#Love and Deepspace Fanfiction

[umamaki]

ꨄ︎ afab!reader, somnophilia ish

There is something extremely addicting about sleepy sex with Rafayel. 

On the nights where he stays up painting, not a rare occurrence. He’ll enter the bedroom to find your sleeping form nestled beneath the comforter, asleep, waiting for him to join you. 

Your mind had faintly heard the lights click off and you had felt the light rumble of his footsteps coming from his studio, but it ends up to be the creaking bedroom door that finally rouses you from your slumber. 

It’s now midnight, about two hours after you fell asleep. Moonlight illuminates the bags under Rafayel’s eyes and the way he slumps against the door frame. Your eyes follow as he takes slow steps over to his bedside, stripping out of his day clothes to leave him only in his boxers for the night.

“I'm sorry, cutie, you know how busy I get before an exhibition," he presses his lips to yours as he whispers it from behind, pushes your sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“It’s fine, Raf. You know that everyone always loves your paintings. you stress yourself out too much."

“Mm.” You hear the detachment in his voice as he gets comfortable behind you, draping a lazy arm over your waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“...You don’t even care.”

“You’re right…” you feel his lips move into a smile on your skin, as he goes to pull your back flush against his chest. “Get over here.”

He presses his boner, hard against your ass. Warms hands trail down your lower stomach and you lean into his touch. You just can't help it, that your eyes begin to flutter shut, weighed down with sleep. 

“Ah—Raf…” Your own greed seems to consume you. On one hand, it feels like you’re only seconds away from drifting back to sleep; though, on the other hand, you can’t deny the swelling warmth in your lower abdomen. And your body responds to Rafayel's touch before you can think, instinctively pushing your hips back and grinding on his crotch. 

A groan escapes his lips at your actions, his breath hot against your ear. In his eagerness, he quickly releases his cock and slides it between your slick folds—panties pushed to the side. In your sleepy haze, the process feels like an eternity. 

Your body is heavy with tiredness, Rafayel has to lift your limp leg to fully insert himself into your needy cunt. Oh the stretch, it feels like heaven when he finally does, and you both moan at the intrusion.

“Baby… Baby, you’re already so wet for me. Soaking. And I thought you were tired?”

He begins with slow, shallow thrusts as he plants wet kisses along the goosebumps going from your neck to your shoulder. Your walls flutter around him with each one. His hands hold your body tight against his own; one under your shirt and across your tits, flicking at your hardened nipples, and one circling your clit, getting you wetter, hotter, closer and closer to your climax. 

“Aah! Don’ stop, Rafa, baby. Keep goin’ babe…” You slur your sleepy words into the pillow. There's already a puddle of drool forming on the fabric. A result of your jaw going slack from your relentless moans.

“Whatever you wish, princess,” Rafayel continues rocking his hips to yours, his even pace unwavering. The mixture of your juices leaks out of your pussy, dripping down his cock, your legs, your ass, and onto the sheets. Neither of you seem to care. 

You don’t know at which point of the night you fall asleep. You know you fell asleep to his voice. Quiet mumbles full of praise, embedded into your subconscious, into your dreams. You know that he's still inside of you when you do. You hope, by some miracle, you’ll get lucky again tomorrow night.

[lyn31]

I... had a wild imagination. What if, when one of the kids was born. Suddenly there's a fluctuation, meaning that it will be a wanderer inside the hospital. Being a hunter and a mother herself, she can't let the wanderer wound the citizen and her baby who has just been born. So what will Zayne react, knowing his wife just killed a wanderer even after a labor

So I definitely could've answered this just yk, like a regular answer, technically u didn't say this is a request, but this is me so here we are 😂 although I think, I might've, yet again, get ahead of myself...... But I hope u still get to enjoy this! Let me know what u think! 💕

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Welcome to the family!

Summary

After giving birth, you’re forced to face a sudden attack in a hospital, pushing yourself beyond your limits to protect your family until help arrives.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC (mention of Caleb x OC)

Married couple, mention of blood, postpartum, she just gave birth, guys... Cute and silly little family/spouse moment!

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This isn’t your first rodeo. Thankfully, everything’s gone smoother than your first time giving birth—if you ignore the part where your second and third children decided to arrive back-to-back just a few hours ago. You knew, of course—months ago—but actually experiencing it is something else entirely.

Both boys are healthy, even if they came early. The doctors warned you, it’s not unusual for twins to arrive ahead of schedule. Still, seeing how impossibly small they are—smaller than Serena ever was—makes your heart twist in ways you didn’t think it still could.

They’re being monitored in a separate room down the hall. Zayne is with them now, Serena too—she insisted on seeing her baby brothers. Although, she did promise she’d come back soon so “Mummy doesn’t get lonely.”

God, that daughter of yours. As charming as her father. You can’t help but chuckle.

Caleb and Rose had come by to visit, with their own twins—Willow and Jace. Your hyperactive niece and nephew were ecstatic that there’s now another set of twins in the family. They’re probably still around.

You should be resting. You were resting.

Right until the air shifted.

A wrongness slithers down your spine. Familiar. Sickening. Your pulse stutters as the sterile room seems to shrink around you. You feel it—like a wire snapping taut behind your eyes.

Fluctuation.

Somewhere beyond your door, chaos cracks open like a scream.

Sirens blare—sharp, sudden, and too loud. Metal crashes against tile. Someone is yelling. Running. Something growls.

You bolt upright, too fast, and a full-body ache punches through your spine.

“Shit—” You catch yourself on the bedrail, knuckles white. Blood rushes from your head to your feet. Your delivery might have been smooth, but that doesn’t mean you can just move freely now.

You can already imagine the lecture coming from your overprotective husband.

That thought makes you snort—then wince. Still, you grit your teeth, shove off the mattress, and stagger toward the door.

Every step is punishment, soreness burning between your legs. Your hospital gown brushes cold against your thighs, and you’re painfully aware of how exposed, how unarmed, how not ready you are for a fight.

But clearly, the Wanderers didn’t get the memo.

And you don’t have the luxury of waiting.

Either you defend yourself, attack first, or you get torn apart. And you don’t really feel like doing that. Again.

You crack the door open just a sliver.

The hallway beyond is hell.

Red emergency lights strobe against the white walls. Staff are shouting over one another. A nurse is dragging a gurney toward the stairwell. Two security officers are trying to pin down something thrashing on the ground—something that doesn’t move like a person. Glass litters the floor. The smell of burnt metal chokes the air.

Your Evol stirs without you calling it, as if it, too, recognizes the threat.

Deep breath. You need to think.

Your gaze sweeps the room. No gun. No suit. No gear.

You gave birth today, after all—why would you have anything on hand?

Though honestly? Note to self, deliver baby with a tactical kit next time.

For now, focus. You’re a Hunter. You know unexpected situations. You’ve trained for this.

Your eyes land on the supply tray the nurse left behind. Scissors. A penlight. Gauze.

Not great.

Then you see it—the metal IV stand. Tall. Heavy. On wheels. Not elegant, but solid.

You wrench it free from the IV port in your arm with a hiss of pain, wrap your hand around its cold metal stem, and test its weight. It’s not a blade, but it’ll hit.

You stagger into the hallway, bracing your weight with it like a crutch—

—Just as another Wanderer rounds the far corridor.

Your breath catches.

It’s tall, and smoke swirls where a face should be. Jagged bone juts from shifting, void-colored limbs. And it’s heading straight toward the nursery.

Straight toward your children.

“No,” you whisper, Evol flaring through your chest.

You push—or in this case, you pull.

You bend your ability inward, reversing the current like a tidal drag. Your body protests.

But the Wanderer slows.

Its movement falters—limbs glitching mid-step, as if someone sucked the strength right out of it.

“That’s right,” you breathe, taking another shaky step forward. “You’re not going near there.”

The thing screeches—sharp and dissonant.

You raise the pole.

And swing.

You hit it square in the chest.

The impact jars through your arms, rattles your ribs, but the sound is solid—metal against bone. The Wanderer reels back, its shoulder caving inward. A streak of dark energy cracks across its chest like shattering glass.

You don’t let up. Can’t.

Another swing. You hook the pole low this time, slamming it into the back of its knee. It staggers with an inhuman screech.

And just as the Wanderer flails, one of the security guards lunges in with a baton, driving it into the base of the creature’s spine. His strike isn’t strong enough to finish it—but it’s enough to distract it.

“Base of the spine!” you yell hoarsely. “Then straight through the core—if it has one!”

The guard glances at you, eyes wide. You must be a sight—barefoot, swaying, hospital gown soaked with sweat, one hand bracing your side as you limp toward a monster with an IV pole like it’s a damn spear.

Still. He nods and repositions, swinging again.

The Wanderer screeches. Then crumples.

But there’s no time to breathe.

Two more shapes dart from your left—slimmer, faster than the first. One drops low, lunging for the nurse dragging the gurney.

“Left!” you shout. “Down, now!”

The nurse drops flat, barely dodging. You shove power through your Evol, and the creature’s body twists midair, dragged sideways into the wall with a sickening crack.

Another figure hurtles from the smoke behind it, claws outstretched. You pivot on instinct, pain ripping sharp through your abdomen. Your knees buckle, a broken cry catching in your throat—but your Evol doesn’t falter. You pull hard, draining its momentum until it jerks and collapses in front of you. Security piles on it immediately, batons slamming down.

Screams echo down the hall—staff shouting, metal clashing, more Wanderers breaking containment farther away, claws scraping against tile as the guards struggling to hold the line until help arrives. Glimpses of the fight flash in your peripheral, someone sprinting past, guards trying to hold a barricade, nurses dragging the injured to safety. The whole building feels like it’s collapsing into panic.

And you—shaking, pale, barely upright—just keep going.

One more shadow breaks from the chaos, larger than the rest, closing in fast. You raise the IV pole, but your arm trembles too hard to hold it steady.

Your vision tunnels.

You think—maybe that’s it.

Maybe this is where your legs finally give.

And then—

The hallway drops into silence.

Not soundless—but muted. Like the air itself has frozen.

In the distance, every Wanderer—every single one within your line of sight—seizes in place.

Then it begins. A thick sheen of ice snakes up from the floor, blooming beneath their feet, racing up limbs and torsos while they screech. They crack, twitch, and freeze mid-screech, locked in brittle sculpture. Even the one lunging toward the stairwell is suspended mid-lurch, ice clawing up its spine like something out of a nightmare.

And standing at the end of the hallway—chest rising hard, posture taut, hair wind-tossed, shirt rumpled with frost curling off his shoulders like smoke—

Is Zayne.

Your breath catches.

He looks unharmed—aside from the clear exhaustion etched into his face.

His fingers are curled into fists. His jaw is tight. His entire body is too still—the kind of stillness he only falls into when he’s barely keeping control. Thin veins of frost still creep outward from where he stands.

And his eyes—cold and burning all at once—lock on you.

The second he sees you swaying where you stand, blood on your legs, hands trembling around a bent IV pole, his composure fractures.

He’s already moving.

“You’re hurt,” he says as he reaches you, voice low but strained, checking your side, your grip, your eyes, as if making sure you’re real.

“I’m fine,” you lie through your teeth. “How are the kids? Serena? The twins—”

“They’re safe,” he says quickly, gently. His hands skim your arms, your shoulders. “Caleb has them. A deepspace tunnel opened near the twins nursery—Rose and I took care of it. She’s joined the other Hunters who arrived at the east corridor—more tunnels showed up.”

You nearly crumple with relief.

But when you look at his face properly this time, there’s that familiar crease between his brows again, not just worry this time, but a tight kind of disapproval. His jaw clenches, eyes sweeping over your pale, trembling form, down to the dry blood from between your thighs.

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he’s thinking. That you shouldn’t be standing. That you shouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.

But beneath that… there’s something else. That soft flicker in his eyes. Like he’s trying very hard not to look impressed. Not to admit that seeing you fight still does something to him.

You huff. “Lecture later, okay?”

Zayne doesn’t answer immediately. Just looks at you, as if weighing whether to argue or let it go — and then—

A shrill screech echoes from one of the deeper corridors. Sharper. Louder. More Wanderers.

The rest of everyone there stiffen at the sound, eyes darting toward the source. The air is still thick with frost from Zayne’s earlier outburst, but not all of the threats are dealt with yet.

“Okay,” Zayne says quietly — and without warning, he slips an arm under your knees and lifts you off the ground.

“Zayne—what are you doing?!” You twist in his grip, startled. “Are we leaving the civilians behind—?!”

“You’re in no condition to fight,” he says calmly, but his voice is tight. “I’ll handle the rest.”

You scowl. “You’re not either. You’re already pale.” Your fingers press against his chest. “So let’s do this together.”

Before he can protest, you reach out — and resonate with him.

It’s instant, the way your Evol latches onto his—familiar and grounding, like a heartbeat syncing with your own.

You feel it hum through your spine, amplifying his range and sharpening your focus at once. A wave of clarity crashes between you two, tethering your minds with practiced precision.

Zayne exhales, like he’s been holding in everything since the moment he found you. You brush your fingers against his sleeve.

“No need to finish them off,” you murmur. “Just freeze them. The security guard can finish them off for you. Don’t strain yourself.”

One of his eyebrows lifts, and there’s the smallest twitch at the corner of his lips. “Motherhood’s changed my wife.”

You slap his shoulder — not hard, just enough to make a point. “Shut it. If you collapse, I’m going down with you. Besides, this is more efficient.” You glare at him. “Who told you to go full blast on them anyway?”

His hand steadies at your back, voice quieter now. “When you see your loved one bleeding…” His gaze flicks down to your legs, then back up. “Impulsiveness isn’t that uncommon.”

Before you can respond, another group of Wanderers bursts from the far end of the hallway.

Zayne doesn’t hesitate. With your Evol anchoring his, the temperature drops sharply again — ice racing like veins along the floor, freezing them mid-charge before they can even shriek.

Crack—!

One of them shudders in place as a precise violet slash slams through the frozen mass from behind.

You both turn.

“Seriously?” Rose calls out from the end of the corridor, stances lowered, flanked by a squad of nearby Hunters. “You gave birth not even a day ago and picked a fight? What, the contractions weren’t exciting enough for you?”

You snort, too exhausted to manage a full laugh. “What was I supposed to do? Let the Wanderer claw at me while I lie down and breathe through it?”

Rose storms closer, her heavy boots thudding against the cracked floor. She’s got her reinforced gloves on, the knuckles faintly glowing violet — telltale residue of a recent fight. “No, you’re supposed to call for help, defend! Not attack!”

As she closes the gap, a few Hunters sweep in behind her, finishing off the remaining immobilized Wanderers and beginning to secure the area. Some check the wounded. Others relay orders through comms. Something about how this attack strangely feels too organized. But Rose doesn’t even glance at them — she’s not on duty after all. She goes straight for you, eyes scanning your figure in Zayne’s arms like she’s trying to detect hidden injuries with pure willpower.

Zayne, meanwhile, adjusts his hold on you and announces calmly, “I’m calling a timeout. I need to check on my wife.”

“Good,” Rose huffs, arms crossing over her chest as she falls into step behind you both. “Do that while I’m yelling at my sister.”

Still in Zayne’s arms, you crane your neck to glare back at her. “The best defense is a good offense!” You take a breath before continuing, “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“Neither are you!” she snaps. “You’re supposed to be somewhere sterile and safe, not sparring with infected trash on the third floor of a goddamn hospital!”

You groan. “It wasn’t a spar, it was more of a light warm-up—”

Rose’s eyes widen, you can practically see her eye twitch. “Warm-up?! Oh, I swear—”

“Please,” Zayne cuts in, his voice low and resigned. “If you make me slip on ice while carrying my wife who just gave birth, we’re all going to be in trouble.”

Rose just grumbles something about there’s no way he’ll slip on ice and keeps walking, clearly gearing up for another round of scolding. You rest your cheek against Zayne’s chest, the thump of his heart steady beneath your ear.

You’re safe. You’re still together. And you’re still bickering — like always.

Zayne exhales again—not quite a sigh, more like the quiet surrender of a man forever resigned to loving this chaotic family… and defending it at all costs.

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Notes

I'm back! Wooooooo! Who would've thought one month of not writing feels so rusty... Technically I'm in the middle of writing a different one shot but I've been procrastinating....... No judgement fellas!

Oh and! Speaking of, is there anyone that can help me with beta read? 🙇🏻‍♀️ There won't be much to do besides you're telling me how the story feel, I usually do that to my friend but I've been sparing them for the last month and I feel like to do it again now is a bit much 😂 (Especially because they don't play LaDs so it was always in general vibes, which still pretty great ofc!)

Getting another person's view is always nice! I write slowly anyway so it won't be a lot or frequently, DM me if you can! 💕

Other than that see you guys in the next one!

P.S. and ofc my laptop broke down when I was feeling like writing again... So I'm back writing from my phone🤳🏻 So pardon if the layout is a bit clunky ;-;

Here's the series list if you want to read more about Husband/Dad Zayne! Parenthood AU list ✨

[hazyserenityx]

Turbulence of The Heart: Chapter 3

Title: Turbulence of The Heart - Chapter 3

a/u: I recently figured out how to start a taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to it <3

Synopsis: Slow burn. a/u. You’re a first-year junior at Aerospace Academy with a dark secret and a darker past. Your father is the leader of Ever. You were test subject #001. And one day, Caleb found out

Warnings: MDNI please. Minor adult suggestive matter. A few spoilers from Caleb’s Deceptive Solitude card.

WC: 3K. Omg I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it got so long and I just started spiralling.

<< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >> (coming soon)

Prelude: His face was closer now. Closer than it should’ve been. You could feel his breath. His hands were still holding the jacket around you, but it felt like he was holding you up from your exhaustion. His lips hovered just above yours. One more inch. One more centimeter. One more breath…

You dreamt of Caleb last night. You didn’t remember much, but one thing stayed with you: his eyes. A deep, quiet purple, like twilight just before night fully sets in. They were soft, but heavy with something unspoken. Strange how something can feel dark and bright at the same time. 

After last night’s events you’re not quite sure how you’ll react the next time you see Caleb. As you slowly slip out of bed, your finger lingers on top of your bandaged leg, the heat on your thighs still linger. You can still feel the remanence of Caleb’s fingers. His gentle touch as he traces the wound, your skirt slightly lifted. You shake your head to pull you back to reality, reminding yourself…

You’re not pipsqueak.

After freshening up and packing up your bag, you make your way to your morning classes. A couple students in your class approach you, in awe of your performance in the centrifuge from the day before. They invite you to a few upcoming parties, but you politely decline, but after some insistence, you agreed to go to one, the largest party held each year at Aerospace Academy  - taking place two days from now. A quick entrance and a quicker escape, shouldn’t be a problem. 

At the end of class, as students trickle out of the lecture hall, your professor asks you to stay behind.

“I saw your performance yesterday. It was certainly impressive.” 

“Thank you professor” you responded

“You’ve consistently ranked top of the class academically, and your inept skills that you showcased yesterday shows your capabilities. I’ve shared your performance with some of the other professors and we would like to invite you to the Advancement Aviation Program.”

