dan burst through the veil between dimensions with the violent grace of a dying star and made a beeline—no, a comet-line—for Asgard.

Why? Simple.

Because Loki Odinson existed.

And Dan was going to court him.

With intention.

And possibly fire.

And maybe a few stolen artifacts from the Vault of Eternity.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Odin Allfather, great and wise and absolutely exhausted, nearly choked on his mead when a 6’9” white-haired, blood-eyed menace of a man fell from a tear in reality and landed in the center of Asgard’s Golden Hall, bleeding ambient chaos and making Thor drop Mjolnir mid-rep.

“I AM DAN PHANTOM, PRINCE OF THE INFINITE REALMS!” Dan announced, fangs bared in what could be interpreted as a smile—or a declaration of war. “I HAVE COME TO COURT YOUR SON.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

A holy shit what is happening one.

“Which one?” Odin asked slowly, glancing between Thor and Loki.

Dan turned, eyes glowing with the light of a billion dead stars, and locked onto Loki like a predator sensing a god-shaped snack.

“That one,” he said, voice low and reverent, gesturing toward Loki with a clawed finger. “The dark prince. The bitter frost. The storm in the still. The god carved in hunger and ash. The one whose smile haunts the black spaces between galaxies. You.”

Loki blinked. “…I’m sorry, what?”

Thor, meanwhile, had instinctively shoved his brother behind him and picked up Mjolnir. “He’s clearly mad. A danger to Asgard!”

Dan didn’t even look at him. “I’ve fought worse things than thunder, little boy. I would pluck the sun from Sól’s chariot and offer it like an apple in your brother’s palm.”

Odin stood up. “I forbid this! I don’t know what corner of Hel you’ve crawled from, but you will not—”

“Oh, actually,” Dan interrupted, tilting his head in thought. “Hela and I are old friends. She braided my hair once and taught me how to decapitate a frost giant using only a jawbone.”

In the bleak frost of Hel, Hela laughed so hard she cracked a rib. Her skeletal horde stared at her with a mix of reverence and terror as she shouted, “My brother-in-arms is finally out of time jail! Get me a death-swan, I need to pick a dress. I’m gonna be the best-damned best woman this side of Ragnarok.”

Back in Asgard, Loki had been dragged to a secluded room by Frigga who kept whispering things like “He’s clearly unstable” and “You attract danger like a frostflower attracts flies.”

But Loki was not listening.

Because Loki was already halfway in love.

He was a connoisseur of madness and beauty, of poetry stitched in blood, of things ancient and unfathomable. He saw Dan Phantom’s sharpened fangs and glowing eyes and heard the way he whispered promises of devotion that sounded like death threats.

And he felt something.

Dan knelt in Loki’s chamber, holding a gift in outstretched hands.

“This is the heart of a fallen titan,” Dan said solemnly. “I carved it from his chest after he insulted your intellect.”

It was still beating.

Loki took it and blushed.

“…You’re insane,” he whispered.

Dan leaned closer. “I have watched a thousand dying universes collapse, and in each one, I saw your reflection in the shattered light. I have dreamt of you while floating through collapsed stars. I would slit the throat of time itself for the curl of your smile.”

Frigga burst into the room. “Loki, don’t encourage him!”

But Loki was already petting the heart like a kitten and looking at Dan like he hung the stars in the sky personally.

“I think I might love him,” Loki whispered.

“Oh no,” Frigga said.

Three weeks in, the betting pool had gone viral in the Infinite Realms.

Danny bet Loki would stab Dan by day five.

Jazz bet they’d elope in less than a month.

Dani bet both. Simultaneously.

Clockwork refused to comment.

Dan brought gifts every day.

A Valkyrie’s wing, still twitching.

A singing skull that whispered Loki’s name in every language known to god and ghost.

A crystal vial of Odin’s tears (he didn’t explain how he got them, just that he did, and Odin now had anxiety).

A necklace forged from the melted-down bones of a time-wyrm, engraved with love poetry in the lost language of the Void.

“Your gifts are… unsettling,” Loki said, holding up the skull as it crooned a lullaby in Abyssal.

“They’re tokens of devotion,” Dan replied. “I would make war with the gods for you—not for justice, not for vengeance, but for worship.”

Loki melted on the spot.

Odin cornered Loki one evening. “You must stop this.”

“But father, I love him!”

“He brought you a bouquet of spinal cords, Loki!”

“They were beautifully arranged!”

Eventually, Dan seduced Loki in the way that only an interdimensional menace with apocalyptic charm could. The kind of night that left the Bifröst cracked, Thor traumatized, and half of Asgard whispering in awe and fear.

Loki didn’t walk the next day. He floated.

Odin cried in private.

The wedding was held in Hel. Of course it was.

Hela presided in a gown made of grief and velvet, surrounded by undead musicians and skeletal bridesmaids.

“I now pronounce you harbingers of doom,” Hela intoned with a grin. “You may now kiss your ruin.”

Dan did so with gusto.

Odin fainted.

Thor refused to speak for three weeks.

Frigga gave up and drank with Jazz, who won the betting pool.

Danny and Dani got into a fistfight over who gave the better toast.

On their wedding night, Dan carved a poem into the sky using a blade of starlight and sorrow. It read:

“Let the worlds tremble and the stars scream. You are mine. My ruin, my resurrection. My frost in the flame. My apocalypse wrapped in silk and venom. I have no name but yours, and no destiny but your hand in mine. Until the gods are dust.”

Loki wept.

Then kissed him breathless.

Then demanded they destroy a few realms for fun.

Dan beamed.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[pwettybbybunny]

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 (Yandere! Sunday x Reader)

Gn! Reader (sub/bottom reader)

Desperate Pining series - Sunday edition

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

CW: power play, sexual guilt, desperation, mind fuck, mind break, yandere doing yandere stuff, sunday being sunday, conditioning, sunday molding reader

Play the song for best experience

You had made many mistakes in your life, joining the Iris family, your career choice, but none could compare to falling for Sunday, the Oak family's head, daring to pine for him romantically, while all you were a mere performer, hell, not even an innocent singer or actor, you were a host/hostess in a nightclub, a glorified whore.

You could never forget the day you saw the angel, in the club during your shift, as he entertained some family's guests.

The way he walked, talked, moved, breathed, it cause your brain wiring to fuse in mere seconds. He was holy, divine, just a mere look at him, caused your heartbeat to palpate an unhealthy amount.

And Xipe, in all their glory, gazed your way they day, as you were picked to serve his table, god, his melodious voice left you all tingly, breath heavy.

The way he looked at you with such softness, his pretty smile, making you to whimper unconsciously, your thighs rubbing together in your tiny little bunny suit, your pussy wet / cock already dripping pre cum.

So you found yourself moaning and inside a restroom stall, one hand inside your underwear, other in your mouth, to prevent any noise to escape, albeit you were doing a terrible job in it.

Your vision started swirlling around, purple curvy borders around you, as if you're looking at a screen, your mind entirely consumed by thoughts about Sunday, till the second you orgasmed.

It felt, dirty, dirtier than you were used to feeling, as you knelt on the bathroom floor, panting, heart heavy, longing, your body jittery and mind confused at your actions. But most importantly guilt, guilt for lewding someone so holy, a guilt akin to felt when sinning, yet, double as tempting to repeat.

And all those feeling increased exponentially, as you got out the stall, only for your eyes to meet those golden ones through the reflection in the mirror.

"You make such cute noises, there's no need to hold them back," he said, as he turned around and stepped closer to you, your heartbeats resonating with his footsteps, only for your brain to stop working as he took your hand and kissed the area you had bit earlier, staring deep in your eyes.

From that moment on, you memories remains a blur, the kisses, the touch, the luxury hotel room which you could'nt have ever afford, and the tears.

And God, did that strange guilt scare you off, you don't really remember it yourself how you physically jolted at the thought of him penetrating you, daring to refuse the leader of Penacony, making him settle for a sloppy blow job and a thigh fuck, you barely even touching him, making him do all the work.

Yet, the man was gracious enough to let you stay over in the room for the night, blessing you with the opportunity to wake up next to him.

"Won't you pay me back for this opportunity, little sheep?" He asked you, caressing your cheeks gently, his touch akin to a whisper, light, sight, barely there, reminding you how you dared to reject his affection last night.

So you stayed, helping him get ready, buttoning his shirt for him, as he read some texts on his phone, tying his tie, the way he liked, getting him some coffee and breakfast from the breakfast buffet in lounge, because he's too prestigious to mix in common folk, all while he scrutinized you whenever you didn't do the tasks the exact way he liked.

And the second he left the room, you felt hollow, as if your heart had a gaping hole in between as if he took away a part of your soul with him. So imagine the unfathomable amount of joy you felt when Sunday kept frequenting the club more and more, always picking you to serve his table, giving you that kind look, praising you, doing everything in your power to please him, putting extra effort in everything.

All that, only for your heart to break when you heard the whispers about Sunday starting to indulge in some of your co-workers in bed.

Cause, after all, your sin wasn't craving the angel's attention, but to even think you could ever deserve it.

Your weeks your brain stuck on the thought, if the Sunday will come back in club the next day, if he will ask you to serve or not, or will he ask your co-workers, the one who get to lay with him at night. Will he get disgusted by you soon, get tired of pathetic little you.

But till then, those few hours serving were enough, despite the pain and longing, you were willing to suffer if it meant keeping that damn smile in your life.

All such thoughts spiralling in your head 24/7, causing you to get anxious randomly, to the point, your friends started worrying about you. As your self esteem started dwindled down, day by day, as you kept comparing yourself with him.

So it was a shocker when one day the man showed up near the cramped dingy alleyways you live in, greeting you with the same sweet smile, as the first day, you saw him.

You humored the man for some while, best to your capabilities as your breath started to get heavier and heavier in his presence, only able to look at him with a longing gaze, his words flying over your head, till you both stood in silence for a while, your brain to gushy to realize.

"You know, little lamb, you really need to learn some from Sydney," he said, pulling you out of your daydream, gently brushing your cheek with two fingers, then using them to slap your cheeks lightly.

You winced at the name of your co-worker, the one labeled as 'Sunday's favorite',

"I-"

"Invite me to your apartment," he instructed, cutting you off "It's only polite to continue our conversation, inside, right?"