The Advancement Aviation Program was the opportunity everyone secretly hoped for but few dared to chase. Created by the Farspace Fleet, it handpicked the best students and threw them straight into real missions - no simulations, no safety nets. The training was intense, designed to push limits and weed out the uncertain. But for those who made it through, the payoff was huge: early access to high-stakes ops, a fast track to the Fleet, and a career that could take off before graduation. It wasn’t just a program - it was a golden ticket. A potential escape from Ever.

Seeing your hesitation, your professor asks you to take a few days to consider and to let him know by the end of the week.

Focused on your studies, the week went by like a blur. The last time you saw Gideon and Caleb was when you were in their dorm. You message Gideon from time to time, but he’s been busy with his own classes, but agreed to meet up at tonight’s party.

The sky was gray when you woke up, the gray clouds blocking the darker gray skies. It looks like it’ll rain today, but you didn’t mind. Something about the storm always brought a strange sense of calm. Maybe it was because you were used to waiting for things to fall apart.

You moved through the morning routine quietly. You put on a plain white T-shirt, and fitted black leggings before tying your hair up in a high ponytail. The fabric hugged your frame, simple and clean. You look like someone who blended in, someone ordinary. You liked the ordinary. 

You arrive at the shooting range, meeting up with your classmates and waiting for the firearms instructor to arrive. A couple of guys in your class pop over to make small talk with you and several female classmates casting glances your way. Jealousy is a scary thing, you thought to yourself. You prefer to stay invisible. Looking around, there were several classes at the facility. You can hear the slight echoes of footsteps as people make their way in.

The shooting range was actually your escape. Back when you were at Ever, you were trained in armed combat, and were taught to use several types of firearms. But there was something about it - maybe it was the silence between shots, or maybe it was one of the only places where you felt … in control. Which is ironic, considering what they did to you. 

Your instructor arrives and after a short demonstration, you are at the helm of the shooting range. Your fingers wrapped around the grip instinctively, your stance steady before you even consciously thought about it. The world dropped away. Just you, the target and the tight little coil of pressure in your chest that never quite went away. And each time you held a firearm, you would whisper a little mantra to yourself. A voice so faint that only you can hear:

Steady your breathing. Align your gaze, the laser sight, and the target. They should all be at the same level. Feel the subtle sway of the muzzle. Steadily press the trigger with your index finger, applying even pressure…

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three shots cracked through the air - clean, fast and precise. Dead centre. And then, everything went still.

You slowly shut both of your eyes for a few seconds, allowing the moisture to coat your dry eyes. And when you open them, you notice everyone else has stopped. All eyes were on you.

And as you turned around, you noticed two familiar silhouettes standing a few metres away from you: Gideon and Caleb. Among them were a few other seniors, who also have their eyes fixated on you. Gideon’s eyebrows raise in quiet silence, his mouth slightly ajar from the shock of you acing your shots. And Caleb, arms crossed, unreadable expression on his face, but those violet eyes fixed directly on you - like he was solving a puzzle. The attention made your stomach drop. 

Your classmates came over to offer you pats on the shoulder and cheers. Luckily, you were good at masking the panic. The attention was suffocating. You internally scolded yourself for your stupidity. You were supposed to be hiding this. You were supposed to be bad at this. You referred to your shots as beginner’s luck, and during the next few rounds, you purposely aimed everywhere else on the target except for the bullseye.

“Gideon, is she your junior? Introduce her to us! Is she single?” Several of the seniors take notice of your rare talent and they’ll definitely be spending more time at the shooting range. You didn’t notice, but Gideon was pretty upset that you attracted the attention of more people. His chest tightens. He catches himself glancing at you from time to time, looking at your back  in those leggings and a simple white t-shirt, he can’t help but be in awe of you. You’re breathtaking, you’re enchanting, and you’re his.

You got to give it to yourself, you were a pretty great actress. You missed several shots after that. You winced. Shook your head. Played it off like nerves. Eventually, the whispers died down. Someone scoffed, another cadet took their place on the line beside you. Like nothing had happened. Perfect.

You stayed behind after class ended. You told your instructor you wanted to clean your gun, and double-check the magazine count. But that was a lie. You just needed a moment to breathe. The shooting range reminded you of your past life, but at the same time, it gave you a serene peace, one you hadn’t felt in a while since the incident. The anxiety of forgetting to message your father, or the fear of Viper’s unexpected visits gnawed at you for several days now. You took several deep breaths, calming your shaky heartbeat.

The target with your perfect first shots was still hanging there, untouched. Mocking you. A perfect, damning little hole through the center. You hated that it felt good to hit it. You hated that your body remembered how to kill better than it remembered how to feel safe. And you hated that for a split second, holding that gun made you feel like you could conquer your deepest fears. How pathetic.

Suddenly the sound of boots behind you made your breath hitch, prompting you to turn around.

“You’re not new to this” Caleb stands before you, his voice low and calm. Not judgmental, but certain.

You swallowed hard and looked away, why was it so hard to lie to him. Play it cool, you dummy. You couldn’t muster a response.

He stepped closer, enough that you could feel his breath on your forehead, sending shivers down your spine. He’s not touching you but he was close enough that your skin still reacted when you two were together.

“I’ve seen people shoot before,” he continued, “I’ve even trained several juniors. This wasn’t your first time.”

You felt like disappearing at that moment, “You shouldn’t be watching me” You responded, your voice small.

“But I do, and I did,” he said. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Did they teach you to shoot?”

You know who he was referring to. But you shouldn’t bring yourself to respond. Caleb grabs you by the chin to tilt your head up, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He then brings himself closer to your ears and whispers softly words that only reach your ears, his tone dark and low.

“I know you shoot like someone who’s been trained to kill, and I know you hide it because you’re scared of what people would think if they saw the truth” Caleb continues, his voice even softer, each breath blowing warm air beside your ears, and radiating down the side of your neck. “But you can’t fool me, you’re a bad liar”.

Caleb then gradually lets you go. He walks past you, brushing his arms against yours and takes your phone which was lying on the bench. After a few moments, he saves his number on your phone. He looked at you afterwards.

“When you’re feeling uneasy, you have two options. You either hit the bullseye,” Caleb pauses for a moment before continuing.

“Or you run to me”

Run to him.

After everything, you didn’t want to go to the party, but the constant messages from your friends and classmates pressured you to attend otherwise. With a big sigh, you freshen up quickly back in your dorm before making your way over.

Lying to yourself, you thought maybe, for once, it’d distract you from the way Caleb looked at your at the shooting range, and the way his fingers felt on your chin, how his voice resonated in your ear and down your neck, how close his body was that you could feel the heat radiating from it. The way something inside you had shifted - dangerously.

But what you didn’t realize was that practically everyone in the school was at the party. Stupid. How could you forget this was the school’s biggest party, even the school sponsors it. You spotted Caleb from a mile away - laughing, relaxed, drink in hand - making you wish you had stayed in your room. Out of the sea of people at the party, why did he stand out to you? You shut your eyes and sigh again, you’ve been doing that a lot this week.

When you opened them, you saw her.

She sat close to him, too close. She was tall, beautiful, and one of her hands rested on Caleb’s lap. And Caleb’s arm was wrapped around her shoulder, protecting her from harm and the bustling crowds. You suddenly froze, the rest of the room fading into a distant hum. Your chest felt tight in that awful hollow kind of way.

Gideon appeared at your side with a drink, as if summoned by your spiraling. You jumped when he came into view.

“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he hands you a drink. “I’m surprised you came to the party, didn’t think this was your scene. Thought you would bail.”

“It’s not,” you replied, “but I may have gotten peer pressured by several of my friends, but seeing how many people are here tonight, I don’t think I’ll be able to find them”. 

Your curiosity gets the best of you. “Who’s that? I would’ve thought Caleb would be allergic to women with the number of people he’s rejected.”

Gideon laughs at your joke, “That’s MC” he then said casually.

“MC?”

“She’s a childhood friend of Calebs’. They practically grew up together. She’s training to become a hunter and from what Caleb has told me, she’s one of the top in her class. They’ve also been working together on a special mission they were recruited for. That’s why Caleb didn’t take any juniors under his wings this year. But it sounds like things have changed since the last time she visited.”

“Change? How so?”

“He’s been calling her his girlfriend. I mean, they do look like the model couple together don’t you think? You should hear the way Caleb talks about her when she’s not around. It’s like she’s the only one he cares about in the world.”

“Oh” That was all you could mutter. Just oh.

You were suddenly reminded of those three words that Caleb said to you.  ‘Run to me’

But now, all you wanted to do was run away. You made a flimsy excuse and left Gideon’s side. You turned away quickly, praying your face didn’t betray the mess happening behind it. The ache in your chest sharpened. You weren’t supposed to care this much. This feeling was foreign to you, and you didn’t like it. You weren’t even close to Caleb for crying out loud, but the way she leaned into him - and the way he let her - it hurt.

As you walked outside, you were engulfed by heavy rain.

Is this punishment for wanting something that could never be yours?

Cold, sharp and merciless. It soaked through your clothes in seconds, your white t-shirt turning see-through, clinging to your skin like a second betrayal. You wrapped your arms around yourself and kept walking, hoping the storm would help drown out your thoughts.

What were you expecting? Just because he says a few nice words to you? Just because he was the only person you opened up to about your past? Just because he told you to run to him when you felt uneasy? You can’t help but feel stupid and small. And this ache in your chest didn’t go away. But at least the rain drowned out the sound of your muffled whimpers. 

“Hey!” You hear someone calling your name, and you can hear fast footsteps running towards you in earnest. You turn around.

Gideon. He was running towards you, soaked, his styled hair a little messy from the rain and he approached you with his jacket already half off. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to you.

He stops in front of you, catching his breath, eyes flickering over you and your drenched form. And then he froze, and you realized why.

Your shirt. Your soaked, white, clingy shirt casting an outline of your bra. You crossed your arm over your chest, burning with embarrassment. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry you had to see me like this”

“I - I didn’t - shoot, here.” He rushed to pull off his jacket and gently wrapped it around your shoulders. “You’ll catch cold, you’re freezing” The warmth of his jacket envelops you and it comforts your heart. Your chest loosens from the heat.

You expected him to let go of it, but he didn’t. His hands stayed, fingers curled at the collar and brushing against your neck. His cheeks a bit flushed from the alcohol.His eyes not leaving yours. You tried to take the jacket off because you didn’t want Gideon to be cold, but he pulled the jacket tighter around you, his fists slightly brushing against your white shirt.

“Why did you chase after me? You should get back to the party, I don’t like crowds anyway, and it was overwhelming for me. I’m sorry if I worried you”

He looks at you - really looked at you. And for once, the usual calm, collected mask he wore cracked just enough for you to see everything he’d been hiding. 

“Because - Because, for me,” Gideon responds, his voice coming out low and rough. “ Because it was always you. When you walked away, I knew that if I didn’t come after you tonight. I would lose you to someone else, and I would never let that happen”.

You both stood there, breathing hard, rain dripping from your hair, his hands still holding onto the jacket wrapped around your shoulders like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go. 

“I don’t know when it started,” Gideon went on, “but somewhere between mentoring you and seeing you radiating, seeing you smile and watching you hold yourself together when no one else could, I stopped being able to take my eyes off you. I just needed to be near you. Even on days where we just sit together in the library, not talking to each other. When you held my hand for the very first time when we ran together to grab food before the cafeteria closed, I knew I couldn’t get away from you.”

His fingers tightened slightly on the collar of the jacket, eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing the shape of your silence. Gideon looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. 

At that moment, he leaned in, just slightly, like he was waiting for you to stop him. You didn’t.

His face was closer now. Closer than it should’ve been. You could feel his breath. His hands were still holding the jacket around you, but it felt like he was holding you up from your exhaustion. His lips hovered just above yours. One more inch. One more centimeter. One more breath…

<< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >> (coming soon)

Taglist for our Apple pies: @flamedancer13

[lotusdrops-world]

“You know…” Sylus murmurs as he shifts beside you, the soft rustle of sheets and the low hum of rain outside your window filling the quiet space between you, “I’ve been thinking about something.” He glances at you with that lopsided smile of his, the one that always means he’s up to something. Sweet, ridiculous, or both.

You raise an eyebrow, suspicious already. “That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckles, low and warm. “I’m serious. I don’t think I’ve ever put my full weight on you.”

You blink. “Why would you?”

“Because,” he drawls, rolling slightly onto his side, propping his head up with one arm while the other gently plays with your fingers, “I see you lying there, looking all warm and soft, like the perfect pillow, and part of me thinks… I’m just orbiting you, and every part of me wants to give in. To stop holding back and just… land.”

You snort, trying to stifle a laugh, but he’s not done.

“And I’d be warm, you’d be warm. We’d both win. I mean, sure, you might not be able to breathe for a second, but isn’t that the price of love?”

“Sylus,” you wheeze between giggles, “you’re literally over six feet tall. You would crush me.”

He feigns deep offense. “Crush you? Cradle you in overwhelming affection, you mean.”

Then, with no warning, he dramatically flops down on you, all long limbs and warmth, pinning you beneath him with just enough weight to make it feel like you’re being hugged by a furnace.

“See? Perfect,” he mumbles into your neck, clearly refusing to move. “This is love. I’m not moving for the next thousand years.”

You let out a muffled groan, arms instinctively curling around him despite the squish. “You’re lucky I like you.”

He grins, voice already growing sleepy against your skin. “I know.”

a/n: I NEEDED this after reading death and rebirth sylus chapter cuz wtf infold

[syluspeach]

Caleb breaks the headboard…+18(mdni)

Caleb was careful when it came to you.

Unlike the average male, his body harbored enhanced strength that came with having a metal arm. As large as he was compared to you, for the most part, he was able to control himself during moments of intimacy. He was always worried that he’d squeeze you tight enough to leave marks on your skin.

Today was no exception, but he couldn’t help it. His restraint had been slipping with each thrust.

You were just too sweet to ignore. Too good for him.

His dark blue sheets made your sweaty, heated skin stand out. Situated on his knees behind you, his eyes took in the curve of your spine and the jiggle of your ass as it made contact with his hips. Sticky and wet, your skin met each other’s with a nasty smack.

“Fucking hell, honey…so pretty f’me.”

As an erotic moan fell from your swollen lips, the sheets doing the best they could to muffle the high-pitched sound, Caleb felt his metal fingers twitch. The fat of your hip protruded in between his fingers at the sudden shift in his grasp, leading to him curving himself against your back, his right arm coming to rest beside your head.

“Can feel-oh god, right there-feel s’deep, colonel.”

That fucking nickname was his kryptonite and now wasn’t the time for you to be calling him that.

His hand clenched, tugging at the sheets without mercy. He tried to ground himself, tucking his face against your neck and inhaling your scent. That wasn’t working.

“Please…gonna make me cum.” You squeaked out, your hand reaching for the one beside your head. “Gonna cum so hard on your cock, colonel.”

You cried out, feeling rejected as he pulled his hand out from your hold. He unfurled himself from your back and settled with gripping the wooden headboard with his metal arm.

“No, honey…Don’t wanna hurt you-can’t hurt you like that. Too precious to me.”

“But I wanna feel you against me. Need your warmth, Caleb…feel safe with you.”

Pushing yourself onto your knees and reaching behind to curl your arm around his neck, your back met his chest.

His flesh hand remained on your hip, holding you in place as he fucked you open. This new position had your eyes closing as your head fell back. Your moans were music to his ears and they were enough to make his resolve crack.

Tightening his hold on the headboard, his lips found yours, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. He slid his hand from your hip to your pelvis, fingers reaching for the swollen bundle of nerves. Your hips twitched from the overwhelming sensation brewing deep in your belly.

“Fuck, Caleb…I’m gonna-m’gonna cum-please, d-don’t stop.”

Your vision blurred as you came, cunt tensing up as you called out his name. At the same time, Caleb’s abdomen flexed tightly as he spilled his seed into you, groans falling from parted lips.

“S’good for me, honey. Always take my dick so well.”

He remained sheathed between your warm, spasming walls, his release staining your insides. He busied himself with littering your neck with kisses as you came to.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at the state of the headboard.

“Uh, Caleb?”

He pulled away from you, eyes following the direction you were looking at.

There were indents from his metal fingers and a large crack splitting the once-polished wood. As he released his hold on the lumber, little wooden flakes fell from his palm and onto the drool-stained pillows.

He sighed at the sight.

“Well, shit.”

[abyssyby]

off guard on duty

— the big twins watch the little twins for a day and long for what they think they'll never have.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: my babies my angels my loves ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ sylus is just a dad of 4. here's a silly little fic about the big twins watching the little twins. they have a great time. let me know what you think of this one lol, it was super fun to make! enjoy! ❀-urs important heads up for context of this story: kyros and lucian are (my headcanon) sylus's twin boys. around 3 years old at this time.

kieran, luke, lucian and kyros highlight!! | sylus x reader | fluff, angst, softbabysitter!twins, mom!reader, sufferingdad!sylus, bigtwins are also sylus's sons change my mind?? tw: separation anxiety/tantrums, past abuse mentioned (pls let me know if I missed any!)

Don’t drop them.

Don’t lose them.

Dinner is at six.

Easy enough. They’ve gone through more difficult missions before. Covert ones, requiring meticulous planning and great improvisation. 

Kieran prides himself in being able to execute seventeen different kinds of strategies to take down a group of thirty men within 5 minutes. Luke can persuade anyone into doing anything, and eliminate them— without a trace—if they don’t comply. Exceptional mercenaries. Isolated ghosts. Nothing is impossible.

Perfectly capable babysitters, if you ask them. 

How they made the silent twin wail like a siren and the rambunctious one sit still was beyond them.

“Papa!” Kyros screams, blotchy red cheeks puffed and damp bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead. He presses himself against the heavy main door, as if forcing himself to walk through, stretching his little limbs and straining his ankles to reach the knob. “Papa! Papa!” 

“Keero mad.” Lucian blinks, staring at his brother across the room, snuggled against his mama’s blanket. Your scent envelops him, helps him stay calm in your absence. You had left for your mission earlier that day, and Lucian has since finished his little tantrum, as evidenced by his own salt-crusted cheeks.

Luke and Kieran are a mess, to put it mildly. 

“It’s okay, little boss,” Luke tries to say, pulling the toddler away from the door where Sylus had just left from. Kyros gurgles a desperate sound as he weighs himself down to the floor in protest. “Big boss will be back.” 

“Papa!” Kyros cries, calming words falling on deaf ears.

“I don’t think he knows who ‘big boss’ is.” Kieran, equally panicked but hiding his racing heart behind calm breathing, offers. “Little boss, papa will be back.”

Kyros seems to scream louder at that, stomping his little feet and running off to the crevice by the door. He squeezes himself against the corner and sobs. Fat droplets of tears streaming down his swollen cheeks. Heartbreakingly resembling an abandoned hamster.

Kieran’s arms fall to his sides—how? How is this little one such an angel during play time and…? Have they done something to upset him? Does he not really like them? Is this how he finds out that a child can have preferences and can choose not to prefer them? 

Before Kieran can spiral deeper in self-pity and throw Luke off with the swelling emotion in his chest, in their periphery, they see movement from the couch. Lucian, wrapped in his mother’s blanket, waddles over to his brother and gives him a little hug. “Squeezy-squeeze, Keero. No cry.”

Luke blinks at the sight. The realization comes to him in the form of a distant sensation— freezing cold cells, the deafening bang of a metal door and him, anguished and ashamed, crowding Kieran close to the corner of their room where they held one another—high on sedatives— after they had just torn each other apart to survive another day. 

With that, he moves slowly, approaching the little twins with caution and then opens his arms. “Kyros?” 

Lucian makes way, and at the sight, Kyros scrambles over to Luke and buries his hiccups in his chest. He engulfs him in a hug, mindful of the pressure he applies with his arms and how that would translate to a little body like Kyros’s. Pressure, deep, deep pressure tethers him back to them. 

Kyros deflates, nuzzling his wet little face into the fabric of Luke’s turtleneck. He can’t be bothered by the snot, relieved that the boy has begun to stop crying. 

“Papa will be back.” Luke says quietly, making sure to press his lips into the baby’s head so he can feel the sound. Something he’d observed you and Sylus would do to him. “Kieran and I are here.” 

He exhales when he realizes Kyros doesn’t struggle. That he is allowed to comfort him like his parents do. 

“Be back now.” Kyros murmurs, genuinely thinking big, strong Luke and Kieran can do something about it. 

“Later.” Luke assures him. “Just out on a mission.” 

“No, ‘ishun.” he shakes his head, eyes glassy and pleading. “No, pease?” 

“Sorry, buddy, Papa’s work is important.”

“Maybe we can do something else? Like… hide & go boom?” Kieran offers, mirroring the quiet voice and lifting Lucian up into his arms as well. An effort to put them all on equal footing. 

Lucian nods. “Yes.” 

Kyros shakes his head. “Don’wanna.” 

“Okay, that’s fine.” Luke nods, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “How ‘bout the hammock?” 

Kyros shakes his head again, much to their disappointment. 

Kieran racks his brain for ideas. Were it not for the devastation on the little boy’s face, he would have found it funny that he gets to see how Sylus would cry, if he were a small toddler. Lucian and Kyros look so much like Sylus, they might as well be triplets. 

In the corner of his eye, he sees the coat closet open, and an idea is born. “Hey… wanna see papa?” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“Get out.” Kieran rasps, pushing his voice deep into his chest. He stands in an imposing pose, chin jutted out to accentuate his jaw and squinting his eyes to be half-lidded and bored. 

On his shoulders was Sylus’s brown leather coat, on his feet were Sylus’s large shoes and on his head… was Lucian. Serving as a giggly white wig on his hair.

“Give us the brooch!” Luke demands, Kyros in a baby carrier strapped tightly to his chest. He wore your hunter gloves on his thumb and forefinger, far too small, and Kyros held an empty water gun. 

“I hid it, go find it.” rasps Keiran again. Poorly hiding the cough that rips through his chest. 

“Where, papa?” Kyros giggles as he’s swung around. Luke makes exaggerated movements of disbelief. 

“Here.” cough. “There.” cough, cough. He rubs his throat and swallows drily, brows knitting together as he breathes out with great difficulty, “Somewhere.” 

Lucian— a sentient wig, apparently— points to the playroom. Kyros nods in understanding.

“Fine’da boots!” Kyros wriggles, willing Luke to march forward. Luke hobbles into the playroom and puts Kyros down, who dives into his toy box. Kieran follows with Lucian.

“Keero, no there!” Lucian says, scrambling off of Kieran’s shoulders, hitting him in the eye— both big twins wince— and sliding down his leg. 

“Don’t tell him, Cian, we’re team papa.” Kieran chuckles, rubbing his eye as he sinks onto the floor to watch the little twins. Something swells in his chest as he watches the two executing his little mission— an affirmation that he’s done something worth their time.

Luke pauses from searching for a clue. He asks, because it matters to the story, “Wait. Does that mean we’re team mama?” 

“Boots?” Kyros asks, holding up a toy fork. 

Lucian swats it away, “No!” 

Kyros continues his search, asking everyone if whatever he was interacting with was a brooch. 

“Boots?” He asks, bouncing on the trampoline. 

“Boots?” As he slides down the playset.

“Boots?” As he carefully stacks the colored rings into a wobbly tower. 

 Boots? Boots? Boots?

“I don’t think he remembers what the brooch looks like.” Luke finally says, after minutes of watching Kyros turn the place upside down. 

Lucian has since joined, and the moment he pulls out the plastic bathtime boat and presents it to them with a hopeful, “Dis boats?”— Kieran is sure he has forgotten now too. 

“No… uh…” Kieran thinks, lips quirking to the side. He tries to explain what the small, metal pin looks like to the toddlers again. They stare at him with wide, clueless eyes, feigning comprehension. “It’s black and has a bird— a small black bird in the middle,” he says, motioning towards Luke who points at the drawer it was in.

Lucian nods first. “Ohh…” 

Kyros hops up with a newfound fervor. “Bird! Ya, bird!” 

“Yes! Bird! Do you remember n— HEY!” 

In a flash, Kyros has tugged his brother out the door and the pair sprint down the halls. Kieran scrambles to stand, feeling his knees pop at the quick motion while Luke slips and tumbles on the rug trying to get to the door. He blinks back the black and white dots from his vision as he runs.

“Wait, wait!” Kieran begs, listening to the echoes of laughter down the halls to follow. Luke is already swiping through the security camera feed to locate them.

The boss is going to kill them. You’re going to kill them dead. 

The giggles resonate throughout the halls until they are confusing. Kieran swears he hears Lucian down the left and Kyros down the right, but Luke just saw them together on Camera 8. 

“They’re—they’re teleporting!” 

“Do they have evol? I’ve never seen them—did you hear that?!”

“Part boss? Did you spot wings?!” 

“Quiet! Let’s…” 

They stop. An argument between them brews just in the horizon when the silence swallows them whole. 

“Where are they?” Kieran glances at Luke’s phone. His jaw sets. Swipe after swipe through the camera feeds, they finds no trace of them. Luke’s hand begins to shake.

Kieran’s comments don’t help. “… I don’t like that.” Camera 13— empty. “No, no, I hate that.” 

Luke shakes his head as helplessness consumes him. “They’re invisible.” 

“Stop it.” 

Chills trickle down Luke’s spine as he hears faint laughter echo down the halls that he fails to localize. “Were they even real?” 

Kieran shoves his brother. “Listen to yourself!”  

Don’t lose them. 

Before their hysteria escalates— praise be— they hear a very distressed squawking. With a look, they take off left. Boss’s office. 

There they find Lucian balanced on his father’s chair— round belly dented over the head rest, stretching to reach the charging perch, little hands grabbing the mechanical bird by the neck. Kyros stares up, holding the other boy’s legs as to not let him fall. 

“Kee-wan, bird!” Lucian says proudly, wiggling in his already precarious state. Kieran feels his life force in his throat as he rushes to get him down from the chair. Palms cold and clammy, fingers trembling and struggling to get a grip.

Don’t drop them.

“Boots!” Kyros proclaims in a shout. It still surprises them how loud Kyros can actually be. “Pisto boots!” 

“Mephisto was not the br—“ Kieran’s mouth is slapped shut as Luke cuts him off with cheers.

“Little bosses found the brooch!” Because he can’t have them running off to find any other thing they think is the brooch again. He can’t do it. His head is still spinning from his wipe out. He curses under his breath, silently checking— just in case— for little wings. 

The little boys scream in delight. Kieran softens at the sight, silently grateful his brother cut him off. Who would want to miss this? 

He pries Lucian’s fingers off of Mephisto gently and places the bird back on the perch. “Nice job, kids.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Dinner comes at six o’clock. Sylus had put his boys into a routine so well maintained that the sound of the clock striking six wasn’t a bell, but his son’s growling stomachs.

“Papa made you squash.” Luke says, taking it out the fridge and heating it. Meanwhile, Kieran buckles them in their ridiculously luxurious high-chairs. “And fish…” 

Luke pauses at the note written on top of the bigger container of meat and potatoes. Reads: Big Twins in handwriting they’ve only seen on under-the-table-offers, bidding slips and ledgers. He tries not to let it get to him, takes it out and heats it as well.

“Papa home?” Kyros asks, although this time with more curiosity than despair.

“Not yet.” Kieran tells him, giving his shoulders a grounding squeeze.

It doesn’t escape them how they’ve been calling Sylus “papa” all day too. How it came so easily when the adjustment was needed. Somehow they can’t seem to stop. 

Luke serves dinner. Two ceramic plates and two silicone-suction-cupped bowls. 

Lucian’s nose knocks into a palm as his path to his food is blocked. Kieran chides, “It’s hot.”

Lucian blinks at Kieran, who is still wearing Sylus’s coat and shoes, and tilts his head in amusement. Something connects in his head and he giggles. “Like papa.” 

Kieran’s face flushes, and Luke howls in laughter as he takes that in too. He hurls the silicone spoon at his brother like a javelin, and through his laughter, Luke catches it with ease. Straight to the sink it went and a new spoon is handed to Lucian. 

An unspoken truth passes between the big twins, a dawning that settles in them like warm milk on a sleepless night, as they feed their corresponding little twin. 

This is their life now— not just running errands, killing, and negotiating for Sylus, no matter how much they enjoyed that. How that put them into use. How that gave them purpose. A reason to exist in this world that hated them enough to maim them, and strip them of who they were only to throw them away. Because even then, they were still worth nothing. 

Now, in the soft glow of the kitchen light, eating the food Sylus had prepared them, feeding their charges. They see, they hope: this—this is who they are. Not machines, not weapons—boys, brothers, parts of this family. No matter how fleeting it may all be. 

They doubt it, but they feel it. In the way you check up on them when they come back from a mission, in Sylus’s silent but kind regard, in the little twins’ comfort and acceptance. Despite their shortcomings, their differences, they have found a place here. And maybe one day, the masks will come off and they will be nothing, thrown away once more— but what a wonder to have had this all the same.

“Kee-wan, Wook,” Lucian tells Kyros, pointing a chubby little finger at the wrong twin as he says it. Pulling the two out of their spiraling thoughts, different but grounded in the same soil. 

Kyros shakes his head calmly, chewing on the soft squash Luke fed him. He points correctly, “Wook. Keewi.” 

Seeking confirmation, Kieran gives Kyros a thumbs up. The little boy grins a proud orange smile, squash and all. Meanwhile, Luke teaches Lucian the differences— “Kieran’s head is this weird sha—ow!”

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

You’re still snickering at the video footage Mephisto sent you of Sylus lingering on the front door from earlier. Head devastatingly pressed to the wood, a white fist around the handle as his son screamed for him to come back on the other side. 

“It was terrible,” he tells you. His hand hovers on your lower back as you both ascend the pathway to the base. 

You offer him a sympathetic smile and squeeze his shoulder. “I know.” 

“We’re back!” You announce as the door is pushed open. Sylus slips in behind you.

It takes a moment for the footsteps to emerge, but they do. They always do. Only it wasn’t just the two light-footed ones’ you usually hear. Accompanying them was the sound of loud, bounding leather boots. 

“Mama!” Lucian screeches, little legs pumping to get to you. Leading the charge. Behind him, his brother— face scrunched in solemn determination, trying to catch up. Eyes zeroed in on his papa. And behind them…

“Stop! Ow, Mephisto! Kieran, get him!”

“I’m trying— He’s— OW!” 

The mechanical bird nosedives towards the two larger twins who struggle to catch their wards and fight off the bird at the same time. You giggle at the sight, and you hear Sylus chuckle the faintest bit too. 

Both on your knees, you each catch a twin, showering them with affection. Leaving the base for work has been harder than ever since these two gained the curse of existential dread and skill of object permanence. 

“Papa home!” you turn at your Kyros’s voice, who pats his father’s hollow cheeks softly. Meant as a happy report rather than a guilt-tripping accusation. Still, it prickles Sylus’s nose red as he tries to swallow the emotion that rises with the memory of his son’s cries. 

He presses his nose into his angel’s silver hair and breathes him in. “Brave boy.” 

“Mama!” Lucian says, both hands on your cheeks, turning your gaze towards the fumbling big twins. He points, correctly this time to each. “Kee-wan. Wook.”

You squint, taking note of the differences despite their movement and then beam. “You’re right!”

He giggles like a pebble skipped over a frozen lake when you pepper his face with kisses. 

“Mephisto.” At Sylus’s command, the bird ceases. It flutters to a nearby shelf and tilts its head as if nothing happened. 

“Were Kieran and Luke good babysitters?” Sylus asks. Even if he knows, Mephisto having sent automatic updates on his twins’ mishaps.

The little twins nod happily in response, then came the litany of warbles meant to be a retelling of their day. Two baby birds with their mouths wide open trying to string together something coherent. 

You and Sylus catch ‘keewi papa’, ‘boots’, ’boats’ and ‘pisto mad’. Understanding was half the battle when both your boys told stories with such vigor. You struggled to keep them in your arms as they ‘swoosh’ed and ‘fwish’ed, reenacting as if they could project their imaginations to the wall for mama and papa to see. 

Sylus turns to the big twins who listened proudly. Given they had context, they seemed to understand more than the parents did. He raises a brow, squinting slightly at Kieran to make sure, then asks, “Are those my clothes?” 

Kieran jumps, tongue in his throat. “I—“ 

“Looks good on you.” Sylus says so casually it was unbelievable. Lucian nods in agreement, “Like papa!” 

“Wook squeezies.” Kyros mentions as well, pointing at Luke, who had calmed him earlier. He nods in approval, swinging his feet. “Like Wook squeezies.” 

“Looks like you guys did really good,” you commend, walking over to the big twins. You brush a feather out of Luke’s hair, eyes sharp as you secretly check for scratches from their earlier bird-attack. Luke flinches at the contact, and you point at his forehead knowingly. “Ice.”

He hesitates, then gives a bashful smile. Rug. Right. “Oh, that’s… psh.” 

You promise to get him some. And before you forget, you add, “Thanks, guys.” 

“Faithful minions—“ 

“—at your service.” 

The tired grins on their faces make your heart clench. That… doesn’t feel right. The silence that follows is hollow as the weight of their own words settle into the space between them. Is it possible for them to believe that’s all they are? Help? Followers only good for their hands to take orders? The mere thought settles like bile on your tongue. 

You shake your head at the ridiculous notion and prop Lucian up on your hip. “Tell your brothers goodnight, Cian.” 

Lucian extends his arms and Luke plucks him from your hold. Easy and familiar, Lucian presses his forehead on each one’s like a lion cub. “Na-nite.” He whispers.

And just like that, they feel the warmth that radiates off of the little one so overwhelmingly. Just as they do pain, they feel this too— this thing that neither of them have the words for yet. But it is heavy as it is true. Lucian’s hands touching their faces, the gentle repose of your eyes work wonders to cast away old, haunting thoughts of being lesser than or temporary. 

Kieran holds him a little longer. Luke stares. For once, they have no strategy, no words, no logic or skill to make sense of the feeling. Standing there, in silence, they choke on something so difficult to swallow.

You make a mental note to treat them to something fun soon. Hang out with them like you did before the little twins came along. Maybe Luke would appreciate an opportunity to redeem himself in laser tag, or Kieran would like to play a video game again. You’ll make the time.

They freeze when you press a chaste kiss to each of their cheeks, then pass Lucian back into your arms. Without another word, you turn towards the kitchen to hunt for something frozen and something to eat. Nodding along and offering “ah-huh”s and “then what?”s as Lucian’s weaves a colorful, jargon-laced story. 

Sylus follows after you, Kyros already snuggled to his chest with half-lidded eyes and fingers clutching his shirt. He pauses, just as he walks past the twins. A heavy air hangs between them, but it isn’t suffocating. Not tense, or harrowing. Come to think of it, they haven’t felt that in ages. Not since Sylus. 

The air was just… firm. Stable and calm. 

“Thank you,” he says to them, holding their gaze with a reverence that they’ve never noticed before—one they had only ever mistaken for dismissal. But now, really looking, they see it. What Sylus truly feels for them— proven in the trust he had placed in them. Gratitude in the way they cared for his kin, just as he once cared for them; taking them in despite their troubled beginnings.

Pride, in its full glory. 

He is proud of them. 

And as if Sylus sees the gears turn and lock into place in their heads, as if he has been welcomed into their twin loop at last, he smiles—careful and sincere. “Get some rest.” 

Kyros waves a sleepy little hand at them as they go.

Alone, Luke and Keiran turn. Faces reflecting each other. Once never needing a mirror, now taking in the flustered, upside-down smiles pulling at the corners of their lips. They shake their heads at the impossibility of it all. And yet. 

A home, a family. Despite their past, their sins and their scars— 

They are enough. 

Finally, they belong. 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more little twins ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading! 。゜゜(´ｏ`) ゜゜。

[anantaru]

EX HUSBAND SYLUS

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband sylus headcanons

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — fem! reader, oral (fem! receiving), possessive ex husband trope, stalking, voyeurism, pervert sylus, he misses you, hitting it raw, masturbation, fantasizing about you

ex husband sylus who never took his ring off— what he will do instead was pretend he did. to save face in public? for sure. in reality it's tucked away in a drawer— your drawer, the one you used to keep your lip balms and perfumes in as his wedding band lays beside your jewelry. sometimes, when sylus was feeling especially sad, he takes it out and sleeps with it in his palm, mostly when he's feeling lost or conflicted.

ex husband sylus who still uses your name as his passwords and changes them every cycle, frankly, they always consist of things related to you, for example your birthday or favorite pet, most beloved color or nickname he used to call you— one in particular consisted of the coordinates of the place you honeymooned in.

ex husband sylus calls it "muscle memory" when his fingers twitch in that same obsessive rhythm when he dreams about you and the way they used to press against your hips too, fuck, his dream was slowly turning into a particular kind again, eagerly fantasizing on how he used to grip your thighs when he cummed inside you.

ex husband sylus who still watches you, wether it was through mephisto, luke and kieran or when he's got some time to spare himself. he still watches from a distance, not stalkerish in his own eyes— protective if he had to explain it— and well, of course he tracks your location silly, of course he still has access to your security cameras so he always knows when you could be in possible danger. (or when you could be bringing someone else home)

ex husband sylus watches you in agony each night, especially when you're alone— most dearly when you're touching yourself and sylus filthily mouths along with the whimpers you tend to make while bullying your fingers past your hole— fuck, he can practically taste you on his tongue, his teeth sinking into his fist just to stop himself from calling you, just to hold himself back from watching you in such intimate way.

ex husband sylus who wasn't dating, instead, he's trying to feel you again through proxies, through ghosts, yet it's never enough, nothing ever was. and every time he fucked someone else— and well despite it being rare, he's always thinking of you within it, pretending it's your soft cunt he's feeling, fingering someone and saying your name, or getting head while his brain replays the exact angle of your throat and how you adored taking him when lastly, finishing into someone's mouth, then plastering it back onto their face because it just wasn't you.

ex husband sylus who runs into you in public— by chance or "chance" when he immediately plays it cool with his signature crooked smirk and head being slightly tilt, that's how you knew him, casual as ever. regardless, what you do not see was that his hands were shaking and afterwards, he goes home hard, ever so frustrated and fists his cock until he's feeling dizzy, saying your name over and over like a prayer and a curse at the same time. this is when sylus realizes that he will never get over you and you could so much as brush past him, his dick will twitch like it remembers, and obviously it does, it always does.

ex husband sylus who dreams about the filthiest version of you, no matter how many times it's always the same— he fantasizes about you apologizing and sobbing, begging him to touch you again after the divorce was settled and in his dream, sylus doesn't speak, he just pins you down with that glacial calmness inside of him and fucks you deep and rough, until you scream his name the same way you did the night he proposed to you.

following this, when he wakes up at last, there's cum all over his hand and funnily enough, he hasn't even touched himself, in fact, his body doesn't need to anymore, at this point you're carved into his nervous system.

ex husband sylus who sends you encrypted messages, believing that you do not know that it's him. okay, at first you really thought you had gained a new stalker besides your ex husband, considering they came through systems you no longer used— apps you've forgotten, channels buried in layers of old code.

honestly, you think you're dreaming when you hear your old ringtone late at night— but he's there, typing while watching you, bleeding through the digital static like a ghost in the machine.