So there you were in your tiny, cramped, studio apartment, he thought of your living condition to be proud, that much was visible on his face, as you brewed him some tea, the most expensive one you had, which was probably too cheap for Sunday's taste, while he chewed your head off on speaking about random things.

But mostly instructing you how to do things properly, like pouring him tea, how to serve him, how to sit properly, and so on. Which you followed diligently, of course, Mr. Sunday, is a kind soul, teaching someone like you, how to behave.

"(Y/n), replace your black net stockings with white ones" he instructed, referencing to your work uniform, before leaving.

So you did, the next day serving him, like a "good boy/girl" those words causing your face to flush, redder than a tomato.

And you got rewarded alright, as he lead you to the same hotel room, from your first night. This time the experience was more sweeter, gentler, yet you still had a break down at the thought of getting penetrated by him.

Heart pounding hard, you got a full-on panic attack this time, getting coddled by Sunday, as he has you sit on his lap, facing him, his dick rubbing against your pretty hole, as he cooed on you, his one hand patting your back, while caressed your face.

"Darling, you had no problem, jumping on Hudson's dick, what's wrong with me?" he asked, out of nowhere, as his hand now grabbed the behind the back of your neck, causing you to whimper.

"W-who?"

"Ah, so you don't remember your clients, huh? How sweet of you, to happily lay with someone whose name you can't recall, over the man, who's been kind enough to hide you in your stupid mistakes"

He sighed, hitting your cheeks with two of his fingers.

"Tell me, my little lamb, what do you think, when you see me?" He asked, his lips laying on your Adam's apple.

"P-preety" you whispered out.

"That so, doll?" he took whispered, taking your hands, and putting it on his face, "if you think, i'm preety lay your hands on me," Sunday said, as you looked in your eyes, an desperate expression in his gold eyes.

To be continued ~

Have you longed for someone so much so, you start feeling disgusting?

Can't you tell I'm desperate? Can't you tell I'm cheap? You don't gotta love me, we don't have to speak I'll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave I'll see you when I see you You Were a Dream - Artemas

(Excuse me if this was bad, It's my first fic and I'm suffering for horrible period cramps )

[umathurwin]

i know that you're doin' it all for me

rafe cameron x reader; nsfw 18+

Summary: Rafe loves his girl, and he’ll beat the ass of anyone who dares to treat her poorly—much to her dismay. He’s gonna do it anyways.

tags, warnings, and more on ao3!

Absolutely nothing feels better than listening to L$D by A$AP Rocky when you’re pretty fucked up and being driven home.

I’d rolled my sleeves up to my elbows and leaned my seat back, just enough that the A/C still hit my face. I only bought this car a few months ago, so the leather scent is still crisp hitting my nostrils. A prayer was sent to my past self for not taking that last tequila shot Kelce kept shoving under my nose back at the bar; I can tell that if I had, I’d be painting the inside of the passenger seat floor. It’s not even that getting a detail wouldn’t be worth it, I just don’t want this baby out of commission for even a day.

My eyes fell shut for a moment as the music switched to Tiimmy Turner. Not my favorite—I’m picky when it comes to throwbacks—but it’s a solid rule that I sacrifice aux when I’m not driving. I’m nothing if not a fair man.

I glanced over at my chauffer. She was unfathomably gorgeous tonight, resting her elbow on the window and nibbling at her thumb. Everything about her was so enticing, right down to her thighs, exposed by her short black dress riding up as she drove. I could feel my fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and grip at the flesh, to dive my hands close to the apex. It was so hard to keep my hands off her someti—

“We’re never gonna be allowed back there,” Y/N noted wistfully, pulling me out of my trance.

My nose started stinging right on cue. Oh, right. That’s why she was driving us home, and also why we’d already left in the first place. I chortled, dabbing at my nostril and pulling back a bloody fingertip. “No one bans a Cameron from anywhere, sweetheart.” I took out my handkerchief to wipe away the remains of the liquid dripping from my nose.

She sniffled. “Well, your dad is gonna be mad when he finds out what happened,” Y/N pointed out wisely and I glanced out the window. We were almost home, but I could feel she was taking her time to get as much out of the conversation as possible.

“I don’t give a fuck what he thinks,” I shrugged. “And you shouldn’t either.”

Her free hand went to the wheel where she flexed all her fingers. “Why do you always start this shit?”

I was glad she couldn’t see my involuntary smirk. “M’sorry, baby. You know how I get when I drink tequila.”

“Then we’re sending you to rehab,” Y/N deadpanned, braking at a stop sign a little more aggressively than necessary.

My eyes flew to the back of my head and I tugged the seatbelt out of where it had dug into my neck. “You know I couldn’t let him treat you like that,” I huffed. Honestly, I don’t even see where I went wrong.

***

My eyes were in slits the second I realized what was going on—which didn’t take long, since I’ve always kept an eye on her whenever I can. Weston, some jackass who’d gone to the only other private school in Figure Eight, was trying to get past Y/N by taking his sweet time and placing a hand on either side of her waist. It had only been a minute that I stepped away to get her a glass of water from the bar when I returned to this.

I didn’t even react before she recoiled. “Ew, don’t touch me like that.” Y/N wormed away from him, making my mouth tug up a little. Good, loyal girl of mine.

My joy did not last long. Weston reached out to grip her elbow and lightly tugged her back towards him with a smirk. I stepped between them, slamming the water glass down so hard it splashed on the counter. “S’enough of that, Wes.”

His lip curled into a sneer, looking me up and down and remembering who I am. “You? Since when are you a little White Knight? Mind your own.”

Red filled my vision. If I hadn’t been drinking all night, I would’ve growled out a “this is my own”. That wasn’t the case, so I simply connected my fist to his jaw. It’s usually a one-hit K.O., but Weston was tougher than I’d expected.

Look. I won’t lie. He got back up and had one good swing in on my nose. If Y/N wasn’t crying out before, she was now. The next few moments are a blur as I go a little, y’know, ape shit on his face until he’s on the bar floor and I’m still delivering blows.

The only thing that pulled me away was Y/N yanking at my arm to get me back to standing. “Goddamnit, Rafe!” she snapped.

Weston sat up on his elbows and turned his face to the side to spit out a mixture of blood and saliva to keep it from getting on his shirt. I guess he didn’t see the red splatters from my beatings on his chest yet. “Wait, you two know each other?!” he asked, words mangled by his swelling mouth.

“Shut up, Weston,” Y/N and I said at the same time.

A hand slammed on my shoulder and I didn’t have to look to know it was a bouncer. For one, because it felt like a baseball mitt, and two, because Weston himself was being dragged up to his feet by another bouncer, likely to be escorted out with me. In fact, the only person who wasn’t manhandled out was Y/N, who was permitted to walk out elegantly holding only her bag and the half-spilled water I’d brought her. Not much after that is clear other than Y/N ordering me to get in the passenger seat.

***

When my eyes fell to my lap, I saw dried blood flaking off my knuckles. Damn. Not wanting to think about the fight anymore, I reached into the center console and pulled out the cigarettes I rarely used, popping one between my lips. I cupped one hand around the white end and lit the stick.

She deserved a better answer. “I’ll fight every bastard in this town that doesn’t treat you well,” I muttered. The smoke slipped out of my mouth, and I could tell she wasn’t a fan, so I cracked the window. “And the ones that treat you too well,” I tacked on, watching the curls of smoke get sucked out of the gap.

Y/N sulked in the seat, hands falling from 10 and 2 to the bottom of the wheel. “Rafe, please.”

Even I felt a bit guilty. “What can I do to make you feel better, baby?” I take another rich drag from the cigarette.

“Stop fighting.” I snorted before I could stop myself. “I’m serious, Rafe. I’ll threaten you if I have to.”

My eyebrow shot up. “Threaten? You’re not very intimidating, sweetheart.”

I could see her knuckles clench on the steering wheel. “I won’t have sex with you for a week.”

This time it wasn’t a snort—it was a full-blown incredulous laugh. “Oh, right, right. You’re gonna tell me we won’t have sex for a week. Remember the last time you threatened that?” She did, judging by the way she adjusted herself. “You only lasted, what, a day and a half? You were so desperate I had to fuck you bent over a dishwasher.”

She didn’t respond at first. “It was a washing machine, actually.”

“Exactly,” I conclude, reaching up to ash the stick out the window.

Y/N was silent as she parked the vehicle in our long driveway. She left me in the car with the cigarette still burning in my hand. I licked my fingers and pinched the smoking end, climbing outside and lazily flicking it in the bushes. The gardener will get it.

By the time I caught up to her at the front door, she’d already dug her key into the lock and kicked her heels off, leaving me again in the foyer. “Baby, please,” I called after her.

“What, Rafe?” she responded, not turning back but dropping her clutch and phone on the valet table.

Now that she was taking a moment not moving away from me, I took her arm and twisted her body around to face me. With her body pinned between me and the edge of the table, I took a good look at her. Her gaze wouldn’t meet with me, but a quick glance downwards revealed she was visibly leaning into my body.

“Don’t run away from me, doll,” I shook my head. “If you’re upset with me, talk to me about it. Never hide from me.” I dropped down to kiss just below her ear.

She nodded slowly, and I could feel goosebumps erupt down her arms. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. I hate watching you fight.” Y/N’s hands finally reconnected with me, around my waist and up my back.

I hummed into her neck. “You’re not gonna see me hurt,” I reassured her before pressing my lips against her, hard. Our breaths mixed and our tongues danced until she was humming and pushing me off to stop. “S’wrong, baby?” I mumbled.

“You’re bleeding again.” I pulled away to get a look at her face, and sure enough, there was a red smudge just under her nose. My jaw hung slack as her hand slipped up to wipe away at the blood before dipping her fingers between her lips, cleaning off digits with her tongue.

“Christ, pet, I’m gonna wreck you.” I kissed her again, repainting her face with my blood.

Ignoring the pain in my nose was easy with the fucking noises she was making. Without separating from her, I guided us to the living room and sat her on the largest couch with the fewest pillows—I hated Rose’s style.

When I finally pulled away, she looked a mess. She was flushed, with swollen lips and dress straps slipping off her shoulders. I unzipped her and pulled the garment over her head—I knew she would have my head if I took it off roughly. She was only left in panties.