"you wore the red silk dress last night." "you touched yourself at 2:17 a.m. i almost came just hearing you." "i will never stop being yours."

yes, it's a bit creepy, so you delete them, but they always come back.

ex husband sylus who believes that, well, perhaps you two weren't a good fit on paper, but in bed? fuck, he's never felt peace like that again. on the outside, you were sweet, yes, but filthy, so fucking sexy that you used to ride him with both hands flat on his chest, whispering the nastiest shit into his ears— telling him how thick he felt in your tight cunt or how impossibly big he was, how much you needed his cum or how your cunt ached when he didn't fuck you hard enough, not to mention how full you liked to be of his warm, sticky cum over and over.

sometimes you'd even edge him just to watch him break apart right underneath you, letting him whimper and beg you to be able to spill himself inside your soft pussy. and what happened when you finally let him have it you ask? obviously you'd kiss him slow and open mouthed, your tongue tenderly dancing around his own, "i love you sylus," you whine as he cums untouched from that alone.

after all this time, he's never forgotten that night.

ex husband sylus who still uses your shampoo as your scent lives in his hair whenever he showers. sylus still uses your old bottle— down to the last dribble as his entire bathroom looks like a shrine of things you love— one of your old towels still folded on the rack like you're coming back, like it belongs there, because to him, it does.

ex husband sylus who, when he jerks off— daily, violently, he uses your lotion, the one that smells like your favorite scent, the one his nostrils would pick up on when he was deep into your guts. now, when he fists his cock and heaves out your name, nose buried in the sleeve of your old dress you forgot at his place, he's moaning like he's losing his mind, his cum dribbling all over his knuckles and making a mess only you, in his mind, were capable to clean up with your tongue.

ex husband sylus who's furious that you're letting anyone else fuck you— and listen now, even if you didn't, even if it was just a rumor, sylus seethes just imagining you spreading your legs for someone else's hands, not to mention someone else's mouth. when he comes across the rumor of you finding another partner, he doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat either— yet when you see him again by chance, there's something unhinged in his gaze, not angry of course, but hollow, like the version of him that once smiled has been overwritten with cold calculation.

but all it took was your voice, one tremble, one "sylus…" and he cracks again, immediately grabbing your face and saying, "don't ever make me think you've moved on again," as he suffocates the space between your lips to finally kiss you after all this time, with tears beading his lashes at being one with you again.

this wasn't supposed to happen, originally you just wanted to nod politely and pass him like strangers in a city that once belonged to the both of you, pick up the things you've left in his house and be gone for good this time. yet he said your name— your name, not the ghost of it, not the public version people used, but the one he whispered against your bare skin and suddenly you were trembling like a violin string plucked too hard.

fuck, he kissed you like nothing had changed, like it hadn't been months, like you hadn't signed papers with hands that wouldn't stop shaking now, like your lawyer hadn't had to slide the pen back into your grip, the same grip that was now entangled in his hair. after all, you could still remember when sylus stood across the room and refused to look at you, his jaw clenched so tight you could hear the bones grind.

his mouth still felt the same— dangerously soft and wickedly sure, feeling like memory, yet tasting like sin, as if his regret was set on fire. yet your body responded before your mind could even catch up and process on what was happening— your hands messily in his hair, your nails digging and dragging him into you, your lips parting because he needed to be let in.

you hated him, no, you loved him, fuck, you hated that you still loved him.

he drops to his knees and eats your pussy like he's starving— no prep, no teasing, just tongue fucking you with brutal, obsessive precision. you're gasping his name, thighs shaking around his head and cunt clenching on nothing, yet he doesn't stop even when your knees buckle and your hands fist through his silver hair.

you cum on his face that night, multiple times in fact, because he won't stop until he feels you sobbing, "you taste the same," he drawls hoarsely, wiping his mouth on your thigh, "fuck— you taste like you're still mine," as you're soaking him, messing up his chin with your slick when you're riding his face. sylus pins you open like it's a crime to let you close, eating you out like the only thing that could ever satisfy him was the sound of your wrecked little pussy and the way your slick stained his tongue so fucking nicely.

ex husband sylus who hates condoms now, you barely used them when you were married yet tried to be responsible, although now? he rips them from your hand, "we were married, do you think i care about this?" as he pushes his cock through you in one raw, thick, unrelenting stroke. he fucks you like it's the last time— because perhaps afterwards you might remember that you're still divorced and shouldn't be doing this.

everything that crossed sylus's mind right now was that if he doesn't fill you up, he'll lose you again. fuck, he's angry, but he doesn't know why, or maybe he just wanted to be mad at something— wanted to pretend it's not desperation that guided him, no aching grief that was wrapped in jealousy and lust as he could never forgive himself for letting you go.

in this moment in time, he's inside of you again and it feels like heaven— fucking you like the resentment's burning through his spine, and even though he was still mad, it's lost somewhere within the brutal rhythm of each thrust shattering your body. his hips crash into yours with punishing force as his nails bite deep into your soft hips like he's holding onto something that just kept slipping away.

and the sounds you're making, fuck, you must be joking, the slap of his balls against your ass repeatedly echoing the wet squelch of your cunt receiving his blows again and again— it made it impossible to think, let alone say his feeling out loud. and when he cums? he watches it leak out of you with a look of silent lust before greedily shoving it back in with his fingers, "i want it to stay," he whispers, "i want you so full that you have no other choice but to dream about me."

ex husband sylus who knows you were the only thing that ever calmed him down, the only one who could ever talk him off the ledge when his voice cracks with static and fury and guilt, you were the one that got under his skin and stayed there. but with you leaving? it wasn't just heartbreak, it was a full system collapse and now he's running on fumes as he just wanted to grab you forever, drag you back into his bed and his world, his hell, you could say, and ruin you all over again.

and ex husband sylus didn't want to lie to you, really, didn't want to pretend you had left something inside his house because he hated you, no, he wasn't selfish either, it's not your body he wanted, you have to believe him on that one— but because he still loves you with the sickness of a man who has never known how to live outside of your orbit. the way a dying star didn't simply fall into gravity— it clung to it the same way sylus clasped his arms around you this very second.

ex husband sylus's love was just like that, you see? like something terminal, like your absence alone was a wound he himself repeatedly presses into, over and over, just to remember what your warmth used to feel like.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[loveanddeepthroat]

Baby Blues

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - In the first two weeks of being new parents, the dynamic hasn’t been quite what you and Sylus expected. He’s eager to be involved, but your daughter doesn’t seem to have warmed to him.

Word count - 2.7k

⚠️Warning⚠️ - Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Hurt/comfort, fluff, and a little sprinkle of angst.

Your newborn didn’t like Sylus.

It sounded ridiculous, but you know he was thinking it too. You didn’t have the gall to say it out loud—not that it even needed to be said. The fact was definitely lingering between you both.

You never thought much of why she would wriggle and kick up a storm in your stomach whenever he touched the swell of your belly, but you now had an inclination that it was because she didn’t like his hands there.

It was strange and upsetting, but he didn’t seem too hurt by it so far, only silently helpless as he watched you do everything. You were two weeks postpartum, so your emotions were already all over the place. It seemed as though Sylus was holding his own feelings back to make room for yours, and when you had asked him about it, he simply kissed your forehead and reassured you that he was fine. All while your screaming daughter cried for you against his chest.

Not that he opened up to you all that often. You did manage to get things out of him with a push sometimes, but he was like an unyielding gate, refusing to open to anyone.

Your exhaustion was only adding to the toll on your fragile emotions. The baby only wanted your touch, and sleep was almost impossible for you because of that very reason. Only you could feed her. Only you could soothe her. Only you could touch her.

That was one thing that was really getting to Sylus. The bloodshot whites of your eyes as you rocked the fussy newborn to sleep and fed her at all hours of the morning. The barely touched plates of food that ended up stone cold and in the bin. Not to mention the completely non-existent ten minutes you needed to at least have a wash without having to run out of the shower to her aid.

He must have felt quite useless in the weeks where you should be recovering, but he didn’t want you to worry about his feelings by indulging you in his thoughts. 

Your pregnancy had been smooth, ending with a good twenty-seven hours of rather torturous labour, and pushing that went on for an agonising two hours. It had all been worth it, though. Your little bundle of joy with tufts of platinum hair had finally greeted you both with a piercing wail, but eased her protests once placed against your heaving chest.

You just wished she would settle with both parents.

It was another day of desperate wailing, your arms becoming so heavy with the exertion of having no option but to hold her. You tried to put her in her pram for Sylus to push her around for a while, but her cries only increased to the point of her little face turning purple. You couldn’t sit and just listen to it, and you absolutely would not ignore her—no matter how much Sylus pushed for you to go and get some sleep.

“She wants me,” you say for what felt like the millionth time that week.

Sylus was evidently reluctant to stop trying, but he wouldn’t keep you from her. He conceded with a defeated huff, watching your every move as you gently lifted your screeching daughter out of the plush pram. Her screams died down quickly as you placed her against your chest, her ear-piercing wails whittling down to soft whimpers.

“Of all the dangerous paths I’ve crossed and violent challenges I’ve encountered, it’s our newborn daughter who finally defeats me,” he mumbles quietly, trying to make a lighthearted joke about it.

You tried to smile at his attempt to add a bit of humour to the situation, but the comment only made you cry. Hard.

“Hey.” He immediately stepped toward you, rubbing a large hand up and down your back soothingly. You had to give it to him, his patience with you in the last two weeks had been immaculate. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”

You couldn’t stop, your ragged breaths and shaking shoulders refusing to relent. “I d-don’t get it,” you bawl. “What are we doing d-differently?”

Sylus sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand continued to rub soothing circles against your back to ease your upset. “Well, she did live inside you for nine months. Besides, you didn’t exactly like me either when we first met.”

He smiled faintly, tilting his head down to capture your gaze. Despite the obvious tease, he still seemed to be holding himself back. It was frustrating him more than he wanted to admit to you. You knew he was protecting your feelings, but you wished he would just show some sense of vulnerability.

You don’t dare set your sleeping daughter down in her moses basket, knowing full well that she would just wake straight back up. So the rest of the afternoon is spent with your tiny newborn curled up against your chest, a few feeding and changing breaks in between.

Once the day turned into night, nothing in the world sounded more appealing to you than a hot shower, a hot meal, and a hot cup of tea. But letting her scream and cry while you did that was not an option. It wasn’t fair on her, and it wasn’t fair on Sylus.

He didn’t leave you unless he absolutely had to throughout the day. You watched him every time he heard a little whimper from the baby, his hands flexing and twitching. Every time you had to get up to do something for her, he was either at your back or side.

He wanted to help.

The chef brought through a very large bowl of marinated chicken and pasta for you, upon Sylus’s instruction. As soon as the bowl was set on the little table beside your recliner chair, you almost began drooling. You hadn’t managed to eat much at all in the chaos, and Sylus wasn’t amused when you didn’t even get the chance to finish the two biscuits he’d brought you earlier in the day.

You reached a careful hand over to the fork, not even lifting it before your daughter began to wriggle and whine in your other arm. Dropping it immediately, you retract your hand, only making it halfway back to the fussy newborn before long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“No,” Sylus says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Your initial response is to immediately go on the defence. “She’s cry—”

“I know she’s crying,” he interrupted tightly. “I know. But you’re going to eat while your food is hot, and you’re going to do it without our screaming daughter on your chest.”

“But—” 

“No buts.”

He had that commanding look in his eye, the one that would intimidate most, but was only used on you when he was especially adamant on you doing something necessary for yourself. 

You were a little relieved to see him so passionate, if you were being honest. He had been treading on eggshells to not upset you or the baby for fourteen whole days, and it wasn’t good for anyone. You felt the tension on him every time you both managed to get into bed together for more than five minutes. He needed this little outburst.

“This needs to stop now. I’m going to figure her out, and you are going to eat. Alright?” His tone left no room for argument, and the more your daughter protested against your intention to eat, the more hungry and tired you felt.

It wasn’t easy, but you handed her off to him carefully, swallowing a lump in your throat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her distressed little face as Sylus attempted to cradle her.

You were practically twitching, your legs about to push the footrest of the recliner down to retrieve her in the first thirty seconds she was away from you. Sylus noticed immediately, and pushed it back up with his foot before you could close it down fully.

“She’s not in any danger,” he said calmly, but his whole body was visibly tense. “She’s right here, I won’t leave the room. Just eat, sweetie.”

You wanted to protest further, but he wasn’t going to yield this time. His eyes remained trained on you until you finally sagged back into the chair, and it wasn’t until you picked up your fork that he finally turned away, focusing on the distraught newborn kicking up a storm against his chest.

He held her the way you did, one hand cupped over her head to keep it steady while the other hand softly patted her back. Why she didn’t want to be near him was an utter mystery to you, he wasn’t doing anything incorrectly. 

You couldn’t eat while the two most important people in your life were quite clearly in a distressing situation before you. “Are you alright?” You asked him gently, hoping that he would answer you.

“I will be if you eat,” he quickly responded, not looking at you.

Sighing, you stab a slice of the chicken onto your fork, just looking at it for a moment. Your brain had managed to kick itself into gear as you forged a new approach to his silence. 

This was an opportunity to head in the right direction.

“I’ll eat if you speak to me.”

Blood red eyes shot in your direction, an eyebrow raised. “Blackmail?”

You quickly shook your head. “You were right, this does need to stop. Starting with you shutting yourself off from me.” 

“Eat.”

The forked piece of chicken points straight at his unamused face. “Talk.”

He shook his head a little in clear annoyance, the stress consuming him. Your daughter continued to wail, immune to the warmth and safety of his arms. He was basically trapped after promising to remain in the room with you.

Your bleary eyes held his irises of rubies, neither of you conceding. It was a mental challenge to ignore the fragrant aroma of garlic and fresh basil beneath your nose, but you were not eating until at least one of the two beautiful people before you had calmed down.

Sylus visibly swallowed, finally giving in as he noticed your lack of a bluff. “Do you think she knows?” His voice was quiet, barely heard over your newborn’s cries.

“Knows what?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, nodding his head towards the piece of chicken on your fork. You shovel it into your gob, eager for him to continue.

His eyes flicker down to your daughter before he speaks again. “Do you think she knows that I’ve done terrible things? Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like me?”

“I—” you grumble and roll your eyes as he nods to your plate of food again, waiting for you to take another mouthful that you end up having to speak through, “I don’t see how she could. Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

The corner of his mouth curled upward ever-so-slightly. “Missing my tongue, kitten?”

You couldn’t help your own smile as his shoulders sagged a little from where they were practically touching his ears. It wasn’t often that he opened up to you like this. You almost always had to pry or throw in a proposition to coax him into speaking.

You took another bite of your food, moving the plate from the small table to your lap. “Do you really think she doesn’t like you?”

His smirk faded away quickly, a gentle thumb brushing over your daughter's head. She continued to cry, but the volume had dropped a little. “Do you not think that?” He asked.

You didn’t know how to answer that question. To tell the truth, you did think that, but not for the same reason he was thinking.

“I think she may be a little attached at the moment. We’re very different shapes and sizes. Maybe she feels—”

“Unsafe?” 

His tone had dropped an octave—something you didn’t think was possible considering the already bone-chilling vibrations of his voice. Never before had you witnessed him in a state of such vulnerability. He was insecure about this, and it was finally starting to show.

You went to stand up to be near him, but he immediately stepped forward to halt your movement.

“Eat.”

Not wanting to lose this free-speaking Sylus you had barely met before, you did as he said, twirling a fat mouthful of pasta onto your fork for extra brownie points.

You both remained in silence for a few moments, only your fork scraping against the bowl in your lap marrying with the sounds of your baby’s cries surrounding the small sitting room.

Sylus’s gaze didn’t leave the newborn cradled in his arms, a gentle sway in his hips as he tried to keep her moving. All you could do was study his composure, seeing it as it cracked.

After a moment, he looked back at you. “I don’t want to keep failing you.”

You coughed on the mouthful of the creamy pasta at his words, completely in awe of his confession.

Failing you? How did he get to that conclusion?

“You’ve done everything for her,” he continued, not allowing you to immediately reassure him. “I want to be able to do everything, too. For both of you.”

The all too familiar sting in your wet eyes built in intensity by the second, and you quickly found yourself sniffling.

Not only was he insecure about your daughter not feeling safe in his arms, but he felt that he’d failed you both in the past two weeks. It was heartbreaking for you to hear.

“Don’t cry—”

“You’re…fuck, Sylus. You’re not failing anyone,” you tuck your fork back into the pasta with a loud sniffle, ignoring his glare that silently demanded that you continue to eat. “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”

He looked entirely reluctant to answer, his head dropping back down to stare at his tiny twin. You didn’t want him to stop speaking again, so you quietly picked your fork back up, hoping it would capture his attention.

The silence stretched between you as you made the effort to eat for his sake. Even your daughter's cries became a little weaker—like she was pitying him.

He didn’t look at you as he said, “I’m the bad guy. The boogie man. The kind of monster that parents threaten their kids with visits from in the middle of the night if they don’t brush their teeth before bed.”

“Not in our story, you’re not,” you quickly reassured him earnestly. “You’re the husband and father who keeps the monsters away from your family. That’s the only Sylus she will ever know. The real one.”

He still didn’t look up from the newborn, now almost completely silent in his arms, but you catch a subtle bob in his throat. You didn’t need him to respond to you. You knew you had said the right words to soothe that self-deprecating thought in his complicated mind. You could see it.

“Have I told you how perfect you were two weeks ago,” he asked, knowing full well that he’d told her every day since then.

Your mouth curled into a soft smile. Even after all these years together—after welcoming your first child into this scary, yet beautiful world—Sylus had no trouble giving you butterflies.

“I think you might’ve mentioned it,” you hummed softly.

And on that very note, the baby was fast asleep in his hold for the very first time in two whole weeks. His face didn’t reveal anything, but you knew he was relieved. All he wanted to do was make this easier for the both of you.

Finally, you had managed to figure out what the problem had been all this time.

“You were too tense,” you point out quietly, noticing how openly at ease he now was. “That’s what she didn’t like.”

He hummed in response, unable to tear his gaze away from the sleeping babe in his arms. You didn’t say anything further, letting him enjoy that special moment in peace while you proceeded to enjoy the rest of your meal.

Despite the challenges of becoming new parents, things were going to be alright from that point onwards.

A/N - Hello! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot, thank you so much for reading. Just to let you know, I do take requests ❤️

[madamechrissy]

Ebb and Flow

Pairing - Rafayel (LADS) x F! reader

Summary- Rafayel is being a BRAT, as usual, and asks you to just leave after a day out together. But then you realize he just doesn't feel good - turns out, Raf is actually in heat, whoopsie! - (This is from the ebb and flow memory of course, I just started falling for Raf HARD and here I am, making him fuck you during heat) 3.5k wc

Warnings - needy, desperate Rafayel, he has a breed kink like a mf, fingering, oral sex (f receiving) he really really needs to drink you all up, creampie, mating press, rougher sex, pleasure dom raf, but he's lowkey a switch hehe, pwp w/feelingsss

This is my first time writing him hehe, I have brainrot from Ebb and Flow :')

Rafayel is moody, pouty and just outright rude today. After all his antics, you're honestly not even mad he is asking you to just leave him alone. "Just go, ugh," he pouts as he crosses his arms, slouching down on his couch, the breeze of the warm air blowing his hair just so.

"You invited me out you know, I had shit to do today. What's up with you?" You cross your arms right back at him and he glares over at you.

"Well now I don't want to do anything, that place was boring, and it's so hot, ugh!" He collapses back on the couch, glaring over at you some more. "Why are you still here?"

"You're such a brat I swear, why do I put up with you?" You tug at the purse he's laying on now, and he doesn't move, just clicking his tongue and smacking your hand.

"Stop touching me!"

"I'm not you idiot, I need my bag." He pouts again, sighing and sitting up, letting you yank it out from under him. "You know what next time you come over I'm kicking you out."

"As if I want to hang out it your tiny fishbowl of an apartment."

"Rude! We can't all be millionaires." You scoff and sling your bag over your shoulder, shaking your head at the pretty, bratty man you are currently dealing with. He is usually fun and cute in his needy nature, it's off for him to push you away, but he seems to just be so done with everything today and whining about the heat.

"Are you still here?" He says then, shutting his eyes, you roll your own and shake your head.

"Bye then, my god," you turn to leave when he snatches you by your wrist, dragging you onto his lap and burying his face against your neck, making you feel just how hot he is. "Raf you're like a freaking space heater, what's going on?"

"Don't go," he whispers now, you get whiplash from him, sighing and putting down your purse, turning in his lap to look at him. "Stay with me."

"You're the most frustrating man, you know that?" He pouts again, and you instantly feel sorry for him, especially when you see sweat breaking out on his brow. "Are you feeling sick?"

"I'm fine... I'm just cold. I need you." He's got you tugged against him so tightly you're wincing at it, he's so warm you're sweating.

"You're not cold, you're burning. I need the thermometer- let me go, would you?" He's shaking his head now, pressing his lips on your skin, shocking you as he sucks it into his mouth, you feel your nipples tighten, gasping at the sensation.

"Mmm, just stay here, would you? Don't leave me, ever."

"You just kicked me out you know - mnh." He's got his big hands taking over your body, slipping down your waist, as he looks up at you, his eyes all glazed over, lips parted and glossy. You swallow nervously. "Can I get you a towel or something, you're all sweaty."

"Don't leave," he says again, confusing the shit out of you and nuzzling you right over your breasts now, burning your skin, thumbs now slipping right over your ass, and you feel your body react to his touch, his nearness. "You can't leave me again."

"I've never left you kicked me out, remember bratty boy?" You keep the tone teasing, biting your lip and gripping his broad shoulders while his lips decorate your collar bone with feverish kisses.

"I'm cold, need your hands everywhere," he takes one and puts it on his chest, you feel his heart racing.

"R-rafayel? What's going on?" He moans and whines out, rubbing his face all over your neck as you feel his head, burning up, his breath tickling on your neck, fingers brushing down your breasts softly. "You're sick, we need to take care of you."

"Mmm, you're so warm." He whispers, nuzzling against your neck, plump lips brushing your skin as you tremble, thighs pressing together while you touch his forehead with your lips.

"You need something for this fever, let me go get some water or something- ah! Raf!" You try to get up, but he pouts at you, yanking you by your wrist until you're sprawled on top of him, right between his spread thighs, his eyes are a dark violet, narrowed into a glare. "Let me get some!"

"Need you all over me," he's tugging you impossibly closer, wrapping strong arms around you, when you feel just how hot and hard he is under his dark slacks, making your cunt heat up and earning his moan. "Thirsty."

"Then let me get water! Raf what... ah!" He's pressing hungry kisses all along your chest, the two of you have gotten closer but you haven't stepped over that barrier just yet, your body responds to the hot fingers slipping up your skirt, his kisses hungrier as he finds your cunt over your panties. "Mnh!"

"Your heat, need to bury myself in it," his voice is drugged, his elegant fingers slipping under your panties to find your slit, already embarassingly wet. He looks under long lashes, sighing. "So thirsty."

"R-Rafayel, we need to cool you down and get you a drink. Is now the time for- mnh!" He's slipped two fingers deep in your cunt, stretching you and making you gasp, head falling back for more of his messy kisses. "Fuck..."

"Found the perfect source of heat, and so wet f'me, hmm?" you barely register as he flips you on your back, face flushed red from how over heated he is on his cheeks, your thighs are trembling on either side of him as his lips hover over yours. "Aren't you, cutie? gonna admit it? how much you want this?"

"I... you... you're delusional," you press on his chest and he smirks just a bit, lips even closer, pressing his cock against your soaked cunt, you feel how hard he already is, making your cunt throb around nothing. "I'm... you're..."

He kisses you then, while his hands are firm on your wrists, pinning them down and making you whine with just how much you're craving him, hips rolling up for more without even thinking. His tongue slips right into your mouth, possessing it, as your thighs press on either side of narrow hips.

"You're already soaking me," he whispers, the window is blowing in more of that warm, sticky air, the water gently brushing the sandy bank in soft waves as he kisses lower and lower, tugging on your top to reveal a pretty breast. "Look at this art."

"Ah!" You're at a loss as his mouth sucks in a peak, his eyes so dilated they're black as he sucks hard, one hand pinning a wrist while the other brushes down your body, up a thigh. "You really don't feel good, shouldn't we wait-"

"I'm tired of waiting," he huffs, usually so goofy and silly, there's none of that right now, only pure thirst, kissing further as he tugs at your top. "Take it off, now."

You don't expect the commanding tone, you lean up just a bit, but it's him who damn near rips your top off, freeing your breasts that sway just a bit for his gaze. He's slipping your skirt up your hips, licking a trail down the center of your skin, whining out as he gets closer to your heat.

"You're so warm here," he kisses your waist, nipping along your ribcage, finally getting his burning hot lips on your inner thigh, making you moan, the sound just making him harder. He's rutting his thick, leaky cock against the couch now, dying to paint your body in pretty patterns of white.

He can't stand how pretty you are like this, the sweat dripping from your body, leaving you in a pretty sheen, your skin just glistening for him as he eyes your cunt in those panties. You're so wet they're literally pressed up and sucked against you firmly, so he can see the soaking wet outline of your lips.

"Look, so much for me to drink already," he laps at your panties, your hands go into his dark violet locks before you can even think about it, the sensation torturous. "Mmm, you're wet for me, just me, aren't you cutie?"

"Who else you - Raf oh my -" He's yanked your panties to the side, baring your cunt for his eyes to feast on, watching the arousal gush from your hole now. "You're..."

"Thirsty." He repeats, brows low over his eyes as he watches you right as he licks a stripe up your slit, making you scream out, hips jerking up. He pins them down with his big hands, pressing a hungry kiss on your hood, tip of his tongue lapping more of the juices flowing, making your eyes roll back.

"Sensitive there- mmm!" He's honing in on it, lifting your hood with those artist's fingers, exhaling as he spots your little clit, licking in a slow, torturous circle as he watches you wriggle and squirm, your hands yanking his hair even tighter. "Ah!"

Rafayel slips two fingers back in, you feel the callouses pressing right on your spot as he curls them up, lashes casting shadows on flushed cheeks as he laps you up while he's slotting them inside you. You're screaming out now, uncaring as it echoes and carries outside to the private beach, earning his mouth getting even hungrier as he feels how hot your cunt is inside.

"Raf-ngh! There, please, fuck..." You're past caring, yanking on his hair and lifting your hips up for more, earning his groan as his cock starts leaking pre against silky boxers, sticking as your arousal drowns his mouth. "M-gonna- ah!"

"Cum then, let me drink all of it," he leans his cheek on your thigh for a moment, staring right at you longingly, still curling the fingers that your cunt drools on. "It'll make me feel better, cutie."

"You're crazy, I swear," he pulls out his fingers right before you cum, leaving you shaking, breathless and on edge. "Back in, back in, please."

"Now you're so sweet, hmm, fuck you're so warm," he's buried his tongue inside you instead, and you're lifting your hips up for more, as his hands press into your hip bones, lifting you like it's nothing towards his face. "Use me, that's it just do whatever you want to me, I'll let you."

He's too much.

You're done now, his straight nose bumping your little clit as the lavender highlights of his hair brush against your sensitive inner thigh. You're lost in the sensations, in his slurping like he is in a desert drinking you as if you're the only source of water, tongue so long inside your walls when he drags you even closer, letting you tug his head closer.

"Suffocate me, that's it," he's whispering, muffled on your cunt as you feel the pressure built in your tummy, his hot mouth and fingers bringing you even further, until you shatter all over him. You scream out as you gush all over Rafayel's pretty face, but he's drinking it all up so hungrily, slurping and moaning sounds obscene. "Ngh..." you hear him whining right with you, sipping every bit of your juices up in his mouth.

"Oh my god I- ah!" You're shaking as the orgasm washes over you, and he leans up then, face coated in your slick, kissing you with your sweetness on his plush lips, you taste yourself, hands slipping down his hard body hungrily, finding his cock and watching his eyes flutter shut. "Let me make you feel good too-"

"Need to be inside you, now," he huffs, swatting away your hands when you try to touch him, leaning back so big over you, his white dress shirt hanging so you see all of the muscles of his chest. "Need to breed you."

"Need to what now?" You're so disoriented, you barely get a chance to process his naked body, his hot and heavy cock slapping against his flat belly button when he stands, you go to touch him again and he smacks at your hand, making you giggle for a moment.

His glare just gets you more excited, gasping as he picks you up with one arm like it's nothing, carrying you over to the bed now, he throws you down on it, drenched in sweat now, chest heaving up and down as he tugs off your skirt, leaving you bare to him.

"Part of me wants to cum all over every inch of your body," you go to touch his chest but he pins your wrists down again, hands burning your delicate wrists as your breaths come in quick pants, so ready to have him inside you. Though looking at his long, pretty cock you're not even sure how it'll fit. "The other part needs to fill you, now."

"What is going on with you today!? Are you sure you're okay for any of - ah!" He's let your wrists go just to press your thighs up, smushing them against your breasts and looking at you with hungry, dark eyes.

"Fill you up, have to," he's like in some insane trance - a heat - you gasp when he presses his tip in, moaning as you grip it, the pretty pink of him stuffed inside your slutty, eager hole, looking down at you and sighing. "Beautiful."

"Raf you're really big and- oh fuck," you're whining as he gives you inch by inch, so slowly, your hands gripping his fancy, expensive sheets, soft as you crumple them, eyes rolled back in your skill. "So big I..."

"You can take it, all of it for me, hmm? All my cum, have my babies," he's shoved his cock fully in, tip slamming your cervix, you struggle to maintain any sense as it fills you so full, so hot and pulsing as it fills you. He leans on your thighs now, looking down at you folded for him. "Look at me, now."

"Mmm..." you try to open your eyes, so full of him, his hair falling over his brow as he moves then, pumping you so full of his cock, hitting spots in your walls you don't even know exist.

"That's it, fill you up, can you take me, all of me?" His words are hungry and desperate, whines from the back of his throat while he moves, harder and harder, thrusting so deep and losing himself more and more in you, that sweat from his burning hot body dripping onto your skin as his hands press your thighs down. "Can you?"

You manage a little nod as he exhales, fucking into you harder, whining out as his leaky tip presses your cervix, bottoming out inside you. "Rafayel! It's too much, mnh!"

"You can take all of me, can't you?" He lets your legs fall to the side, leaning low over you, the heels of your feet settle into the muscles of his lower back, his hands gripping your face. "I need you," you nod weakly, cunt gushing as she tries to stretch to accommodate, he slows the pace, kissing you again, and your hands slip up his biceps, nails pressing in, making him hiss. "You have claws, hmm?"

"Maybe," you whisper, eyes locking, and he loses it at just how pretty you are, kissing you again as he lifts a thigh, steadily fucking into your cunt deeper and deeper, rolling his hips just so and making you cum all around him.

"All that wetness, all that heat, I need it," his voice is so deep now, husky as he feels your aftershocks, watching your face so fucked out, mouth wide open, eyes rolled back. "Need you to look at me."

"F-fuck..." you hear it, the neediness, cunt pulsing around his cock still, opening them just a bit and slipping a hand up to his face, he takes it with his own, so big compared to yours, sighing.

"You're so beautiful, I wanna put so many babies inside you," you barely register what the fuck he's on about, it all feels too fucking good. He's starting to thicken, leaning up and bracing himself with one arm, the other finding your clit again. "Cum again, need all of you."

You're blinded when you make a mess of him, of his fancy sheets, cunt gushing so much wetness it's ridiculous, all for his eager eyes that are so dilated you no longer see the purple of them. He smiles as he looks at it, pulling that thumb and sucking your juices off it, before slipping up to his knees, grabbing your hips.

"Ready to take it all?" He whispers, you manage a weak nod as he cries out then, his head falling forward as he thrusts so deep inside you, cock pushing ropes and ropes of white filling you.

"Oh my- mmmh!" You're trembling as he fills you, he leans over and rests his head on yours, crying out hoarsely.

"Perfect, so warm, so wet, god I'm never leaving," he's in some fucking insane trance again, but you can't complain, not when he's lapping that cum out of you in just a few moments, not when he's murmuring - "again"

"Again!?" you whisper, he flips you over, nodding as he's fully hard and ready once more, pumping you so full you feel him everywhere, you're gasping as he presses you down into that bed, prone over you.

"Need more," he keeps whispering, lost inside you, feeling you trembling underneath his artist's fingers, painting you with little bruises as his mouth leaves love bites. After that he's got you cleaning up in a bath, but he can't stop himself from having you ride him, cunt so sore you're whining.

"Raf, what is going on... is this normal!?" You whisper after he's hard again inside you, he's cum at least four times and he's twitching inside you gummy, slick walls as he pulls you closer, water splashing all over your bodies and softly undulating as he bucks his hips up. "Ah! Raf..."

"Need you again." He whispers, you're lost in every sensation, curious just what has happened to him.

In the morning however, he's bright eyed and grinning, he's bought every donut known to man, they all like stupidly fancy, and he's got you your favorite boba.

"What... was that last night?" You wince as you stand up with his help, dressed in just one of his fancy silk dress shirts. He brushes fingers across all the marks he left, wondering if you're still dripping his cum. You touch his forehead, finding it cool again. "So weird, you were burning."

"You fixed me right up." He's smirking all adorable and charming, pulling you close. "Ready to eat, cutie? I got your faves."

Rafayel is bratty and silly as usual, pouting when you steal his favorite flavor of donut and leave him none of it, but when you go to leave later he gets really pouty. "I've got to work you know."

"No, don't go, please." He tugs you against him when you try to walk out the door. "I'll pay you way more to hang out with me today."

"Rafayel..."

"You can use me again," he whispers in your ear, smiling when you turn around and glare. "However you want, just don't go."

"You don't have a fever anymore you're fine now," You look back and he slips his fingers down your body, you tremble as all the memories of the night hit you slowly, making you heat up. "Oh fine."

"Yay!" He's all cute until you're right back under him, and he's painting your pretty body with those white ropes of cum, murmuring - Mine - over and over.

okayyy I just started rly getting into Raf so I hope you all enjoyyy <3

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoblue-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[umamaki]

Rafayel who really likes to be marked as yours.

Rafayel who leaves the house with a red kiss mark on his cheek every single day. What's more, if one gets close enough, (a privilege that only you have) it becomes clearer to the observer that even his lips are slightly stained a lipstick shade of red, and slightly the scent of cherries.

Rafayel who absolutely refuses to leave the house unless you give him his kiss goodbye. He simply can't help it, a non-negotiable. He'll pout, he'll sulk, he'll make it your problem if he makes the journey all the way to the front door without you following for his goodbye kiss.

He especially loves the days where you have makeup on, not because you look less beautiful without it, but because of how your lipstick lingers on everything your lips touch. The rim of his favorite mug, the head of your toothbrush that sits next to his, the backs of each of his finished paintings, his cheek, the collar of his white blouse. It's proof of your presence. It is the most intimate detail to him, the trace of your love.

Your hand was whacked away the first time you had tried to wipe your lipstick off his cheek. He had said something about not messing up the art. He has sported his now signature lipstick stain ever since. Never in the same place, and not always as prominent as other times.

He goes to each of his art exhibitions this way. And just as he intends for it, everyone notices. No one brings it up to him, but they notice, and they wonder. They wonder who is so lucky to send him off with a kiss each day, and have him show it off with so much pride.

Then one day you walk in and it all clicks. By the middle of the exhibition, the showroom has filled up and Rafayel had already begun talking to his patrons. The energy shifts with your presence, Rafayel's especially, with the way he immediately turns to you with lit up eyes. The crowd instantaneously knows that you're behind the kiss marks on Rafayel's cheek.

"There you are, Cutie," the audience becomes ignored as Rafayel gravitates to you like a lost puppy, spinning and kissing you as if it were second nature. He pulls away with another dark stain on his cheek. "Ah, ah, don't wipe it yet, let them see." Such a possessive lemurian.

[sushiyuzu]

emotional support

warning: fluff + tension — your boobs become soft!sylus’ emotional support 🙈 [ x fem!reader ]

- second acc: @blushpawss

you were relaxing on the bed after a long day, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when you heard the door creak open. without looking, you knew it was sylus. you could tell by the way he moved, the quiet confidence in his steps, the aura he carried everywhere he went.