“You weren’t wearing a bra?” I asked, kissing her again.

“Dress was too skimpy,” she muttered against my mouth.

I’ll say danced on the tip of my tongue, but it stayed there in fear of upsetting her. Tonight wasn’t her fault by any means, and it’s not like I didn’t enjoy seeing her in those little black pieces.

My arms looped under her legs as I dropped down to my knees in front of the couch. I tugged her underwear off her legs before attaching my mouth to her cunt.

Her response was immediate, back arching and head dropping to the pillows behind her. She must not have been eaten by anyone before me, because no matter how many hours straight I spend between her thighs, she acts like it’s the first time anyone’s ever done it. Her fingers thread through my hair and push me down further and by all means, I let her. When we’re in this position, I’ll let her grind on my face and use me in any way she wants. Every spot I leave a smear of blood, I clean it right up, savoring the metallic tang mixing with her sweetness.

I started sucking on her clit directly, and it was almost too much for her. She tried pulling away, but I only softened my tongue movements and held her tighter. When she came, it was loud and echoing in the marble interior of this goddamn home and I thanked God we were home alone.

The only chance she got to recuperate was the time I spent unzipping my pants to pull out my cock and adjusting her on the couch. I turned her a bit sideways so we could both be on the cushions at once.

Slipping my cock in was too easy with how slick she was. Once I was fully sheathed inside her, I dropped down to kiss her again, silencing the gasps and moans that were pouring from her mouth.

Once I’d gotten into a rhythm of bottoming out and nearly entirely withdrawing, I took a good look at her again. Her hand was reaching back up behind her to grip the arm of the couch, probably to keep me from fucking her into the upholstery. Her tits bounced with every thrust, and her eyes were damn near rolling into the back of her head. I couldn’t just enjoy this view for myself.

“Wanna see the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life?” I asked, burying deep and holding there.

She blinked, focusing on my voice. Y/N’s eyes batted up at me innocently and she nodded without a word.

I scooped my arms underneath her, not pulling myself out of her until I’d carried her over to the large crystal mirror on our wall. I only stopped fucking her to spin her around—I slipped my cock back in her the second she was stable on her feet.

My fingers reached up to tangle through her hair, yanking it so that she had no choice but to watch herself get filled by me. I’d clearly started bleeding again during sex, since the blood stains were back with full force on both of our upper lips—only on opposite sides. I think my favorite part of the picture was her nudity and my lack—I’d only undone a few buttons on my shirt, and she was completely nude. All exposed, just for me.

“That,” I breathed. “Your face, streaked with my blood, twisted in pleasure by my bidding. If I could see you like this all the time, I would. I’d be inside you nonstop.”

She was clenching around me, and filthy words just poured from my mouth. “You think you could go a week without this? Without my cock filling this little hole? Not a chance,” I purred, meeting my thighs with the back of hers on that last sentence. “Fuck, such a good girl, no wonder everyone wants to look at you. They wanna know how it feels to stretch you out and make you shake. But only I get to know.”

“Cum inside me,” she blurted, hands dropping to the decorative table below her.

Oh, that was a treat. Y/N hated how it felt dripping out of her, so most of the time I got to paint some area of her body or another. But when she gave the green light on the few occasions that she did, I took it.

With my view and the permission to mark my girl from the inside, it was no surprise that I didn’t last long at all. The last thrust inside her must’ve been too deep, because she cried out just broken enough to not be pleasure-derived. I think an apology slipped out in my orgasm-babbling.

Things were very quiet as we cleaned up, gathering our clothes and heading to my bedroom without exchanging a word. She tried to run away and jump into bed, but I shook my head and pointed towards the bathroom. Y/N rolled her eyes at me but complied anyways. After she was done, I slipped in the restroom to finally care for my bloody nose, which appears to have been steadily leaking since the car ride.

The sight of the bloody tissues in the bin really cemented why she was so upset tonight. If I were in her shoes, and someone put a hand on her, I would likely end up going to jail that night. But she isn’t the fighter that I am, and I can see how that’s hard for her.

Joining her in the room, I found her buried under our linens. When she heard me, she turned around and reached one arm out as if to welcome me to the bed with her. I grinned stupidly, dropping down and pulling her into my chest.

God, I was so immensely lucky to have such a forgiving and understanding girl. We could still be fighting, but we’re not. Our limbs are entangled in the silk sheets just cool enough to allow the heat of touching, and I can feel her nosing in on my exposed chest. I love her so—

“Rafe?” Y/N whispered, just barely loud enough for me to make out over the hum of the A/C.

“Yeah, baby?”

“If we ever see Weston again,” she flipped around in my arms to spoon me, “you can beat his ass.”

[sttoru]

“BILLS, BILLS, BILLS.”

༄ sypnosis. toji had gotten paid from a recent job he finished and decided that the best way to count the money he earned, was by having you ride him in the meantime.

༄ note. recent jjk episode made me a bit more crazy about this man than i already was… so uhm, yeah.. not re-read.

༄ tags. toji x reader. dom!toji, sub!reader. female reader. degradation, dumbification, implied creampies, unprotected sex, calls you names such as ‘doll, little girl, pretty (thing), slut’, spanking, toji’s an ass. fic goes straight into it. mdni.

“whadd’ya say, doll?” toji hums absentmindedly, one hand on your hip and the other counting the money he got from a recent job.

“c-can’t— please.” your limbs were on the verge of giving out after riding him for almost two hours.

toji hasn’t even looked up at you once; his eyes were focused on his hard earned money. that’s all he cared about.

oh, and you looking all pretty while bouncing up and down on his cock of course.

“mm, that so?” toji murmurs with a grin, absolutely unfazed by your suffering, “y’know what happens if you stop.”

you did and you learned that the hard way. toji knows no mercy when it comes to punishing you— he’d call you dirty names, pound you so hard you won’t be able to walk properly and spank you to the point that you’ll be crying and begging for him to stop.

the only thing you could do in that moment was to gather all of your left over strength and continue to move your hips up and down his length.

“what’d ya say we get you a pretty dress with this?” toji asks as he waves a stack of money back and forth in front of your face; clearly taunting you.

you couldn’t even answer him anymore. your movements were getting sloppy and slow as you tried to hold yourself back from reaching your umpteenth orgasm.

“haah, mmh,” babbles. helpless babbles and whimpers were his answer.

toji clicks his tongue, creating a small disapproving ‘tsk’ sound, “use your words f’me, little girl.”

his big, rough hand slithers up your skin, from your waist to your breasts. toji puts one of your nipples between his index and middle finger before squeezing and pulling on the sensitive bud.

“c’mon. let me hear that whiny, pathetic voice of yours.”

a shiver runs down your spine the moment you felt toji pull at your nipple. your sweaty palms clung onto his chest as you tried to steady yourself on his throbbing cock.

“m’sorry..” you mumble between ragged breaths, trying not to focus on how well the way his tip was hitting your deepest parts, “i wan- wan’t.. dress.”

toji chuckles and shakes his head with a deep sigh once he hears you; you couldn’t even talk properly, “what a poor thing. fucked yourself dumb on my cock, huh?”

he pats the stack of bills against your tear-stained cheek while you continue to repeatedly push his length inside of your sweet, dripping pussy.

“poor, poor thing,” toji repeats in a low purr, his eyes roaming all over your sweaty body.

the sight of you being worn out from riding him, your slick staining his cock and his cum oozing out of your spent pussy with each thrust— it made him unfathomably hard.

his absent gaze lingers on your cunt and the way it swallows his dick all the way to the base over and over again. it was an hypnotising sight, that’s for sure.

“keep that up for another ten minutes, ‘kay?” toji grabs a different stack of bills and quickly counts the amount. his attention was once again averted from you.

your hips slowed their movements and your legs were trembling uncontrollably. your mouth was slightly agape and your own saliva dripped down the corners. you couldn’t take it any longer. not even for ten more minutes.

“t- toji, please,” you breathe out. that’s all you could utter as you grew slower and sloppier.

“mhm. i know.” toji coos with an understanding nod, though still not sparing you a glance as his fingers skilfully move over the money.

the dark haired man notices you slacking off more and more to the point that you’d almost stop all together. toji wasted no time and roughly smacked the flesh of your ass in response to that.

“that didn’t mean you could slow down, slut.”

toji’s eyes were still solely focused on his money and the expression on his face stayed the same, though the thing that changed in that split second was the cold tone of voice he used.

it always caught you off guard how fast he could go from a mocking, sweet tone to a straight up harsh and dominant one.

“sorry,” your hands were trembling as you tried to hold onto toji in any way you could.

you picked up your pace again— the repeated and loud sounds of skin to skin contact filled both of your ears.

you wanted to say so much more; to beg toji to give you permission to stop, to tell him that you couldn’t anymore, however it was like your body was under a trance. you just couldn’t stop chasing that addictive pleasure.

toji knew what kind of effect he has on you and that’s why he loves it when he can see you struggle to keep up with your own desires.

the way the needs of your body and mind clash and cause you to look like a mess who doesn’t know what she wants. you looked helpless; it was entertaining.

“you really should stop using that little brain of yours, doll.”

toji says, tone back to his usual mocking and condescending one, “a pretty thing like you should only focus on the cock that’s inside of her tight cunt.”

“tha’s all ya need to do.”

toji tosses the stack of money to the side once he finished counting it, only to grab a new one.

“twenty million yen.” he mutters under his breath, hissing a little after he felt you tighten up around him.

if toji wasn’t so determined to finish counting his money first, he’d have flipped you over on all fours and fucked you senseless for doing that.

your glassy eyes wandered to all the money spread out on the mattress— on the right side were the paper bills that toji had counted and on the left were the ones he still needed to go through.

it looked like both sides were equally filled, which was bad news for you since toji’d told you earlier that he’d only let you stop once he finishes counting every single bill.

toji smirked as he noticed you looking at the piles of money. he knew exactly what you were thinking of.

he leaned his face forward, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair as his breath hit the skin of your ear. you could almost hear the big grin on his face as he teases you once again in a quiet whisper:

“don’t worry; there’s just fifteen million yen left to go, pretty.”

REBLOGS / COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[kcrabb88]

This is just a small drabble contribution for @barricadeday! I couldn't let it pass by without writing something <3

Enjolras dreams of blood.  