“hey,” you greeted softly, glancing up at him with a small smile. “everything okay?”

he didn’t respond right away. instead, he just stood at the edge of the bed, his usual stoic expression fixed on his face. crimson eyes locked on you, but there was something softer in them, something vulnerable he rarely showed.

before you could ask again, he moved. in one swift motion, he climbed onto the bed, gently pushing you back until you were lying down. his movements were deliberate, yet there was no urgency—just a quiet need.

“sylus?” you asked, your voice holding a hint of confusion as he positioned himself on top of you, his head resting squarely between your boobs.

“don’t,” he murmured against your chest, his voice slightly muffled by your shirt. “just... let me.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how soft his voice sounded. usually, sylus was the picture of control, always so serious and composed. but right now, he was melting into you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight as if you were his lifeline.

“okay,” you whispered, feeling your heart swell with affection. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. “you wanna talk about it?”

he shook his head, his face completely buried in your chest now. “no. just need this,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “need you.”

you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was being. despite his tough exterior, sylus always had this soft, clingy side when it came to you. it was a side he didn’t show to anyone else, a side he only let out when he felt safe in your presence.

“rough day?” you asked, your fingers automatically threading through his silver hair, stroking it gently.

“you have no idea,” he muttered, his voice muffled by your chest. “the meetings, the arguments, the constant surveillance... it’s exhausting.”

you chuckled softly. “and i’m your emotional support pillow now?”

“more like emotional support boobs,” he mumbled, pressing his face even deeper between your breasts, his voice filled with that rare, teasing warmth he only used with you. “they’re soft... and they’re mine.”

“oh, they’re yours, huh?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“absolutely, kitten,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your skin as he spoke. “this is the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

you felt a warm flutter in your chest at his words, your hands continuing their gentle path through his hair. “well, if it helps, you can stay like this as long as you need.”

he didn’t reply right away, but the way his arms tightened around you spoke volumes. sylus was never the type to openly ask for affection, but you could always tell when he needed it. and when he did, he clung to you like this, as if you were his anchor in a world that constantly demanded his strength.

“i don’t deserve you,” he whispered after a long moment, his voice low, almost vulnerable.

you frowned, lightly tugging at his hair to get his attention. “hey, don’t say that.”

he finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you with those intense crimson eyes. there was a flicker of something raw in them, something he rarely let anyone see. “i’m serious,” he said quietly. “you’re too good to me. i don’t know how you put up with me.”

you rolled your eyes, though your heart ached a little at how sincere he sounded. “because i love you, you idiot,” you said, smiling softly as you cupped his cheek. “and you’re not half as bad as you think.”

his gaze softened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he was memorizing your face. then, without warning, he dropped his head back down, once again burying his face between your boobs.

“whatever,” he muttered, his voice muffled again. “i’m staying here forever.”

you laughed, your chest shaking as you tried to wiggle beneath him. “sylus, you’re heavy!”

“deal with it,” he grumbled, nuzzling further into you. “this is my safe space now.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, though you were smiling the whole time. “you’re ridiculous.”

he didn’t say anything, but you could feel his lips curve into a small smile against your skin. for a man who always had to be serious and strong in front of others, sylus was the clingiest, neediest person when he was with you. and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“you know,” you said after a moment, “if anyone else saw you like this, they’d never believe it. mr. serious, always-in-control sylus, reduced to a cuddle bug.”

he made a low sound of protest, tightening his hold on you. “don’t care what anyone else thinks,” he mumbled. “this is just for you.”

your heart melted at that. despite all his tough talk, sylus had such a soft spot for you. you were the one person who could break through his walls, the one he trusted with his vulnerable side.

“i’m glad it’s just for me,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “i love this side of you.”

he didn’t say anything, but you felt his fingers gently trace the curve of your waist, his touch light and reverent. for a while, you both just lay there in comfortable silence, his body completely relaxed on top of yours, his face still nestled securely in your chest.

“don’t ever let me go,” he whispered after a long while, his voice soft, almost sleepy.

“never,” you promised, your hands still stroking his hair.

he sighed in contentment, his breathing slowing as he settled more comfortably against you. “good,” he muttered, his voice drowsy now. “i’ll always need you.”

you smiled, feeling a warm glow of happiness spread through you. “and i’ll always be here.”

he nuzzled you one last time before drifting off, completely relaxed and at peace in your arms. and as you held him close, you realized just how much you loved this man—the serious, strong protector everyone else saw, and the soft, affectionate, clingy sylus that only you knew.

[xoey101]

zayne is definitely the kind of man who enjoys dressing you every day. 

you wake up damn near the crack of dawn to get ready for work, and he’s up as well, always eager to help despite his own obligations.

you’ll shower sleepily, stepping out completely naked, but he never expects sex when he’s helping you put your underwear on—he just wants to be of use to you.

he’ll stand behind you to hold up your white collared shirt, waiting patiently as you shrug in to it. adoring you silently, he’ll admire how effortlessly beautiful you look in even the simplest uniform.

if need be, he’ll iron your pants to crisp perfection, taking his time to press out all the tiny creases. he’ll help you into them, making sure the zipper is pulled up taught and the button is fastened securely.

he’ll kneel down, sliding a pair of matching socks over the heels of your feet before slipping on your hunter’s boots so the he can lace them up. he’ll even pat your ankle gently when he’s done, smiling up at you gingerly, waiting for a small nod of approval.

even after you’re fully dressed, zayne takes the time to help you choose a pair of earrings when you’re feeling truly indecisive, expertly explaining why one pair would or wouldn’t match your hairstyle. his attention to detail is impeccable; that keen eye of his never fails you.

at the end of the day, zayne just loves you so much and wants to make your life a little bit easier however he can.

a/n: currently crying, only 2 days left on raf’s banner and i haven’t gotten his card

send help

[starmocha]

it was always you [Sylus/Reader ★ 10.6K words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] [part 2 of but if it’s forever, it’s even better] “A baby… A baby. Baby. …you’re pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.” A/N: I let Tumblr peer pressured me into writing a part two. ❤️ there is also an epilogue-ish part three…that I am still polishing up, so uh, give me another three weeks?????

You had always known Sylus was a man of his words. He had made it known time and time again that he would never flatter you, never betray you, and most certainly never lie to you, so when the man himself promised that he would get you pregnant, he was going to get you pregnant.

“Sylus—ah! I…I might already be preg—ah!”

You bit down into his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clinging to him and clenching tightly as he continued to drive into you mercilessly, showing no sign of stopping or easing until you were both finished. You cried into his shoulder, gasping and moaning needily, as he spread you more, taking you in deeper and just hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

“Ohhh…” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to even remember what you were about to say.

“Can’t be too sure,” Sylus said with a wolfish grin, pleased to see you such a quivering mess beneath him, cheeks all flushed red and eyes dazed with complete lust for him. Even though he could hear you protesting feebly, your body was betraying your true feelings, easily and eagerly taking him in.

“Sylus—!”

Sylus covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling the noises, but the feel of him still relentlessly thrusting in and out of you nevertheless had you helplessly moaning into his hand, your eyes looking up at him with tears brimming in the corners.

“Careful, sweetie,” he chided, smirking, “Wouldn’t want your neighbors to know what we’re doing, right?”

You moaned into his hand again, the feeling of him pounding into you had robbed you of all other coherent thoughts or even any feeling of modesty, your only focus in this moment was on him, the way he spoke, and the lewd noises of him fucking you. You whimpered and gasped when he removed his hand, but just as quickly your sounds were swallowed by his mouth as he greedily devoured your cries. When he pulled back, a string of saliva connected the two of you. He gazed at you haughtily, completely obsessed by the dazed look you gave him.

He chuckled darkly, his hand cupped your cheek, gently caressing you. “Then again,” he murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously, “I don’t particularly care if anyone hears us.”

He kissed you again. “Going to give me an heir?” he murmured, his tone holding shades of a light tease.

You tried to glare at him, but he laughed it off. “You are insufferable,” you griped, but almost immediately after you said that, he purposefully thrusted in harder, watching with amusement when your eyes rolled to the back of your head again, your pleased moans countering your earlier annoyed tone.

“What was that, sweetie?” he teased.

“Sylus…” you whined and gripped his arm pleadingly, “I can’t take this anymore—how—oh, god—how much longer?”

His eyes darkened, taking in the sight of you shaking with pleasure beneath him. He had been pushing you to your limits, taking you whenever he could, as often as he could. His own breathing grew shakier, his thoughts wandering, his eyes glazing with desire.

Not until it’s confirmed.

Not until…you’re round and heavy with my child…

I need to keep breeding you…until you’re pregnant…

Gonna fill you up, knock you up…

Need to see you swell…make you mine…gonna fuck my child into you—

“Fuck—” The thought of you carrying his baby had him coming quicker than either of you expected, and you whined at the feeling of how full he was making you feel. It was too much, and yet, your own body wanted more, wanted to milk him until he was empty, until his seed flooded your womb completely.

“Sylus…!”

“Fuck, sweetie,” he panted, his large body hovered closely over yours, only held up by his forearms as he stared into your eyes as he emptied himself into you. He kissed you roughly, his frenzied words coming out in between sharp gasps of breath, “You’re going to look so fucking pretty with my baby in you. Won’t be able to keep my hands off of you—gonna feel you up, fuck you again and again—oh, sweetie…”

You whimpered against his kisses, his dizzying words making the blood rushed straight to your head. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him tightly as you felt his body relaxing against yours. “Sylus…I feel so…full…”

He groaned as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt him nibbling on your skin, felt all of his body heat against yours as you both slowly settled down from your shared euphoria.

For the next few minutes, neither of you spoke, the only sound heard in your bedroom was the two of you steadying your breathing. Then, you heard Sylus speaking up: “Let’s rest for a bit,” he said, pulling out of you and laying facedown next to you, his arms slung protectively over your stomach. He peered at you with a weary smirk, saying, “We’ll continue again later…”

“What? Again?” You startled at his words, eyes widening in shock as you exclaimed, “We’ve already done it three times tonight!”

“Oh, sweetie, you know I have a big appetite—in more ways than one.”

He hungrily kissed you, your small face held in his large hands, his touch gentle, but his kisses were ravenous. He parted, giving you a moment to catch your breath, but his words did nothing to calm your racing heart: “And when it comes to you,” he husked, “my craving is never satisfied.”

“I can never face my neighbors again…”

“Good. You should come live with me in the N109 Zone anyway.”

“You can at least pretend to sympathize with me for one minute.”

“I wouldn’t know how. Being empathetic is not in my nature, sweetie.”

For the next few weeks, you fell into a strange routine. If you weren’t in Sylus’ bed, then he was in yours, and while you would often protest against his enthusiastic advances, eventually you would always succumb to your desires, letting him have his ways with you to his heart’s content.

With so much going on, you didn’t notice the telling signs at first.

Fatigue? Work had been hectic lately.

Nausea? There had been a bug going around the city.

Tender breasts? Perhaps you were about to have your period.

Except…that was when you realized your period never arriving. You went over the dates, checked the calendar three, four times, as you did the calculations in your head.

You were late.

Your heart sped up, hands already resting on your lower abdomen. Your nerves were in bundles, thoughts haywire.

You…might be…

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

With Sylus’ baby.

Several pregnancy tests later, you stared at the row of pregnancy tests on your bathroom counter neatly lined up with identical results: Positive. You were pregnant.

You sat down on the edge of your bathtub, hand once again feeling your flat belly. So many thoughts ran through your mind, so many questions weighing you down. You had, more or less, planned this, but now that it was a reality—now that you were pregnant with Sylus’ baby—you felt nervous.

You couldn’t even pinpoint the reason for your anxiety. It was just a combination of so many different things, and while you could just continue to sit and mull and worry on your own, you knew you would rather go see Sylus as soon as possible. Taking a look at the late time, you decided first thing tomorrow morning, you would head over to the N109 Zone and see Sylus.

For now, you hoped a warm shower could help calm your nerves enough for you to sleep through the night.

The following morning, you woke up early to do a few chores around the apartment before heading outside for a quick walk to clear your head. You walked around the block, silently rehearsing in your head the different ways you could make your announcement. The previous night, you had ended up staying up later than intended, browsing videos and social media posts about how other people had made their pregnancy announcements. While many of them were cute, some even ingenious, you felt they didn’t seem right for you and Sylus.

As you approached your apartment building again, still lost in thoughts, you heard a caw nearby and instantly frowned, mumbling to yourself, “Oh, no…”

After a quick scan of your surroundings, your eyes caught sight of the familiar metallic wings flapping overhead before a certain mechanical crow landed on a nearby tree to perch, his eyes staring straight in your direction. You gritted your teeth in annoyance before you calmed your breathing. You slowly exhaled, forced on a sweet smile, and then called out to the mechanical crow in a sing-song voice, “Oh, Mephie~ who’s a pretty birdie?”

Mephisto gave you an indignant caw, and you feigned hurt, pouting at him. “Oh, don’t be like that, Mephie,” you cooed, “We’re besties, remember?”

Mephisto shuffled on his perch, cocking his head at you in confusion.

“And as besties,” you continued, taking off your rings to dangle in front of the crow, “We should be nice to one another, right? Help each other out, even?”

You could have sworn you saw the gleam of interest in Mephisto’s eyes when he noticed the shiny rings you were waving at him. Gotcha, you thought, pleased that your plan was working out.

“These rings,” you said, holding them out in the palm of your hand, “for your silence on this matter.”

Mephisto looked up at you confused.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” you scolded the crow, folding your hand and gripping the rings tightly. “You are not telling Sylus about my pregnancy before me!”

You opened your hand again, holding up your bribe as offering. “Now, do we have a deal, Mephisto?”

You grinned when Mephisto eagerly and greedily seized the rings, giving you a nod before flying away with his new treasures.

You quickly headed inside to get changed. While Mephisto did seem to agree to your bribe, you still would rather head over to the N109 Zone as soon as possible to share the news with Sylus before any other mishaps could happen.

It was eight in the morning when you finally arrived at Onychinus’ base in the N109 Zone, an area constantly shrouded in darkness and where the entire concept of time felt utterly meaningless. It was also when Sylus would be asleep, seeing as his schedule and yours were polar opposite. Sylus tended to be in foul mood whenever he was woken up during his sleep, so you really should let him sleep for a bit longer. It almost didn’t seem right to wake him up so suddenly and, in according to his schedule, so early.

But then you remembered your recent bouts of morning sickness was all his fault, so you grinned and barged into his home loudly, startling Luke and Kieran who were lounging around in the dining area.

“Miss Hunter! What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Kieran rose from his seat in a chair while Luke remained seated on the table.

“Yeah, Boss is still asleep,” Luke added, “W-wait, where are you going?”

You grinned and ignored the twins who both gotten to their feet to trail after you nervously as you headed in the direction of Sylus’ bedroom.

“W-wait, Boss is going to be pissed if he’s woken up at this time!” Luke grabbed your arm to stop you, and you peered up at him with a startling sweet smile. Even with the mask covering his face, you could sense how nervous he was, whether it was because of the prospect of waking Sylus up or your frighteningly cheerful smile, you weren’t sure.

“It’s alright, you two,” you cooed, voice so saccharine it made them wonder what you were up to. You continued in a chipper voice, “He’s going to be thrilled by what I have to tell him.”

“Well,” Kieran started, scratching his head thoughtfully, “Miss Hunter does have him wrapped around her finger…”

“Right, Boss practically grovels at her feet—wait, don’t tell him I said that!”

By this point, you were already outside Sylus’ bedroom with the twins a good several feet away staring at you with mild horror. You quietly shooed them away and watched with a smile as they slunk back to the dining room while muttering among themselves. You couldn’t be bothered to care about what they could be whispering about.

You exhaled slowly, and then quietly opened the door, peering into the dark room with caution. Your eyes scanned the large bedroom, checking for any distractions, any oddities that could ruin this planned perfect moment.

“Good, Mephie is not in there,” you mumbled to yourself when you noticed the empty bird perch. You made a mental note to find something extra shiny for the mechanical bird for keeping his end of the deal. You continued your quiet surveillance, and when your eyes finally landed on the bed, you found Sylus asleep under the cover, seeing his chest rising and falling steadily.

You grinned.

As you tiptoed into the bedroom, you couldn’t help but noticed a large stray feather of Mephisto was laying on the floor. Your grin widened as you picked it up and made your way over to Sylus’ bed.

He was sound asleep.

He looked so peaceful, almost ethereal, even.

You smiled and leaned closer, using the feather to tickle his face.

Sylus stirred with an annoyed groan.

You quickly suppressed a giggle. Just as you were about to tickle his nose, Sylus opened his eyes and you startled from seeing his red irises so suddenly. Immediately, you let out a shriek when Sylus unexpectedly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into bed with him.

“You shouldn’t have snuck in here like this, sweetie,” he chided, holding you firmly to him.

You struggled in his embrace, but Sylus simply smirked, showing no sign of letting you go any time soon. “Who provoked who first?” he questioned arrogantly, giving your thigh a light smack.

You glared up at him, exclaiming, “Is that any way to treat the woman carrying your baby?”

He paused.

He stared.

And then he spoke—voice so rough, so dry.

“A baby… A baby. Baby. …you’re pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.”

He had unconsciously let you go, barely noticing when you knelt next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. You watched with delight, seeing the normally calm and haughty crime leader having a complete brain malfunction as he attempted to process your news, his eyes darting back and forth from your face and your stomach. Several emotions flashed across Sylus’ eyes ranging from confusion to surprise to shock before finally settling on joy—absolute, complete wholehearted joy.

You gasped when he pulled you into his firm embrace again, your face pressed to his chest as you felt his hands rubbing you up and down. You whined against him and he looked down at you completely delighted. His lips instantly pressed against yours, silencing your cries.

“We’re having a baby,” he murmured again, still not quite registering the words, finding them to sound so foreign on his tongue. “My god, we’re having a baby…”

“How many times are you going to say that?” You looked at him with a pout and he just grinned at you again.

“Until you give birth.”

You instantly blushed. “What are you saying—”

He sat back, leaning against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You watched as his large hand lay over your still-flat belly curiously. He shook his head in disbelief, huffing quietly, “A baby. There’s a baby in there…”

“Y-Yeah…” you mumbled back, still finding the whole situation surreal as well. It was your body, but even you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that you were now carrying a new life inside you. Your eyes rested on your stomach. It was still so flat. How could a baby be growing in there? How could you get bigger?

You tilted your head a little, your questioning thoughts starting to drift to a new direction. You wondered when you would start showing. When would you start to feel the little kicks and movements? How big were you going to get? Were you having a boy or a girl? Would Sylus truly love you like this—

You teared up. Sylus immediately noticed and looked startled.

You started crying.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Sweetie, why are you crying? Why are you upset?”

You were immediately pulled into his embrace, his hand automatically rubbing the back of your head gently to soothe you as you cried against his chest. You heaved and sobbed against him as he mumbled comforting words, hoping they would calm you down.

“Did I do something?” he questioned softly, feeling helpless when he felt you shaking in his arms, unable to calm down or speak clearly.

You shook your head.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

“N-no…” you mumbled feebly against his chest.

“Then why are you crying? Sweetie, talk to me…”

“I-I don’t know…”

Sylus peered down at your head and smiled gently. “I think a certain kitten is fibbing.”

“Quit it…”

“I will if she tells me why she’s crying.”

You grumbled against his chest, protesting quietly when he pulled you back to look at your reddened face and puffy eyes. He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your fresh tears as he shushed you gently. You sniffed.

“I’m going to get fat…”

Sylus looked confused.

And then he laughed.

“Ah, so is that why you are crying?” He chuckled, “Sweetheart, you are not going to get fat.”

“I’m going to gain weight!”

“For our baby,” he emphasized. “The baby is going to be growing inside you.”

“You’ll stop loving me…”

Sylus immediately frowned; his earlier mirth disappeared in that instance. His eyes narrowed in anger as he spoke coldly, “What did you say?”

You clammed up, unprepared for his entire demeanor change. You let out a shaky breath when Sylus grabbed your chin, gentle but firm, and held your gaze to him. His thumb brushed over your trembling lips as he spoke, his tone leaving no room for arguments, “I won’t ever stop loving you.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but the way he said those words so evenly, so softly and resolutely, they rang loud in the large room. Your heart pounded in your chest, his icy gaze on you rendered you speechless, making you forget about your earlier insecurities. He leaned his face closer to you, his lips just a breath away from yours. “If anything,” he continued, voice dropping lower, “I’ll love you even more.”

You whimpered when he captured your lips, his sweet kiss a binding seal for his ardent words. When he parted, he pressed his forehead to yours, his voice still breathless and unyielding, “Don’t ever question my love for you again.”

Your eyes lowered, embarrassed by your earlier outburst. You nodded obediently.

The room was quiet as you and Sylus remained still, him waiting patiently for you to calm yourself. Meanwhile, you felt your cheeks reddening as you replayed the last few minutes in your mind, your embarrassment growing stronger as you realized how silly and ridiculous you were being.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m having mood swings already…”

“No kidding…”

“What did you say?!”

“My kitten,” he answered, kissing your forehead. He lay back down in bed, pulling you on top of him gently. Your head lifted, your protests dying instantly when you caught sight of his sweet expression, eyes closed and a pleased smile on his face. Your heart instantly melted, any residual doubts lingering in your mind disappeared the moment you heard him sighing blissfully: “We’re having a baby…”

“Are you sure you don’t want to let people know Onychinus’ leader is your baby daddy?”

“I’m sure.”

“Sure-sure, or pregnancy-brain-I-might-change-my-mind-again-sure?”

“Sure-sure.”

“Positive?”

“Positive!”

“Really—”

“Sylus! Absolutely, positively, undoubtedly 100% sure!”

“Mood swing?”

“I will melt your vinyl collection.”

For the longest time, it seemed your belly continued to remain flat as a board, making even you yourself doubtful about whether or not you were truly pregnant. If it weren’t for that first ultrasound you got at your prenatal visit, you probably would have dismissed the whole thing as a false positive.

However, the moment you saw that small speck on the ultrasound photo, the moment you caught Sylus’ own surprised expression, you both knew that this was real. Your lives were changing in the most astoundingly beautiful way possible, and no matter how much you both may prep for the arrival of your bundle of joy, you knew nothing would ever be like before.

How wonderful, you thought.

One morning, early in your second trimester, you noticed a slight rounding in your middle after waking up. You cautiously touched it, startled by the feeling of the curve. You could have sworn that just eight hours earlier, you still had your flat stomach, but right now you could definitely see a distinct difference, see the way it was beginning to shape and fill out. You touched it more firmly, still unused to the surrealism of this moment.

“It’s…happening…” you muttered to yourself, still trying to come to terms with this reality. You startled again when you heard your phone ringing.

It was Sylus, wanting to video chat. You answered immediately.

“Good morning!” you greeted him.

“Morning,” he yawned back, and you realized it was probably his “night” time now. “I just wanted to check in on you before you went to work. How are you feeling?”

“Good!” you responded brightly. Possibly a little too brightly, because Sylus immediately raised a questioning brow.

“‘Good?’” he repeated, crossing his arms in confusion. “How’s your morning sickness?”

“Haven’t had any—yet,” you answered cautiously. Then you smiled brightly and adjusted the phone to show your midriff. You lifted your pajamas top excitedly, exclaiming, “But look! I’m starting to show!”

You had expected Sylus to be excited, but his expression and entire demeanor was a far cry from what you had anticipated the notorious Onychinus leader to have. He seemed upset, and you frowned, slowly pulling your top back down. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“Huh?” He didn’t seem to realize his expression was upsetting you. He sighed, and apologized immediately. “I am excited,” he clarified, though his tone suggested otherwise, “It’s just…”

“Just what?” you demanded, feeling hurt that his behavior was not like what you had expected.

“I want you here with me.”

Your face softened. “What?”

“You’re starting to show,” he continued, “and it made me realize I don’t want to miss another second of your pregnancy. I’m just…upset that I am not by your side right now, seeing your belly grow, feeling it, taking care of you…”

You could feel your cheeks warming because of his words.

“Come live with me?”

“But—”

Sylus sighed, already expecting the usual excuses: your job, your life, everything you loved was in bright, sunny Linkon City. Not the dark and dreary N109 Zone.

“But my plushies…”

Sylus blinked, confused.

“Sweetie, I have more than enough room here for your belongings.”

“My job—”

“Didn’t you say your captain was putting you on desk duty?” he interrupted you, smirking, “Surely the Hunters Association allows their employees—especially ones in their…delicate condition—the option to work remotely?”

“…”

“No more excuses?”

“Not at the moment…Give me a sec.”

Sylus chuckled. “I’ll have Luke and Kieran make arrangements for your move.”

You gawked at him. “I never said yes!”

“Not explicitly,” he agreed and then tilted his head a little, smirking, “So explain to me why your eyes shined so brightly when I made my offer?”

You slumped in bed and stared at the phone—at Sylus’ insufferable smirk.

“Sweetheart…”

“I want you next to me, too,” you confessed as you looked down at the small bump forming. You tentatively touched it. “I want you with us.”

You looked up at the phone screen just in time to see Sylus had a quick intake of breath, his eyes had widened a fraction, easily missed by those with untrained eyes. Then, he shook his head, almost as if in disbelief by what he had heard. He chuckled to himself. “Sweetheart, I’ll see you in an hour.”

You looked confused. “I thought you were going to bed now?”

“How can I sleep after hearing you say something so adorable?”

You blushed, and tried to keep your voice and expression neutral. “Go to bed,” you said as sternly as possible in spite of Sylus’ amused smirk at your transparent attempt. “I’m getting ready to go to work.”

“Call out,” he demanded.

“No—”

“Fine,” he said, interrupting you to your confusion, “I’ll just show up to your workplace at the end of your work day.”

You stared at the phone, mouth agape. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you just make a threat?”

He shook his head, feigning hurt. “I am merely concerned for my pregnant girlfriend.”

“No,” you repeated firmly. “Do. Not. Come. To. My. Work. Place.”

“How mean,” he cooed mockingly, “You won’t allow me to see you, you won’t let people know I fathered your baby—”

“About that—”

He looked at you suspiciously. “What?”

“People kind of know…”

“I don’t understand,” he said, frowning. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “You said you didn’t want people to know the leader of Onychinus knocked you up.”

“Well, yes—and they still don’t know that.” You bit your bottom lip nervously, flinching a little when Sylus questioned you again impatiently. “I couldn’t just not give them a name—Tara was so excited about the news and well—”

“Well, what?”

“I said Skye fathered my baby.”

“Who’s Skye—you did what?” Sylus paused, remembering. And then he laughed. “I see, so ‘Skye’ is your baby daddy then.”

The minute Sylus started smiling, you felt an uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of your belly. You knew it wasn’t your morning sickness making you feel queasy in that moment. The knot worsened when Sylus started chuckling. You flustered and asked, mildly annoyed, “Why are you laughing?”

“No particular reason,” he answered affably, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I can be okay with this. In fact—”

Sylus’ smile widened. “I won’t come see you after work today after all.”

You breathed out in relief, but that brief moment of serenity disappeared just as quickly the moment Sylus finished his thought:

“‘Skye’ will pick you up today after work.”

“You are absolutely insufferable.”

“See you at five, sweetheart,” Sylus responded, smirking as he ended the call and you were left staring at your bewildered reflection in the darkened phone screen.

“Well, Baby,” You started, staring down at your small bump. You gently placed a hand over it, giving it a tentative rub. “Your daddy can be an ass sometimes…”

“You actually brought your plushies.”

“You said you have room for them.”

“I do, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t remember getting Bunbun, Artsy Birb, or Happy Snowman with you…”

“…don’t worry about them.”

Before you knew it, you began calling Onychinus’ base your home. Not a second home, not a temporary home, but home. There were days you would wake up feeling disoriented, still not quite used to the N109 Zone’s seemingly eternal darkness. There were also many mornings you would find yourself missing and yearning for the sunlight in Linkon City, but those feelings of longing disappeared the moment you felt Sylus’ arm wrapped around your waist, feeling your growing belly and hearing his soft breathing so close to you.

Your eyes fluttered opened one particular day—or, perhaps, it was night, you weren’t quite sure yet—and you felt a familiar warmth behind you. You looked down and saw a large hand covering your growing bump.

You smiled.

Your belly had grown steadily these past few weeks, becoming more and more prominent each day, and while it seemed big to you, it still looked quite small when Sylus touched it. You stared at his large hand nearly covering your entire middle, and you swallowed nervously, realizing you still had several more months of your pregnancy. Plenty of time for your baby to grow bigger.

Much bigger.

You felt nervous.

And scared.

You started to cry.

Sylus immediately woke up when he sensed the sudden shift in your emotions.

“Sweetie?” He was immediately alert, sitting up and pulling you closer to him as he examined you all over looking for anything that could be causing you discomfort or distress. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“How am I supposed to have your big babies?!”

Sylus looked floored.

“…excuse me?”

You continued crying hysterically. “How am I supposed to push out your big babies?!”

Sylus blinked, still not quite following your train of thought. He knew your hormones had been fluctuating all over the place, but even that did not prepare him for this conversation. He rubbed his forehead, half-wondering if he was still asleep and dreaming this whole ridiculous situation. He sighed when you continued to hysterically ramble:

“What was I thinking letting you knock me up with your big babies? Fuck, I wasn’t thinking—I was just a horny little slut! And now I have your big baby inside me! How am I expected to push out a baby that size? Oh, god, what if I can’t—Sylus, stop laughing at me!”

Sylus was leaning against the headboard, his whole body shaking in amusement as he watched you spiral. He chuckled when you attempted to punch his shoulder, but his quick reflex easily allowed him to grab your wrist gently before pulling you into his embrace. He hummed happily when he felt your small bump pressed against his stomach.

“Sweetheart, you are worrying over nothing…”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not gonna be pushing something out of your—"

He kissed your lips, silencing you immediately. “It will be fine,” he reassured you, “Your body was made for this.”

“…for average sized baby…not what you’ve given me…”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, half-amused, half-confused. “I might regret asking this,” he said, giving your cheek a teasing pinch to your annoyance, “but what makes you so certain the baby is going to be abnormally big?”

“Look at you!”

He shrugged, still not quite following your train of thought.

“Sylus!”

“Look,” he started while stroking your head soothingly, his voice gentle, “The doctor said you are meeting all of the expected weight gain on time. Not under, and not over.”

You continued to sulk.

“The baby is growing at a perfectly normal rate.”

“But what if—"

He sighed. “I know all of this is scary right now—” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “And I—I can’t truly fathom your anxiety. You’re scared and I wish I can make you feel better—”

You looked up curiously.

He smiled and rubbed your cheek where he had previously pinched tenderly. “I am so bad at this…”

You stared at Sylus’ helpless smile and you felt a warmth spreading in your chest. This big intimidating man with such an imposing aura, such unfathomable confidence and charisma was rendered helpless and lost by you. You felt oddly touched by this. Your smaller hands grabbed his, holding it close to your cheek and you smiled at Sylus, surprising him.

“I might have overreacted,” you admitted sheepishly, adding, “I’m feeling better now, Sylus…”

He furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?”

You nodded and kissed his palm, your hand caressing his. “I’m still nervous,” you admitted, and Sylus’ expression softened, “But…I feel safe with you…”

He smiled and gathered you into his lap, holding you securely to him. He nuzzled his cheek against your head. “I wish I could take away all of your worries,” he murmured, “but I don’t want to lie to you or make promises I can’t keep…”

He kissed you sweetly, his voice still soft and gentle, “I can only promise that I will stay by your side for as long as you’ll have me…”

His hand lowered, feeling your belly, feeling the life the two of you had made together. “As long as you’ll both have me.”

You smiled at him, eyes brimming with tears.

He wiped the corners of your eyes, tsking softly. “Now,” he continued, his tone lightening, “Any other worries I need to quell tonight?”

You stilled, looking deep in thought. Sylus was only teasing, but he grew concerned when you seemed to ponder his inquiry seriously. He tilted your chin up, your gaze meeting his. He asked, “What is it?”

“Do…do you think I’m still…pretty?”

He blinked, and then he shook his head, amused. “Is that even a question?”

You looked at him sullenly. “Don’t patronize me…I’m serious.”

“Very pretty,” he murmured, grabbing your face, his lips pressed roughly against yours. You gasped and panted, not expecting the fierce kisses from him. His hand rested behind your head, your hair roughly tangled in between his long, slender fingers as he spoke deeply, a faint growl heard in the back of his throat, “So fucking pretty.”

You whined against his lips, and Sylus chuckled as he continued to mumble in between his relentless kisses, “My pretty, knocked up hunter, all round and swollen with my baby, so cute and needy—fuck, I can’t get enough of you…”

“Sylus…” You panted, feeling your body warming up as you listened to his voice, hearing that sinful rasp full of desire for you. You unconsciously rubbed yourself against his thigh and Sylus hissed, grabbing your hips.

“Sweetie…what are you doing?”

You blushed. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

He looked at you knowingly. He gripped your hips tighter, smirking. “You’re really testing my restraint right now…”

You looked at him expectantly, biting your bottom lip. He groaned at the sight.

“Sweetie, my self-control can only go so far…”

“What if…” you looked at him, eyes glazing with desire. “I say…I want you right now?”

“What?” Sylus looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to repeat your words. You felt your cheeks warming up under his intense gaze, but more than that, you also felt a burning inside you as you realize how much you missed and ached for his touch.

“What is this lewd expression you are giving me,” he murmured, tipping your chin up. He leaned down and planted kisses along your neck, nipping and sucking as his hands roamed down your body. You shivered against him as he spoke, “Are you…giving me permission, sweetie?”

“…Yes.”

That was all Sylus needed to hear.

His lips crashed upon yours again, hands fumbling with clothes, making quick work to discard them. Your needy gasps and moans mingled with his own impatient grunts and groans as you both gave in to the pleasure you had both abstained from these past few weeks.

“Sy—ohhh…”

Sylus had you on your side, your leg held up by him as he slid in slowly, his movements more careful than normal as he gauged your reaction, making sure to prioritize your comfort and wellbeing first. He placed a hand over your belly, cradling it possessively. “Who put this baby in you?” he demanded, the rasp in his voice noticeable, making you throbbed inside.

“Y-you, Sylus!”

He kissed your neck. “That’s right,” he murmured, nipping at your skin and leaving his marks, “It’s my child growing inside you, my child in your womb.”

You shivered against him.

“Sylus…more…please…”

“Are you sure—”

“Yes!”

He smirked at your eager, impatient response. His face buried into your neck, his voice husky with desire, “It looks like it’s going to be a long night…”

“I can’t be around Luke and Kieran anymore.”

“Are they bullying you, sweetie? Just bully them right back, you have my permission.”

“That’s not what I meant—never mind. I just…feel like they know what we did…”

“Did they say something?”

“No, it’s the way they looked at me…”

“…they wear masks all the time. How can you tell?”

“I just know.”

“Sweetie…”

“Don’t you dare say I am being hormonal again!”

“…”

Ping!

“Sylus, what the hell?! Did you just text an emoji to me?!”

“I did as you said. I did not say you were hormonal.”

“You texted me the ‘pondering’ Grumpy Crow emoji!”

“It could mean anything.”

Ping!

“…Really, sweetie? The ‘annoyed’ Grumpy Crow emoji?”

“It could mean anything.”

You should have known that Sylus would be prepared for your pregnancy cravings, although, you couldn’t help but felt that he had taken things too far.

“Um…” Luke opened the fridge and stared inside for a moment before closing the door. He turned and stared at you from behind his mask. “Is Miss Hunter craving yogurt?”

“What?” You paused in your work and looked up from your laptop confused. “What are you talking about—”

Luke opened the fridge door again, giving you a grand view of the assorted brands and flavors of yogurt that filled the fridge in every conceivable spot possible.

“I—” you stared, mouth agape, “I simply said yesterday, ‘yogurt sounds tasty right now’!”

Kieran strolled over and opened the freezer door and you all stared awkwardly at the containers after containers of frozen yogurt that also lined the shelves.

“At least he is attentive,” Kieran responded pleasantly while you sat there unsure if you should feel happy or exasperated by Sylus’ gesture.

“Let’s see,” Luke started, pointing at each container as he listed the different types, “You have the regular yogurt, Greek yogurt, French-style, organic, dairy-free, low-fat, probiotic—”

“You also have plain yogurt,” Kieran cheerfully chimed in, adding, “Vanilla, strawberry, peach, raspberry, cherry, mango, coconut, pomegranate…”

“Key lime pie, strawberry-banana, chocolate, cookies ‘n’ cream, mixed berry, orange crème…”

“It’s the salad dressing incident all over again…” you bemoaned, earning absolutely no empathy from the two men in the room, who seemed to be delighted by this odd situation.

“Maybe next time you should be more specific,” Luke said unhelpfully, earning instantly a glare from you. He held up his hands in defense and shrugged. “Say, Miss Hunter, can I have one of the—”

“Be my guest,” you said, sighing when Luke happened to grab the vanilla yogurt that came with crushed chocolate cookies to sprinkle on top.

“Wait, does Miss Hunter even have any cravings right now?” Kieran pondered aloud.

Sex, your mind unhelpfully answered for you before you shooed that traitorous thought away. You forced a pleasant smile on your face and shook your head as you rubbed your growing belly. “Not really. This little one doesn’t seem to mind what I eat.”

“Huh,” Luke said as he stirred the cookies into his yogurt. “No wonder Boss is desperate to find anything to buy for you…”

Kieran nodded in agreement with his brother, adding, “He must really want the whole pregnancy experience with you…”

“Is that so?” You couldn’t help but feel touched by Sylus’ gesture now.

“Maybe you should make something up,” Luke suggested.

You rolled your eyes. “Be for real, you two. I am not going to make up some cravings when I don’t have any just so Sylus can—”

“How about pickles and hot chili-lime tortilla chips?” Kieran suggested, looking up from his phone.

“What are you—actually, that does sound good…”

“What sounds good?” Sylus walked into the kitchen, interrupting your conversation. You glared at Luke and Kieran into keeping their silence, and the two nodded reluctantly.