The crack of a flintlock pistol goes off in his ear with an explosion of billowing white smoke. The projectile inside strikes a paint smear of a national guardsman. Enjolras’ head throbs as he makes his way toward ... toward ....  

Where is he going?  

He slips through scarlet on broken paving stones and goes crashing inelegantly to the ground. The bang of his back echoes. His spine cracks like the flintlock. Looking for someone. He’s looking for .... 

Screams ricochet like bullets. Up ahead of him, soldiers burst through a barricade. They seize him. They force his hands in front of him. They shackle him. They call him a foolish radical. One takes his hair by the root and pulls when he bites back a radical today, a man of the future tomorrow.  

The scent of copper stings his nose. That blood from before sloshes over his boots. It runs like a river of dead men’s sacrifices and soaks the ground. Enough enough enough when will it be— 

Enjolras jolts up in bed when a late-night fiacre drives by outside his open window, and the wheels rattle over a patch of uneven ground. The dream sits prophetic beneath his ribs, and yet is nothing like what he experienced during the so-called Three Glorious Days two years previous. No, it harkens back back back to ninety-three. Before that. He wasn’t alive for the Revolution, and yet it bore him regardless. It built the bones of him. Things went right and things went wrong, and paranoia infected the best of men with a virus that won the day and let those who had nothing of the right stuff in their hearts grab hold of the future. Unfathomable progress and unfathomable blood. How to achieve the progress without the blood, he does not yet know. No one does, except, perhaps, Combeferre, who lives in the far reaches of the future Enjolras dreams of and yet sets himself here in their present. 

Tossing his covers off, Enjolras reaches for the glass of water he left by his bedside. The lukewarm liquid eases his dry throat. Death tomorrow is a risk—not a certainty. Nerves get the best of everyone sometimes, and he’s been prone to strange dreams since he was a child. Why didn’t he stay with Combeferre or Courfeyrac this evening? They were already at the Corinthe late. He had some reason that he cannot recall now.  

Walk. Perhaps a walk will soothe him and get him back to sleep. He needs at least a handful of hours before the funeral tomorrow.  

Getting into some clothes without the fanfare of making them neat, Enjolras steps out into the quiet street. Stars stitch silver into the thick-melt sky above him that seems to drip onto the roofs of the buildings under this much darkness. He walks along without a direction in mind and sticks his hands inside his pockets. The heavy air says that it will be hot tomorrow, but tonight, an out-of-place breeze blows. Odd.  

Paris dozes rather than sleeps. The city waits for the rumors of rebellion to come to fruition tomorrow, and so, a deep slumber does not come. Power and disease have scarred Enjolras’ beloved home that he left his childhood house for when he was not yet eighteen. His parents, wealthy and fairly progressive for their class, did not understand his urgency. But he writes them, when he can. They worry. He tells them not to. They don’t like Paris, and he loves it.  

People are dying there, they wrote about a month ago. You ought to come home.  

He didn’t.  

He went with Combeferre instead, to a hospital ward full of people with cholera, and Combeferre said I don’t think this is spreading the way they think. It’s not a miasma. Some doctors wonder about the water. And I admit, I’m starting to.  

They both came home healthy.  

Enjolras drops coins into the hat of a beggar. He smiles when three gamin run by laughing. They don’t care if it’s midnight or not. They keep to their own schedule, find their own joy, because society doesn’t want them. Images come to him as he watches them go. Feuilly, once like these boys himself, opening a small school. Teaching in the light of a better world.  

Whatever blood he dreamt of, Enjolras will fight for that world whether he lives to see it or not.  

Love, the future is thine.  

The words glimmer gilded in his mind’s eye. 

Love, the future is thine.  

That’s what he’ll carry with him in his dirtied hands whatever comes next. 

And he’ll keep dirtying those hands until, perhaps, the generation after won’t have to.  

He wanders through the city that kings have laid claim to but will never own. His mind wanders with him, and memories appear here and there and this way and that. Traipsing across Paris has taught him her secrets.  

He finds himself, after a while, in front of a familiar door.  

In the dream, he was searching for something. Someone.  

A figure with a well-made hat appears in the darkness with his cat’s grin and sparkling green eyes.  

“Great minds,” Courfeyrac says with a yawn. “Do you suppose Combeferre is asleep?”  

“No. I think maybe he’s waiting for us.”  

Courfeyrac slips his arm through Enjolras’ as they climb up the rickety stairs to the third floor.  

Combeferre’s door sits unlocked. That could be because he forgot, but when they find him in his sitting room with three cups of steaming tea waiting, Enjolras knows it wasn’t. He and Courfeyrac hang their jackets on the hook, and all three of them speak of strange dreams when they sit down to drink.  

Despite those strange dreams, Enjolras’ whirring mind settles down. The tea soothes his aching throat. Did he cry out in that dream? He must have.  

Love, the future is thine. 

They rest, all three of them, in Combeferre’s small bed.  

And Enjolras sleeps soundly.  

[matchadobo]

Hope you're having a good one matcha!

Okay listen, the mafia one on modern part but they met in prison because Y/N is Kid's personal nurse because someone so notorious and big and scary like him can't be admitted with the other inmates rightttt

Soooo was thinking that he'll break out with her andddd it starts from there 😍 dark romance?? Hehehe ❤️‍🔥

KIDD; mafia

🌷matchadobo's 500 followers event🌷

dialogue: "i told you not to get close to me."

wc: 3971

warning/s: fem!reader, prisoner!kidd x nurse!reader, sfw (though kidd is cheeky and handsy fufufufu), fluff??, get together, idk if this is dark romance enough omg, nothing really crazy hereee hehehe

the most notorious gang of the south blue was the kidd pirates. their name strikes fear in the hearts of many. the crimes they commit are unfathomable to the ordinary. and in the middle of it all stands eustass kidd. the man who carries despair on his wake as he leaves his mark on every act he does yet he remain untouchable.

until he finally got met with a criminal greater than his caliber and the cops had luckily got to him. luckily. if it weren't for the injuries he sustained, the mafia leader would've ran away on the loose.

now settled on the farthest cell of the south blue penitentiary, his restless and bleeding state as he waited for the professional assigned to him. because no one is strong enough to handle the monster that he is. to even care for a damn criminal terrorizing their country.

not for you though, this was big money to you; now that this person is a special subject. the idea of him being a criminal is nothing compared to the digits you'll be earning for just one treatment with him. imagine the accumulation of that. after all, you've been in the healthcare industry for a long while, nothing can faze you.

except that when he's finally a few feet away from you and there was no one aside from you and him and the two guards that he could easily knock out even with cuffs, you felt your throat run dry.

"ah, i got a bonnie this time?" his voice was deep, befitting of a hulking, seven foot man like him. he said it with much interest, a grin on his lips as he eyed you from the doorway.

you took a good look at him from afar. his body littered with tattoos, representing the battles he won. his hair was in a shade of red as fiery as his demeanor. he still exudes power in him despite being injured and having restraints.

he looks like shit though. so beaten up, no wonder the authorities got to him. he had a massive scar spanning the side of his face with blood dripping down from his head, the emergency gauze in his face had already been coated with his blood. it cascaded down his chest up until his brachium. you sauntered to him and assessed his injuries.

"fucked up my tattoos, no?" he looked at his arm, still coated with dried blood.

"hardly." you forced a smile. "it's already fucked up."

kidd chuckled dryly. "hah. they sent an interesting one this time, aye? thought nurses are nice to their patients."

"nice patients get nice nurses. do you think it applies to you?" you sharply retorted. "come closer." you gestured for him to do so and the shuffling of the chains resounded in the cemented room.

you start by taking off the gauze in his facd, circling your arms on the sides of his head to remove it from behind. he got a good whiff of your perfume, smirking afterward as he closely examined how you look like.

"what's with the snickering?" you broke out, continuing your work without looking at him.

"nothin' really. don't mind me, bonnie." he continued to muse at you, as if memorizing how you look. "name, huh?" he read your nameplate pinned on the shirt one side of your chest.

you hummed in response. you revealed his nasty scar, his other eye with its bright yellows now finally looking at you. you grabbed a damp cloth and dipped it in antiseptic. "this'll sting really bad, okay?" you warned him, hovering the cloth above his massive wound.

he chuckled, smile growing at each of your exchanges. "you do know who your patient is, aye?"

"trust me, even a mass of destruction like you would fold from the pain." your face softened, as if teasing him before finally placing the cloth above his wound.

you could see him doing everything in his power to not move a muscle but you can see how much his jaw was clenching, his fists balled up as you press deeper on his fresh wounds. you let out a giggle, mumbling an 'i told you so'.

"still gonna be you tomorrow?" he broke out as you started packing up your stuff after finalizing his chart.

"why? are you going to miss me?" you said as a joke because you get the feeling he'd hate your guts, but what he said did something to your heart. illegally.

"suppose i will." he smiled meekly, dandelion orbs reflecting his anticipation. "careful on your way out, bonnie. don't want ya gone before tomorrow." he said as a goodbye but sounded more of a threat.

you couldn't get him out of your head that night. i mean, your search history has his name all over it. his origin, his crimes, his stories, what the news says about him, who he is—it was almost a crime knowing everything about it at this point.

so when you came back the next day and he was seemingly anticipating your arrival, you can't help but ask about him.

"how did a man of your caliber got caught?" you broke out when you were a few inches away from his face, nursing his wounds as it looked slightly better than yesterday.

"oh? did you look me up when you got home yesterday?" he grinned, eyes boring through you as he observed the adorable blushing of your cheeks. you gradually chewed on your bottom lip from his gaze. "how about it? you in awe, bonnie?"

you just snorted, fighting off the smile in your lips as you fetched him another cloth for his arms. you should really be ashamed, having fun with this criminal.

"no no, disappointed maybe."

kidd's eyes darkened. but you were doing it on purpose, rid him of that arrogance that he has over you.

"you're tryna piss me off or what?" his tone got a bit lower but you remain unfazed, even grabbing his arm and pulling him closer so you would have an easier time nursing his wounds.

"is it working?" you patted on his wound a little too hard and he winced. even the guards got a little freaked out but you felt too bold.

"are other nurses this fuckin' annoyin' or i got the short end of the stick?"

you broke into a smile, a laugh escaping your nose. "you can get a new one if you don't like me anymore, i can place a request for you." your voice was soft because you were pretty close to his face.

"don't you dare." he reached for your wrist but was restrained by the cuffs. the guards nagged him for it but he flipped them off. "been a while since things got interesting as hell. you're at fault for it."

"so i amuse you?"

"aye. don't get too close to me though. you're well aware of that."

"that won't be a problem, don't worry. i'm out of your tail once you're all better, eustass."

but it is a problem, it's starting to atleast. because this man is so very fond of you. from the moment he first tried speaking your name to the now where he naturally makes you laugh. but you're not one playing house with him, he just has his way with words and you somewhat share the same humor. you never forget the fact that the man before you has blood in his hands and you make sure you're not dancing in it.

"got a boyfriend, bonnie?" he said out of the blue as you almost cut your finger peeling some apples for him.

"i don't think it concerns you if i do have one." you carried on with your task, fixated on not cutting yourself. he really has an overwhelming presence even if it's been a few weeks now. you can feel him eyeing you, watching your every move.

"hm? a little cold now, huh? 's like we haven't been spendin' weeks together." he chuckled a little. "i'm askin' so i know if i should book a reservation at that fancy diner once i get out later."

you spared him a look of disbelief, laughing afterward at the absurdity of his words. but he just had a soft grin as he watch you break into laughter. "you're kidding."

he shook his head, smile remaining as he slyly raised his brows. adoring how you became a little red. whether it was out of embarrassment or something else, he knew it was about him.

"like what, you're gonna break out?" you said as a joke but he seemed serious with his scheming eyes and sharp smile.

"aye. it'll be carnage." he angled his head further and closer to your face, you felt his breath against your neck.

your eyes widen. for the first time, you felt fear against him. because you know he's serious about it. he's got a sentence for more than a couple of decades but it's of no significance for the most notorious of south blue. he'll escape in no time either by his mates or by himself.

"how do you know i won't rat you out?" you raised a brow, finally finishing the last apple slice and setting it down the plate next to him. you grabbed a fork and started feeding it to him one by one. he remains restrained ever since he got detained, he's too dangerous to remove from cuffs so even the most basic thing such as eating is done by you.

"just a gut. you don't want me gettin' in any trouble, aye?" he bit off the apple and chewed as his smile grew when you tried fighting off your smile with a subtle shake of your head.

"then if you think i do, you wouldn't break out of here."

"ah, where's the fun in that?" he shook his head and clicked his tongue. he soon motioned for you to come closer because he'll whisper something. "they're gonna be 'ere by midnight, standby till then. aye, bonnie?"

it was foreboding. there was only a couple of hours until midnight and you had to be going before then. he asked you where he'll be picking you up but you just laughed it off with him. he wouldn't do it, right?

part of you was in denial that he'd actually push through, he can't pull it off, right? this is a massive fortress in the middle of the ocean. how did he even communicate all of this to his gang? but that's a fucking criminal who's outsmarted the entire south blue, so it wasn't much of an unrealistic thing.

until the alarms blared a couple of minutes after midnight and you were jolted awake. still not having a grasp of the situation, you took a few seconds to settle in and align yourself with the state of just waking up and the damned alarm that messed with your brain.

you fell asleep on the nurse's on call room, a building away from the inmates. you told yourself you'd only take a moment to rest so you can pack up and leave but it was too late. gunshots had already filled the halls.

next thing you know, the door got knocked over by eustass kidd himself. he got shot in his other healthy arm and ended up collapsing down the floor from the impact. this guy is so fucking battered.

"oh, looks like i still found my way around you." he looked up, clutching his flesh arm that was shot with his newly lodged metal ones. without the cuffs, he generated one for his missing arm.

"y-you're bleeding again! i got you all healed up on one side and you're fucking up the other! is this on purpose!?" you frantically asked, looking around the room for a first aid kit.

kidd chuckled, "still true to your duty even in off times? you're one hell of a nurse."

you heard the steps and the gunshots nearing, and you didn't think twice to drag you and kidd to the bathroom. the guards soon entered the on call room and it was a goddamn mess it looked like a typhoon ran through it. but kidd was nowhere in sight. the only place left to check was the bathroom, which had its lights on.

"w-what the fuck are you- why are you strippin'?!" kidd turned red and all flustered, you had him standing at the other end of the tub with the water running from the shower on the other end. "also, why the fuck did you turn the shower on?!" you hushed him, as if telling him to trust you.

you wrapped a towel around you and then took everything off. only thing left is your panties so you appear quite literally naked. you then got in the tub with kidd. wetting your hair, your face and shoulders before drawing the curtain. kidd remained in his position uncomfortably standing as far as he can and keeping his eyes off of you, even though the proximity was so suffocating.

not even a second passed and the door busted open with the cops and their rifles pointed at the drawn curtain. they instantly dropped their guard and got flustered when they saw you peak from the shower.

"oh shit- sorry, nurse name. we're just- your patient broke out, the mob boss-"

"get out!"

they left apologizing, not questioning you anymore because they have seriously overstepped. the fact that the suspect might be inside flew off their heads when they saw a half naked woman.

"did all that just to save my ass? and now you're half naked before me? aren't you such a doll." kidd said behind you, turning off the shower as he got close to you in doing so, his chest pressing on your back. "let's get that shit off, aye? water makes my metal arm go weak."

it was at that point where everything had dawned in on you. the bullshit you were doing. helping a criminal and you were on your panties with just a towel covering your bare frame before him. you felt cold and you instantly stepped out the tub.

"oh? don't be scared. i won't fuckin' bite. matter of fact, i respect it. made me admire you more." kidd planned to get out but you just rushed to him and drew the curtains once more. pushing him quite fiercely back in the tub he almost slipped.

"s-stop! i-i'll g-get d-dressed first!" you said in much like a blabber, hurrying to just put some clothes on. kidd couldn't contain his smile, leaning his head by the walls and laughing silently to himself. the pain in his arm fading with the burst of joy. his heart getting a little too excited for you.

once it's all over you had him sit down the toilet seat so you can clean his wound and take the bullet out.

"hey, bonnie." he started, observing how you try to calm down with that flustered look on your face amidst prepping his wound to take the bullet out.

"mind tellin' me why you're doin' all this? coulda just left me there, aye? it ain't me to sweat the little things but it makes me wonder a lot about you. ain't you scared of me? for what i might do to you now that i ain't in cuffs anymore?"his voice was dark and he spoke a little slower this time. with sincere and observant eyes. he's making you feel hot with his gaze, so much so that you can't get the damn gloves in your sweaty hands.

"shut up just- shut up." you mumbled, still not looking at him in the eye. his metal hand grabbed your hand, which was earlier busy with tending to his shot arm, to stop you so you can look at him.

"i told you not to get close to me." he started, "so why the fuck are you still playin' nurse while i'm on the run?"

he wasn't teasing nor was he fucking around. kidd was genuinely looking for answers. because he makes a damn good point in calling you out. but you don't know either. you can just leave him lying around. get his head roll so peace will finally be in the south once and for all. but you can't because you're way too fond of him too.

you revere the rush with him. you're such a freak really, the adrenaline you get from the danger he exudes. he makes you excited. feeling like this for a patient is unethical but hell, at this point with the shit you're doing, you're bound to lose your license at this point.

"i didn't forget that dinner you promised." you sat before him, gloves finally in place while holding the forceps you had in your first aid kit. "now keep quiet cause i'll get that bullet out."

kidd was speechless. his heart running a mile per second, the pain in his arm as you carried out the task was almost dulled because he couldn't hear anything but his heart. he never thought you'd feel the same way. he thought you were way out of his league. but here you are now, saving him for another chance and not leaving him susceptible for infection.

but it was not long before he squirmed in pain when the bullet lodged in his brachium moved with you trying to pull it out. you tried alleviating his agony by gently holding him in place by the side of his neck, your thumb soothing circles near his pulse. he was going fucking ballistic at this point with your touch and stimulation and the excruciating pain in his arm.

once you got the bullet out, he was sweating. his body limp and leaning on the tiled walls of the bathroom. you stitched him up soon after cleaning his wound and then bandaged him. he was quiet and was watching you the whole time. very still and was not even teasing you.

"that was the longest i've heard you shut your mouth. was it that painful?" you joked, chuckling as you cut off the final strip of bandage from the roll.

but kidd had pulled you into a kiss with his metal arm when you met his eyes after your joke. he caught your breath as he grinned through your lips, angling his head better to sneak in his tongue. and you just melted like a puddle. your eyes wide open throughout the kiss.

but it was not long before you melted, taking him all in and closing your eyes. his tongue driving you nuts as you squeezed on his thigh, asking him to stop because more of it will make you explode.

once he pulled away, he gave your chin a little poke. the metal playfully meeting your skin with its cold surface.

that's how the most notorious man of the south had escaped with his assigned nurse. news spread out quickly that it was a love out of a novel that sparked in the walls of the prison. some crazy x crazy crap you two danced on.

because why else would you be so keen on making yourself smell good before he picks you up for that dumb dinner? maybe he'd like a sweet smell? or maybe a powdery smell? an erotic one?

and when did the most notorious overthought how he did his hair when he never really cared about it? would you like to see it messy? styled?

kidd had you wore a silk red dress he picked out while he donned a matching one. he pulled up with his convertible on one of his villas that he had you stay in for the time being. he let himself in and waited for you by the couches near the stairs, impatiently at that.

"couldn't wait any longer in your car?" your voice echoed the huge walls of his manor. he looked up and saw you, his heart skipped a beat at how mesmerizing you already look even when you're this far.

"i don't like waiting." he replied, a soft grin as he kept his eye on you as you descended the stairs and finally got close to him. "knew red would look good on you." kidd snaked his flesh arm on your side, placing a kiss down your neck so as to not ruin your make up.

he felt your pulse quicken and your breath hitch when he pulled away. his arm around you tighten. his cologne pungent. and you saw his scar up close, the one you nursed—god, he looked hot.

"hm? somethin' on my face?" he tilted his head a little, discerning the look in your eyes.

you held his cheek close and placed a kiss on his lips. a kiss that's been precarious and has been begging ever since you two parted ways—when he dropped you off of this villa and he went to his own place for a couple of days. you didn't catch sight of him nor did he stop by for a few days, you figured it's some things he's catching up on with the underworld cause he's been MIA for several weeks because of his arrest.

"your lips need more pigment, i don't want you looking dead when i got you all healed up." you wiped your thumb to the corner of his lips, getting rid of the smudged area. you admired your creation with a soft grin.

kidd fought every fiber of his being to not just sling you in his arm and take this all upstairs. after all–with one flick of his finger, that metal ring that keeps your dress together will come right off because that thing you did flipped a switch in him.

"since when did you become so damn cheeky." he slung his arm behind your neck and walked with you out the door. he shut the door behind you before manipulating the car door with his ability from afar so you could get in with ease.

"hm? isn't that one of the things why i amuse you?" you faced him, observing how he would react at your reply. but your stomach was already growling so he ended up laughing in driving off.

"you're kiddin'. how're you only gonna eat a steak dish at a michelin restaurant?" kidd almost berated you at your hesitance when you're literally having a date with one of the richest people in the world.

"i-it's my first time here i want to take it easy, plus i... think it'd be overstepping if i order a lot." you fiddled with your fingers. this wasn't your usual saturday nights so you felt a little shy about it.

"bonnie." he pulled you closer by the curve of your hips, the seat was a semicircular sofa surrounding half of the circular table so he was handsy with you. "this is my treat. the shit i'm spendin' 'ere ain't even a dime to me. so fuck off with that oversteppin' shit you're on about and enjoy the dinner with me, aye?" he slowly laid it out for you in his ear, his fingers digging on the sides of your bare thigh.

as you almost break into a smile, you hear gunshots from afar the restaurant with wares breaking and people exclaiming. kidd's grip around you tightened and he immediately pulled out his gun.

then it dawned in on you. you're both wanted, branded as fugitives. you might as well learn how to fight now, because you'll always be doing it with kidd on your side. constantly being on the run as the first lady of the south blue's most notorious man.

AAAAAHHH 🥹🫶 this was kinda hard to do! i didn't know how to make it dark romancy? as a SN this got me thinkin too much 🫣😳

thank you so much for the request anon! 🌷 kidd as a mafia boss 🤩🔥

if you guys are interested in requesting a fic for my 500 followers event, my askbox is open! click here for the main event post for more info :DD i have slots for forced proximity, hurt to comfort, fantasy, he puts you in your place (smut), and modern aus!

[art-from-within]

There’s a reddit post on r/eldenringdiscussions called “post-DLC opinion of Mohg” or smthing it talks about how Mohg would have probably been worshipped in the shadow lands and it made me hella sad

The hornsent would have had their horny heads blown off at the mere presence of Mohg because of how unfathomably based he was by their own metrics. fucking LOOK AT HIM BRO. Like, actually let us look at him. Even without the hornsent/golden order "ooh omen divine/evil" propaganda, he alone stands majestic. You could have had no context before entering mohgwyn palace and still come out of that fight thinking "Okay he was definitely a big deal".

A hornsent stands beneath him; He is tall, aloft, his wings like a roof over their world. He delivers, from every angle, the ambience of a divine lord. His drip is immaculate, his horn alignment is omen goals, his bloodboon generous with strength. He is THAT o-MAN. Mf emerges out of a pool of his own blood, blinged out, and slays tarnished trespasser with pitchfork. +100000000 aura. He walks, struts, fights like a born king/lord/god. He is proud too, reveling in the fire of his noble blood. The formless mother of truth herself plays as his godly patron; He is EVERYTHING that would have had that hornsent noble npc frothing from his mouth

I am convinced that, in the shadow lands, he would have been worshipped as a figure of divinity. An irrefutable proof of their own blessed nature. People would have kissed the very grounds he walked on, maybe even make headdresses mimicking the heart shape of his horns. He would have had it ALL, and his mother took that from him. And his father. And the world they brought after. It is tragic man.

[planete777]

UNFORGETTABLE・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. like a moth to a flame, lando gets sucked right into the beckoning curls of smoke, and the glimmering eyes of a girl he doesn't even know.

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, getting high, first time smoking, club scene, oral sex (fem rec.), fingering, slight choking, protected p in v sex, high hotness pt. wtv, not proofread

NOTE. submitted to my impulsive thoughts and wrote abt high!lando.... again, and it's kinda very long. used canva this time for the header so that's why it's uh different (i hate it 💔). man, i'm enjoying this era, i wish for it to never end, but hey ho, read and enjoy my luvs xxx. oh and listen to unforgettable while reading this... or not, it's a free world.

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any thoughts, scenarios, requests etc about high!lando 🤍

lando feels like time has stopped, and, quite frankly, his heart along with it. the frantic world around him mutes, and the only thing he hears is his slow, uneven breaths and a violently thrumming pulse that flushes his ears red.

he knows he's drunk a mediated amount tonight, but the way his body feels a pull towards the eyes all the way across the room has him feeling completely out of control. he swears she's glowing around the edges, highlighted by the dancing lights that ricochet off the walls of the club and right onto her, as if the room was her spotlight and the rest of them were just in it for decoration.

she stares back, reds and blues washing over like unholy tidal waves that literally praise her, then she prods her mouth with the spliff in her hand. he watches as her eyes fall shut as seconds pass, breaking the only contact they had, before her lips part, eyes opening once again to immediately fall upon lando and she blows with such controlled seduction that lando believes the smoke hooks a finger at him, coaxing him nearer.

his legs move on their own accord, his heart beats quicker the closer he gets, and then she gets up with a smirk that speaks too much to lando, walking through an open archway. the tension is unfathomable, and lando's palms flood with perspiration as he follows her through a dark corridor. it's entirely stupid, he knows, following a stranger, but if he's being truthful, dying at the hands of a girl who's unbelievingly akin to a siren would be his honour.

they arrive at an empty balcony, littered with a few chairs that are situated haphazardly, and the girl passes them swiftly and goes to lean against the fence.

"what's a pretty boy like you doing looking at a girl like me?" her voice sounds like it's dripping in sin, sickeningly sweet sin, and lando feels his skin burn for it again.

"girl like you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, "what do you mean?"

she's laughing, throwing her head back as her throat releases a sound that triggers heat to his dick, and fuck, he's hot everywhere. his eyes stay fused to her as she takes another drag, blows it high into the sky, and he feels his composure slowly elevate away with it.

she brings her head down, rolling the spliff between her fingers, "you know what i'm talking about. you literally look like you were forced to be here."

"well, i kinda of was," he thinks back to max's adamance, just hours prior, and curses him for being the same person to leave him not long after their arrival, "but trust me, i do go out when i can."

she hums, it's dismissive and ambiguous, so lando can't gage whether she believes him or not, but he doesn't let it fester.

"you always come here?" he asks, slightly curious. it's his first time at this particular club, courtesy max (again) who heard of it from a friend of a friend, and if coming here means meeting the girl every time, he would go with no question.

"haven't been for a while actually. corporate jobs are hell, so i've been, instead, getting high at home. boring as fuck if you ask me."

she takes another drag, and lando stares at it with a newfound desire, swallowing as his mouth waters for it. he's unknowing and delirious as to where it comes from, and the way his veins tickle for it is absolutely gratifying.

the girl notices, chuckling as she signals for him to take it, "wanna hit?"

lando's mind freezes, and he begins to fumble and blush so profusely, it's humiliating.

"i've... never been high before."

her eyebrows shoot upwards but fall back almost immediately, "huh... should've figured."

"why?" lando asks skeptically as she inhales once again, then lets it out, the distinctive burn of weed hitting his nostrils.

she rolls her tongue in her mouth and smiles, "you look at it as if it's too good to have, but wrong to take. gives you away."

lando grins sheepishly, looking down at his feet then up again, "can't blame me. you make it look good."

"you've been missing out," she jesters, pulling down her dress. it draws every curve like it is meant to, reaching the middle of her thigh, and the red continues as lace heels that fascinate lando as to how she even put them on.

"would you like to try it?"

he so wants to say no, weighing the consequences in his mind if he were to be found out, but he doesn't care. not when the girl's lips wrap around with spliff and suck it in as if it's godsent. for once, lando wants to detangle and feel like he's disintegrating within bounds of euphoria.

he looks straight at her and nods, his hands trembling with the anticipated thrill, and she grabs his arm, pulling him back inside. they walk down towards a different corridor, and reach an unlabeled door, which the girl walks right into as if it's habitual.

"wait, you work here?"

she laughs, sitting down on the leather seat as lando joins her. it's a basic room with red walls and black sofas, almost too unsuspecting.

"no, my sister does. this room is always vacant, i never see anyone go in here," she tells him, ending with an edge that leaves lando unwanting to ask anything more.

she reaches into her purse, pulling out a metal tin that she flicks open, revealing a few neatly arranged spliffs. the reality sets in and lando rubs his palms on his jeans nervously.

"put it between your lips," she holds one out for him, and he takes it without question, slotting it into his mouth. the girls tells him to hold still as she brings a lighter to the tip of the spliff and once she moves away, he breathes in too much. the burn at the back of his throat is indescribably invigorating, and he pinches the roll to slide it out, before his mouth weeps smoke and a cough escapes him.

"you're a natural," she says as she hits a drag of her own, mouth curling upwards at the edges.

there's something about what he feels that's vehemently unparalleled. he feels like his brain is sinking into a pillowly goodness of absolutely nothing, and his whole body feels weightless. he goes in for another smoke, mind melting like blow torched ice, and he body completely relaxes into the couch.

"i'm stoned already, what the fuck?" his mouth feels sewn shut and simultaneously stretched apart, and he doesn't even know if he enunciates his words clearly.

"you're new to this, don't worry," she reassures, moving closer to lando. heat radiates off her like she's an incinerator, and every sense is amplified erratically when her hand curls around his nape.

"allow me?"

lando nods, "do whatever."

then her mouth, warm and so soft, cups around his, ejecting hot smoke into it, and, fucking hell, lando feels like he's being inflated with some addictively foreign sensation and his mind shuts down. he stares at her, eyes too heavy to stay fully open, and he wants her so bad, he could beg.

"i wanna kiss you so fucking bad," his voice is hoarse and he sees her something in her eyes gleam.

"do it, then."

there's nothing cautious about it. they've been tiptoeing around the achingly palpable tension for too long, and their lips move hungrily against each other's to satiate the thirst that has heightened vivaciously. lando loses it completely when she sucks on his tongue, like it was second nature for her, and his moans drag out, heavy and deep.

he can't wait any longer, not when his dick hardens in his pants and all he can think of is the girl's essence making him drunk.

he unwillingly breaks the kiss, meeting the sight of her swollen lips and red eyes, "we can carry this on in my hotel room."

then she grins, "thought you'd never say."

they leave the club, high out of their minds and barely able to make it to the exit, but when they do, the chilled air knocks them slightly sober. lando rings an uber, which arrives within 5 minutes, and they stumble into the car, hands teasing and touching with desperate discretion.

lando is so faded out that a drive that's normally 10 minutes lasts for 2, and he's dragged out by the girl who throws her gratitude to the driver. the ride in the elevator entails an aggressive make out, lando's hands squeezing the girl's ass and her arms tight around his neck, rushing out and stumbling through the doors as it dings at the 4th floor. he can't let go of her lips, not when he knows how sweet it is, and he doesn't, until they're through the door and scrambling on the bed, clothes long gone with only their undergarments left.

he kisses down her neck, mumbling compliment after compliment and she sighs, deflating into the bed.

"you're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

he strokes both hands on her thighs, spreading them open and meeting red panties that are completely soiled through.

"look at you," he kisses her inner thigh like it's sacred, "all wet for a guy you don't know."

she moans, high pitched and airy, grabbing lando's hair and pushing him nearer to her cunt.

"just eat me out, fuck," her back arches and it's a sight that has lando completely acquiescent, ridding her of her panties and lips kissing her cunt. she whimpers, hands grabbing the sheets as his tongue runs through her, before sucking on her clit eagerly.

"oh my fuck— keep going."

she grinds against his face, hands tight within his curls and her legs shake. she tastes unreal, and lando can't get enough, licking rabidly at her cunt.

he's too lost in it all to notice how she tugs one of his arms up from around her thigh, until he feels her hand bring his towards her neck, and then he loses his mind. she's so fucking filthy, and he smiles against her pussy as his ministrations turn more desperate to get her to the edge, squeezing his hand more as her moans increase in pitch and become songs to his ears.

he brings two fingers to her entrance, sliding in with much ease, before wasting no time to curl them. she's squirming, and he's stretching her out, bringing another finger before curling them again. she arches so much, and screams out a loud moan as her eyes roll back.

"oh shit. fuck fuck, i'm cumming!"

he doesn't expect her to let go so soon, and neither does he expect the sudden spray of wetness that gushes out of her cunt. he lapping and licking it all up though, and, over stimulated, the girl pushes his head away. he relents, kissing back up her body before landing on her lips, melting her pants into his mouth.

knees bent, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, the girl breaks the kiss, hand sliding down lando's chest and grabbing his dick, "fuck me."

his mind goes on autopilot as he replaces her hand, pumping his dick and sliding a condom on before sheathing all of him inside her. she's so hot and tight, and he's so thick and long that their moans come out simultaneously, loud and drawled.

lando doesn't waste time to pull back and snap his hips right back in, making her back raise off the bed in a delicious curve.

"fuck, you're so big."

the praise goes right to his head and he starts thrusting in and out like he has gone crazy. her breasts sway by the power of his thrust, and lando takes into his mouth, sucking on it and playing with the other.

he feels spoiled, there's so much of her that he's addicted to in such a short time, and he goes to kiss her again. the headboard of the bed slams against the wall, her nails scratch deep marks into his back, and he's moaning into her mouth as his dick throbs far into her pussy.

her legs are bent near her head now, and his thrusts slide in so deep into her cunt, that he can see a bulge appear in her stomach. he takes one of her hands from the headboard and put it against her belly.

"you feel that?" he says, grunting and thrusting harder.

"oh fuck," she drags out, arching her back even more and squeezing his dick like a vice.

"i'm gonna cum," her voice sounds so fucked out and sated, and lando quickens before his thrusts turn sloppy.

"cum with me," he huffs out. she moans, her eyes roll back, and lando spurtsinto the condom as her feels hers coat his. his thighs are tense and sweaty as he rides out their highs before he lands straight unto her.

"where the hell did you learn how to fuck like that?" she sounds spent, and lando would give too much to hear her like that everyday.

he smiles and winks, "secret."

__

lando wakes up to the sun leaking on his face, a muscles aching. he turns to the spot beside him, but meets an empty bed, cold as if it had been untouched the whole night.

the disappointment is great, and he drags a hand down his face, sighing into the pillow. he doesn't even know her name to even ask about her at the club, and the dejection sits like a lump in his heart.

he turns back to his bedside table, reaching for his phone, but instead, meeting a small, rectangular metal box with a note stuck on it. he rushes to sit up, grinning like a child on christmas day, and as he reads, it grows wider.

'a little present from me. you smoke like the euphoria was made for you - call me xxx-xxxx-xxx'

[shoutoutout]

The summer's swelter suffocates. With nowhere to dissipate under the oppressive humidity, the sweat rolls down her temples, curves down her throat. Azula kicks a wave at her sparring partner but in her rush to end the match, the flames flare off course.

No. Don't let him see your desperation.

Another spin, dodge, counter. Her father in her ear. Angular. Precise. The sun beats directly overhead but her training had long since begun before it rose.

The man reels. He throws his forearms up to brace against her onslaught, splitting the torrent like a river running around a stone. Good, she thinks. He's on the defensive. Another hit and she'll have won. Certainly then she can rest.

But her limits draw near. Each dry and shallow breath leaves her gasping. She pushes through the fatigue but soon her vision narrows and the palace grounds blur. She searches inward but there is no vestige of herself left; that girl has been burnt for tinder and fed to the flames. She scrabbles for a last drop of fuel to coax her fire. If she can just—

“Enough!” he booms from the balcony which overlooks the training square.

Azula chokes. A draw is not a win. “But Father–!”

He holds a palm to the air which stings her cheek as if slapped.

But she can’t stop now; not when a victory is within reach (not when she is the last child left to carry her father’s pride). She blinks back hot tears and decides she will not accept a loss today.

Her opponent isn’t ready—couldn’t be ready—when the blast of blue flames barrels him over. He skitters across the courtyard and then her tears fall freely.

“Azula!” her father reprimands but she cannot bear her name from his lips and so she sheds her sparring gear in a trail as she storms inside.

She grips the bathroom counter and stares into the mirror. What she beholds is unfathomable: swollen eyes, dripping sweat, hair a mess. Who is this girl gaping back? Useless. She wipes violently at the streaking tears but all attempts fail to change the reflection and she is so exhausted, so hollow, so drained that there is nothing left to do but close her fingers into a fist and punch the glass hard enough for it to shatter.

The shards rain down—pinging like windchimes against the tile—and finally, finally that weary creature stops its glaring.

Lo and Li speak in unison through the door. “Azula, your father sent us to fetch you. He requests another training session.”

Oh. It’s a kindness he grants, one she is certain Zuko would not receive if he were still here. She smooths her hair back with shaking hands then dabs at the blood across her sliced knuckles. She pulls the gauntlet over her seeping wounds to tuck away the pain.

Her exhaustion will wait.

She wills her breath steady and then she strides from the room, leaving behind the broken glass and splintered girl for someone else to clean.

—

(Just a lil preview from my next chapter that I enjoyed writing)

[allasticus]

Amid their dark meditations and flailing in the abyss, a light burst upon their scene, an anglers lure in toxic green, glaring like a hateful eye. "Well now this is the third time I've come across you." Echoed a voice like a mans from the scrying shape. "What are we supposed to be?" It asked, curiosity easily sounding like hunger as it glowed closer.

What emerged was the twisted cusp between man and the unfathomable. The vessel recoiled—snatched away in silence, bound and buried beneath shadowed chains. What remained was a face: pale, still, and disturbingly vacant. There was a flicker of something known, yet the figure before them hovered in darkness, too fractured to grasp fully.

Its eyes slit open, fixating on the harsh glare that sliced through the void. Black tendrils writhed and stretched outward, entwining with the malicious flickers of light in a sinister, unholy dance.

A slow, cruel smile cracked the stillness, followed by a voice dripping with cold recognition.

“Third time?” it hissed, voice rasping like dry bones grinding. “No... first.”

There was a hunger beneath the words—deep, raw, barely contained—lurking just beneath the surface, like something waiting to snap free.

“What are we meant to be?” it whispered, voice twisting through the darkness. “We are free. Free… but who desires to speak to the unchained? Are you free? Or are you shackled, imprisoned by your own curiosity, clawing desperately for a key that may never come?”

[ikinremu]

KINKTOBER DAY 14: John Shelby x Face Fucking

Backchat

John Shelby x Fem!Reader

Tags: Oral (M receiving), praise

You and John Shelby couldn't be further from strangers, and you were certainly no stranger to the petty arguments you shared - besides, the many of unfathomably low significance typically ended the same way; anything of a sexual nature.

And that was today's case. Stood, rather distantly, arms crossed, bickering with the stocky man inside an otherwise vacant, somewhat compact workspace.

"John, I'm just tired, alright?" You so heavily exhaled, delivery far more venomous than the context itself, "You don't need to get so indignant about it."

Blatantly brazen, he scoffed, "You really think I'm being indignant?"

"Yes," You practically huffed out, humidity shooting from your gently parted lips, "But I really can't be bothered to talk to you about this."

"I was just trying to cheer you up."

Truthfully, you couldn't even recall what had initiated such trivial bickering - it was rather an ongoing cycle by this point.

"Alright, well, I never asked you to do that." The quick-spoken, quite lethal words were beyond mindless, you were really just speaking to speak - not truly believing what came out.

With a razor-sharp, cavernous inhale, John so heavily scoffed - and you didn't blame him.

"What's all this backchat, eh?" He inquired, "Should put that mouth to better use."

In theory, your eyebrows shot unsettlingly high, your lips sprayed a vicious, squabble-ending retort and you stormed off - though as he suddenly, possessively stepped nearer, you simply couldn't find it anywhere within yourself to do so. You were helplessly compelled to forgo.

Honestly, it was incredibly typical for the pair of you. You were never remotely dismayed with the conclusion these irrelevant quarrels were drawn to: you both realised - whatever the case - that it was mind-numbingly dull and discovered a far better, far more fulfilling use of your shared time.

Suddenly, his wonderfully warm, blissfully soft skin grazed the gentle, familiar surface of your own, pinkish lips briskly brushing over yours. Skilfully enough, John reduced his thick voice to a mere sultry whisper, "On your knees."

Rather shamelessly, you found yourself complying, so abruptly - so mercilessly - eager to feel him, to taste him. All of him.

His mouth stretched to an enormously complacent, all too recognisable grin as he both slowly and kindly swept a momentary stroke over your reddening cheek. Granting you a sweet, fragile peck atop the forehead, he inched slightly closer, thick digits unwinding his buckled trousers.

"Open." He ordered - though there was a clear lenience to his tone.

Upon your jaw's rapid unclenching, John eased himself in, vacating the sodden warmth between your lips. His raw, thick length slid onto your expectant tongue, shaft softly pulsing within your ravenously latched mouth.

A stomach-tingling, undeniably weighty groan escaped the man as he suddenly snaked a large, quite stony hand atop your bobbing head - largely splaying his fingers over your scalp, your hunger engulfing his throbbing tip.

"Fuck.." John heaved, pre-cum leaking length twitching within the flawless, skilful swirls of your tongue.

Stomach pooling with a - beyond - deep, humming heat, you rhythmically glided your mouth up and down his quivering cock, further yearning for his familiar taste.

Drool coated the very brinks of your inner-lips, thin, gradual drips running down the motions of your chin as your tongue tantalised the now relentlessly convulsing head of his cock.

"Shit," He grunted, "Just like that."

Undeniably fuelled by the low, pleasured extractions, you heightened each infliction - tongue's pace quickening as you further submerged his convulsing cock within your gliding mouth.

"Fuckin' hell." John wavered, thick fingers caressing your hair as you - quite abysmally - attempted to compress your creeping smugness.

His bare, firm length twitched against your tongue, gloriously sliding your ravenous mouth over his shaft - earning the deepest, gruffest groan yet.

An abrupt burst of hot, pale ribbons painted your rapidly stroking tongue, John’s raw shaft helplessly spasming against it.

"Fuck," He groaned, "Swallow for me. That’s my fuckin’ girl.”

With a swift, merely singular gulp, you rid your tastebuds of the warm, salty substance - mouth parting from its previous fulfilment.

In a hurried fluster of pants, John uttered an overwhelmingly breathy statement - one that was frankly rather agreeable, “Shit, much prefer that to whatever the fuck we were on about.”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the asks feature on my page for requests of oneshots/drabbles/blurbs etc.. would be greatly appreciated, though I will be responding to them after kinktober since i’m doing the full month! <3

[meandmythoughts210]

The oppressive heat perforated each lungful of hateful, poisonous air. It choked him as he gazed at the figure before him. The magma of Mustafar churned around them, the waves of impenetrable heat rising off the rivers of molten rock adding to the already disconcerting scene.

Anakin, the man–boy–he had thought he knew as he knew himself, was made a stranger by an unfathomable well of hatred, hurt, sorrow. He began to pace along the bank of the molten river, lightsaber in hand.

“You failed, Obi-Wan,” he said in a flat, unaffected tone, “this is your great dereliction.”

“I know.” he swallowed, struggling to speak past the knot of guilt in his throat.

  “I know, I left you here. I–”

Anakin laughed, a bitter sound that echoed unnaturally off the rocks around them. That was not the laugh of his Padawaan, of his brother. He didn’t know this person.

“Your failure came long before our meeting on this hellish planet. For all your wisdom, all your calculations, all your devotion to the Force, you could not see beyond your own nose.”

The hem of his cloak, brought too close to the river of lava, burst into flame. It engulfed him as his quiet bitterness turned into fury.

“I have been a slave all my life. To Wato, to the Jedi, to The Emperor. The Chancellor,” he sneered, “groomed me for years. He made me his perfect puppet. Why didn’t you sense it? Why didn’t you suspect? Why didn’t you intervene?”

The flame was searing his flesh, a foul stench filling the air. They danced around his head, crowning him with his own destruction. As he lurched forward, he ignited his lightsaber, the blue Kyber crystal having been bled to a bloody crimson. 

“You could have saved me long before this night, Obi-Wan!” he raged. The shadows cast by his fiery halo bent and stretched, making him appear larger.

“This is your doing Obi-Wan! Look at me! Look at me, see what you have made! LOOK AT ME!”

Obi-Wan forced himself to look into the creature's eyes. His stomach clenched as he looked into them. The man was well and truly gone; an animal’s tawny iris, ringed with a wreath of hateful scarlet, looked back at him.

Sorrow like he had never known flooded his heart. He had no defense against the accusations laid before him. They were the same rebukes he had whispered to himself in the lonely hours of the night, as he pleaded with the Force or whatever power was there to allow him to fix it, somehow. 

Anakin's skin was rapidly melting away, dripping absurdly to the ground like the wax of a forgotten candle. Fire seeped through him until there was nothing but charred bones and his robotic prosthetics left. The thing that used to be Anakin continued to advance, swinging it’s lightsaber so that sparks lept from the rocks in front of it as it walked. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He couldn’t speak past the tears that threatened to burst their dam the more he opened his mouth. He took half a step back from the skeleton as it came closer. He wanted to run, but his feet felt as if they were fused to the ground. 

“Your sorrow means nothing,” it said. It plunged its crackling lightsaber into his chest, burying it to the hilt.

He sat up, gasping for air. His chest heaved as his heart thundered inside its cavern, desperately attempting to regulate itself. His lightsaber was in his hand, his thumb on the button, ready to ignite the cerulean blade. 

“A dream,” he told himself, “nothing more than a dream.” It didn’t comfort him.

The night air chilled his clothes, made damp by his panicked sweat. He moved to get out of his makeshift bed, knowing to chase sleep would be futile. He paused as he sat on the edge of the bed, his bare feet resting on the dusty stone floor. Grief, remorse, fear. They weighed him down, fettering him to his bed. 

He felt a weariness beyond his years. The guilt had stretched his soul nearly past its capacity, making each breath, each motion a burden. The weight of so many deaths–Qui-Gon, Sabine, Padme, Anakin, Ahsoka, the list went on and on–sat on his shoulders. He sometimes wondered why he should continue to draw breath or why his heart should continue to beat. What was left?

Some reserve of strength in his soul began to break. The man that used to be Obi-Wan Kenobi put his graying head in his hands and wept.

[swytchoocos]

Obsession's Bloom

Ran haitani x fem reader

Tw: kidnapping.

Decription: you wanted to break up with ran but he didn’t want to let you go.

(This one is pretty short)

Underneath the neon glow of Tokyo’s bustling streets, a sense of obsession swirled in the air, echoing the relentless rhythm of the city. Ran watched your figure retreat into the distance, the glow of the convenience store’s lights flickering behind you. You had told him it was over; you wanted to break free. But to him, that was unfathomable. You and Ran had shared memories painted across the canvas of cherry blossoms and bustling markets, secrets whispered under the loud hum of the city. But lately, darkness had crept into your relationship, and you could feel the weight of it pulling you down. You needed to breathe, to find yourself outside the confines of his love.

As you turned the corner onto a quiet side street, your heart raced with anxiety. In the last few weeks, you had noticed changes in Ran—his lingering glances, the intensity in his touch. Those once tender gestures had morphed into something suffocating. Before you knew it, you found yourself caught in his web. Ran had anticipated your need for space, and his possessive love had morphed into something more sinister. Rushing after you with the determination of a man scorned, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to him. “Please, don’t go,” he begged, his voice low and desperate. “I can’t lose you. I love you.”

You tried to free yourself, to find solace in your decision, but his grip tightened, an unspoken promise that this love would not let you go. He led you down a path lit only by the sparse light from flickering streetlamps, until you both reached his house—a place that once felt safe but now loomed larger than life in your fear. “Ran, you can’t do this!” you protested as he ushered you inside, the door slamming shut behind you. The reality of the situation crashed down as you realized you were trapped. He had locked you in.

“I’ll do anything for you to understand,” he insisted, eyes wild with a mix of love and madness. “Just give it a little time. We can work this out.”

Each hour that passed dripped with tension. You tried reasoning with him, talking, reminding him of the lack of freedom, of the love that felt more like a cage. But each plea was met with desperate declarations of love and promises to change. The line between love and possession had blurred, and you felt lost in the fog of his emotions. Days turned into a blurred haze of intimacy and confinement, the city outside thriving while you remained a prisoner within these four walls. It rattled you; the freedom you once cherished evaporated. You started to see fear in his eyes whenever you mentioned the word “breakup,” as if the very thought could shatter him completely. But as the nights slipped into deep silence, a new sense of resignation began to settle in your heart. You were wary, yet you couldn’t shake the moments of joy that still flickered within Ran—the moments when he smiled, the rare humor, the tender moments that reminded you why you fell for him in the first place.

Gradually, as time wore on, your resolve softened. You watched the city lights shine from the window, reminding you of the vibrant life outside. Yet, something deeper tugged at your heart, and soon you began to see his love, however twisted, as a reflection of his fear of losing you. “I can’t keep pretending,” you finally murmured one night, your voice barely above a whisper. But when you turned to see him, you found him looking at you with eyes filled with desperation mixed with hope.

“Then don’t,” he replied softly, taking a step closer. “Stay. Just stay a little while longer.”In that moment, a decision loomed before you. You could escape, reclaim your freedom, and perhaps find peace, but a part of you hesitated. Could you bear to hurt him when you saw the vulnerability shining through his madness?

It was a twisted bargain, one that you never thought you would make. So in a city pulsing with life, surrounded by vibrant chaos, you chose to surrender your heart, accepting the strange path ahead of you. You leaned into him, seeing for the first time the man beneath the storm, yearning for love as much as you were.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” you admitted, your voice steadying. “But we have to talk. We can't keep doing this.”

Maybe you had lost a piece of yourself along the way. But in that brokenness, new possibilities flickered to life. And for better or for worse, you chose to navigate this dangerous love together, side by side.