“Never mind that,” you said, standing up with Sylus’ help, “Are you ready to go to Linkon City?”

Sylus sighed. “The doctors in the N109 Zone are just as good. Hell, I can even get you your own personal doctors to come to our home—”

“Sylus, I want to go to Linkon City. Please?”

One look at your pouting lips had Sylus yielding to you immediately. He sighed again and shook his head in defeat, “Fine, fine, whatever you like, sweetie.”

As you and Sylus started to leave the kitchen, Luke piped up, “Hey, Boss, do we have any yogurt around here?”

You shot Luke the dirtiest look you could muster, making a mental note to get back at him again for his comment.

It was a girl.

It was going to be a girl.

Any worries that Sylus would be disappointed in the gender immediately left your brain the moment you caught sight of his awestruck stare as he gazed at the monitor where you both watched the baby make little movements.

The doctor left the two of you alone to gather your thoughts, to bask in this private joyous moment. The moment the door closed and you two were truly left alone, you both let out the breath you were holding in.

Sylus was the first to speak, his voice more surprised than you had ever heard from the usual confidant man: “We’re having a girl…”

Your heart skipped a beat. It seemed each day, everything felt more real than the last. You knew you were having a baby, of course, but now that you knew it was going to be a girl…you felt so many conflicting emotions coursing through yourself: joy, worry, fear, doubts.

But when you looked upon Sylus, any insecurities you felt disappeared instantly, because you knew he would never leave you to handle things alone. If anything, you knew he would shoulder all of the hardship if he could just so you would never have to suffer for a second in your life.

“Sweetie…”

You gazed into his crimson eyes the moment you felt his hand on your cheek.

“Thank you…”

You blinked in confusion, but he never elaborated further. Instead, you felt his lips on yours, his touch more tender, more protective. As you parted, you saw his eyes drifted from the monitor to your belly, his expression was so tender and heartfelt.

You smiled when you realized you were no longer the only girl in Sylus’ heart.

Bright red eyes. Long, straight nose. Full lips.

“Are you not hungry tonight, sweetie?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes,” Sylus said, frowning, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Uh, no…” you responded, blushing in embarrassment.

“Then what’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking? Do you want to order something else?”

“N-no,” you answered, stopping Sylus from calling the waiter over. Your blush seemed to deepen even more, embarrassed for so many different reasons now. “It’s fine. The food is yummy. Look, I’m eating!”

You took a bite of the roasted chicken on your plate to prove a point. Sylus didn’t look satisfied, so you sighed in defeat and placed your fork and knife down. You breathed in slowly, preparing yourself for your little confession. “Alright…just…don’t laugh at me…”

He huffed in amusement at your preface.

“I just said don’t laugh at me!” you looked up, glaring at him.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded good-naturedly, “So what’s wrong?”

“I was…imagining…”

“Imagining?”

You blushed.

“Imagining what?” Sylus questioned, furrowing his brows as he leaned forward, reaching across the table to grab your chin, turning you to face him. “Answer me.”

“Just…what…the baby will look like…with your features…”

He blinked in surprise, letting go of your chin. He leaned back in his seat, chuckling in amusement.

“You’re laughing at me again!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he objected. He leaned forward again, his left elbow propped on the table, his chin cradled in his hand as he smiled smugly at you. “You’re just so cute.”

If it was possible, your blush probably deepened to another shade. You tried to focus on your dinner, but this time you could feel Sylus’ eyes watching you intensely. You could practically feel your heart pumping fast and hard in your chest. You startled when you heard him speaking again:

“But shouldn’t the baby also have your features as well, sweetie?”

“Well…probably,” you answered.

“I think she’ll look much prettier if she looks like her mommy.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t flatter me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s factual,” he countered with a grin. “And her mommy is very pretty.”

You quietly ate your dinner, pretending you didn’t hear him, though inside you felt delighted by his praises. Sylus continued to watch you eat, amused by your transparent act. He could practically see you brimming with joy at his compliments.

“Shall I order dessert?” he asked, already calling the waiter over. He didn’t even look at the menu, saying, “One of everything.”

You gaped. “We couldn’t possibly finish all of that!”

He shrugged. “We’ll take them to go then.”

“That—that’s not what I—” Your eyes widened as Sylus ignored your protests and gave the revised order to the waiter. “Sylus, that’s too much!”

He chuckled again. “Sweetie, you deserve to be pampered,” he said, “Let me lavish and spoil you during this special time.”

He reached across the table again, wiping your lips with his thumb. You heart skipped a beat as you watched him licked his thumb clean. “Besides,” he started, gazing at you fondly, “You’re already giving me the greatest gift ever.”

“I still think you ordered too much.”

“Complain all you want you, sweetie, but when it’s 2 AM and you are craving a lemon-raspberry cheesecake, you will thank me.”

“But I haven’t had that many cravings during this pregnancy! I’m actually a little disappointed…”

“Shall we play the guessing game then?”

“No alcohol.”

“I obviously wasn’t going to suggest—stop glaring at me.”

Another wet dream.

Some women were exhausted. (You were exhausted.)

Some have weird food cravings. (You had a different craving.)

Some may even be emotional. (You were very, very emotional.)

But you.

Well…you…were having wet dreams and an out-of-control sex drive. (Fuck.)

You woke up one morning groaning in annoyance. You remembered bits and pieces of the lewd dream, enough that you were squirming now that you were awake, feeling frustrated in parts because one: you couldn’t finish the dream, and two: you really needed to finish…

You suddenly noticed Sylus was asleep in bed next to you. You briefly wondered why you didn’t notice him getting into bed earlier, but the thought quickly dashed away when your sex-crazed brain suddenly noted appreciatively that he had fallen asleep in his bathrobe again, the belt barely tied around his waist, exposing his toned torso to you.

A book was lying next to him, and his reading glasses were tilted on his face. You surmised he must have fallen asleep while reading earlier. A mischievous thought found its way into your head, and for a brief second, you contemplated, questioning your own motives.

Well, you were only going to help him take his glasses off. You didn’t want them to break. You were just being thoughtful. Truly.

You hauled yourself up, groaning at the increasing difficulty with each day that your belly grew. You steadied your hand over your bump, giving it a gentle rub before you crawled over and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

Sylus was still asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly.

You held back a moan when you realized he hadn’t put on any undergarment after his shower. What a sneaky bastard.

You leaned forward, touching the frame of his glasses. You hissed when you felt your round stomach pressed forward, touching his toned abdomen. The crisp scent of his body wash wafted in the air so close to your nose, making you just want to lean forward and inhale deeply.

You shook your head, chiding yourself silently before you quickly took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand.

As you were about to climb off of him, you felt yourself brushing against him—against his bulge. You swallowed slowly, feeling a warmth spread in your core. You could practically feel yourself throbbing and aching inside.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Maybe you could be quick and…

You were just going to…

Sylus’ eyes shot opened when he felt a new weight on top of him. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of you on top of him, shamelessly grinding against him. His brain quickly caught up with the situation and he laughed, as he reached out to grab your hips, pulling you into his embrace.

“Well, good morning to you, too, sweetie,” he laughed, kissing your lips, “Is this how you’re going to wake me up from now on? Because I like it.”

You blushed in embarrassment. “I—I can explain.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Grinning, Sylus reached under your nightgown, cupping your sex and rubbing his hand against the fabric of your soaked panties, making you gasped and moaned loudly, the feel of him touching you was a welcoming friction. “Really?” he questioned, his voice dropping an octave lower, “You can explain why you’re so wet right now?”

“Sy-Sylus…” you practically whimpered his name, looking at him pleadingly. You were already suffering from your out-of-control hormones, and right now, that delightfully sinful and sultry voice of his was only making things worse.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he cooed, “Need to get yourself off on my cock?”

You really did whimper this time.

He looked amused as he undid the belt of his robe. You followed Sylus’ every movement, watching with rapt attention as he wrapped his hand around his magnificent cock and began stroking himself leisurely. His own eyes remained locked on you, relishing in the way you were reacting to him. You swallowed, feeling your insides pulsing, needing to be filled by him.

“Ride me,” he ordered. You shuddered at his tone, but you were also more than ready and willing to listen to him. He smirked as he helped you removed your drenched panties, amused by the needy state you were already in this early in the morning. He helped steadied you on top of him, helped you aligned yourself to him, and then in one fluid motion—

“Fuck…” Sylus threw his head back, groaning, as you eagerly sank down on his fat cock. He looked back at you, grinning at the sight of your aroused face taking him in so deeply. “If I’d known being pregnant would make you this insatiable, I would have knocked you up sooner, sweetie.”

You mewled happily when his large hand touched your round belly, rubbing it in slow circles.

“Look at you,” he crooned, leaning up and leading your lips to his. He nibbled on your bottom lip, his voice a soft murmur, “So sweet for me.”

You gasped as he reached out and pulled down the strap of your nightgown, exposing your breast. They had grown considerably throughout your pregnancy, the areolas had darkened, and your breasts felt very heavy with milk for the baby still in your womb. As you rode him, your breasts bounced heavily, the sight turning him on more and more.

You moaned as his hands groped you, his voice heavy with arousal, “Gonna keep you like this…”

You let out a shuddering gasp when he thrusted up, your hands instantly steadying yourself on his chest. You looked into his eyes as he rubbed your belly again.

“Sylus—”

You closed your eyes, gasping and panting as his mouth took in your sensitive nipple. A lick, a tease, and you could already feel it firming up as he sucked eagerly while his hands roamed your body, every touch of his making your skin burned hot. As the morning wore on, you couldn’t help but think how wonderful it would be when your milk would come in and he would have a taste as well.

You couldn’t wait.

“For the last time, Sylus, we are not buying everything in the catalog!”

“Why not? I can afford it.”

“I know you can afford it, but I don’t need all of these items. The baby doesn’t need all of these items!”

“Sweetie, I am only making sure you and my daughter will want for nothing.”

“Thoughtful, if not ill-conceived.”

“How heartless. You do not appreciate my generosity enough.”

“I will once you explain the crow-themed nursery you had Luke and Kieran planning.”

“A compromise since you will not allow me to make a mechanical crow for her.”

“Incorrigible.”

Sylus had always loved spoiling you, be it with material items, praises, or his affections. It was his sole belief that you deserved to be lavished, to be gifted and spoiled with the luxuries of the world, and within the bedroom, he made sure you were worshiped in other ways. Your every whim was his to answer, and he did so willingly, devotedly, and ardently.

The bedroom lights dimmed, and a record played soft, sensual music in the room.

You found yourself standing bent over his bed, large belly hanging low as he approached you from behind. Large calloused hands held your widened hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh and already drawing out your fluttering gasps as you trembled with anticipation, already shamelessly imagining that deliciously large, thick cock of his penetrating you so deeply, in ways no other man could ever compare.

He lifted your right leg, holding it higher at hip level to give him an even better access to your soaked pussy.

“You’re so beautiful…and all mine…”

You moaned into the mattress as you felt him easing in.

“Doing alright?” he questioned, showing a moment of hesitancy as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Yes…yes…Sylus…more…”

He smirked and continued, filling you just the way you wanted.

“I just want to keep you like this…” he murmured, sounding more like he was speaking to himself than you.

Heavy with my child…

Want to keep you bred.

Knock you up over and over and over again…

“Oh, Sylus, you’re being so rough!”

He startled, snapping out of his thoughts. He slowed his movements before bending over and kissing your shoulder apologetically. “I’m sorry, do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“I want you…please?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “How can I resist my dear hunter’s sweet request?”

As he began moving again, your fingers curled around the bedsheets, little moans escaped. Unwittingly, you mumbled into the sheets, your words reaching his ears, “More…want…to give you more…”

“What?”

You whined when he stilled. “Sylus…please…”

“What were you…saying?”

Your hand reached around your large belly, rubbing it provocatively. Sylus felt like he had stopped breathing. The very suggestion, the mere idea that you were already hinting that you would let him impregnate you again made him more aroused than he already was.

Sylus breathed in sharply, fingers pressing deeper into your hips.

He smirked.

He drove into you, fast and unforgiving, panting hard with a pleased grin on his face as you buried your face into the mattress, fingers gripping the bedsheets tighter as you cried out his name again and again.

“Are you going to let me fuck you like this again?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“Gonna let me put another baby in you after this one?”

“Yes, Sylus, yes!”

He groaned and buried himself deep inside you, his body loomed over yours, his sinfully deep voice close to your ear now. You shivered as he whispered into your ear, “Do you like being pregnant with my baby, sweetie?”

You moaned when his hand felt your large belly, rubbing it all over possessively.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…I love being pregnant with your baby!” you cried out, voice growing more desperate to his delight as you found yourself unable to stop the words from leaving your lips. “I want to have more of your babies, Sylus! Want to give you as many babies as you want—”

You screamed into the mattress as he picked up his pace again, taking you harder than before. Your tantalizing words seemed to only have spurred him on, his crimson eyes gleaming brightly while a smug smile graced his handsome face. You gasped and moaned, whimpering to him, “Ohhh…Sylus…! Gonna cum…ah…gonna cum, Sylus…!”

He groaned as he felt your walls tightened around him. He panted, his hands rubbing your hips soothingly as he husked, his own breathing uneven as he felt he was close to finishing as well, “C-cum for me, sweetie. Cum on my cock—”

He stilled, his head thrown back with a deep groan as he felt you coming undone, your euphoric cries music to his ears. With a few more hard, deep thrusts, his own climax came, and you felt him filling you with ropes after ropes of his cum. You felt so full.

He leaned over you, his body heavy on yours. You felt his warm kisses along your neck, his divinely rich voice so close to your ear. “You love being pregnant with my baby…you want more of my babies…”

“Uh huh…” you answered back breathlessly with a smile.

“Fuck’s sake,” he groaned at the sight of your suggestive, mischievous smile. “I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

He smirked and grabbed your chin, guiding your sweet lips to his. “When did I become so lucky?”

He pulled out with a groan, chuckling at the lewd sight of his cum dripping obscenely out of you and down your legs. He gathered you into his arms, smiling as you snuggled closer to him, tired but also immensely satisfied. You felt him laying you down in bed, settling in next to you and holding you close to his own body. Sylus watched over you as you rested next to him, his eyes fixated fondly on your sleepy face while his hand rubbed your belly soothingly to calm your restless baby in your womb.

“She’s moving so much tonight,” he murmured, bemused.

“Can you blame her?” you answered, eyes still closed, but your hand rested over Sylus’, guiding him to where you felt the most movements.

He chuckled. “Fair point,” he conceded. He leaned down and kissed your belly, whispering sweet words to your daughter, his voice holding so much love and devotion for the baby you two made together.

You opened your eyes, smiling at the sight of him caressing your belly adoringly. You had never thought there would be a moment like this in your life, never dared to dream of a love as sweet and pure as this. You wondered if you had traded all of the good luck in your lifetime for this man and the life you were both embarking on together.

“Do…do you want more?” you asked suddenly, voice tentative, almost fearful.

Sylus seemed to stop breathing for a moment.

“More…children,” you clarified.

He exhaled, and laughed. He settled more comfortably in bed, pulling you into his embrace, his hand already stroking your hair gently, already easing your worries. You relaxed under his tender ministration, eyes closing as you listened to his voice:

“Hearing the pitter-patters of little feet in this large house…why, that might be my new dream…”

You hummed in agreement before a yawn escaped. Sylus smiled.

“Shall I tell you a story, sweetie?”

“Mmhmm…”

“There once was a lonely old crow,” he began, gentle eyes gazing down at your sleepy face, “He lived only for himself…until he found a kitten…”

“A kitten?” you mumbled drowsily; eyes still closed. You yawned again and snuggled closer to Sylus. You sighed contentedly when you felt his hand stroking your head. His presence was so warm, so protective and loving, you felt like you could sleep and dream forever in his arms.

“A kitten,” Sylus repeated, continuing, “A kitten…he wanted to protect…and love…”

Sylus paused, hearing soft snoring. He looked down and saw that you had already fallen asleep. He stroked your hair, wrapping strands around his finger.

“They’ll live happily ever after together,” he promised.

Sylus had never cared for sunlight.

He had traversed in darkness and made himself ruler of a city shrouded in never-ending darkness. He lived within the shadows and only knew of this isolating world—of this existence.

Until he met you.

He had crossed over to your world, stepped into the light, into the warmth of the sun. Even though he still found the light unpleasant, he was willing to bear it all just to be near you. To see the joy on your face as you walked under the sun again after so long was a sight to see.

You always did make the sun more bearable, he thought, feeling your hand slipping out of his. You walked on unaware while Sylus fell behind, admiring the beauty in front of him.

Bathed in daylight, Sylus saw a blinding vision, a bright future with you in his life, by his side steadfastly. He knew he had stolen a piece of Heaven, already prepared and willing to pay the heavy price to keep what he had coveted.

“Will you be my wife?” he asked suddenly and you paused in your steps, realizing he had fallen behind. You turned and looked at him, cheeks tinged a pretty shade of pink, unsure if you had misheard him or not. “What did you say?”

He chuckled and shook his head in amusement at your coy look. He walked toward you slowly, but his long legs easily closed the distance between the two of you in no time. “Make an honest man out of me,” he said. Gentle crimson eyes peered down at you full of resolve and love. His hand caressed your cheek lightly, his voice soft and sultry, “Be my bride?”

“But…I’m pregnant,” you reminded him feebly, not noticing his confused look. You lowered your eyes to the ground, but truly all you could see was your large, round belly. It had been a while since you last saw your feet. You were all too aware of Sylus’ eyes on you, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as you replayed his earnest words in your mind. You continued meekly, “I’ll look fat in a wedding gown…”

He laughed. Sylus leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’re not fat,” he said sternly, “You’d look gorgeous even with this belly—why, I might enjoy it even more.”

You huffed doubtfully. You continued to avert gazes with him, but you could still feel the warmth of where his lips were on your cheek. Your heart continued to race and you could feel the baby in your belly growing more active, possibly sensing your tumultuous emotions. You unconsciously cradled your belly, rubbing soothing circles.

Sylus noticed and he smirked, tilting his head in amusement. He tipped your chin up, his lips mere centimeters from yours. “I want everyone to know that you and this baby are mine.”

“Sylus…”

“Sweetheart, it was always you,” he said, “There is no one else.”

He pecked your lips, so light and fleeting, you yearned for more. Your eyes rested on Sylus, his entire being engraved into your memories, into your heart, into your soul. When you looked into his beautiful eyes, you could see forever. There was only one answer you could give him.

“How about it?” he murmured, his deep voice was like honey to your ears, so sweet and sensual in the way he uttered just those three simple words. “Marry me?”

You smiled. “Guess this is forever…”

In mere seconds, you were enveloped in his warmth, his eyes seeing only you, only the life that was about to unfold.

“When did my luck change?” Sylus wondered aloud, stealing kisses after kisses from you.

When indeed…

The pieces of your lives fell into place, this picture of paradise becoming clearer with each passing moment. It was yours to keep, yours to hold.

How divine.

[syluspeach]

Sylus needs a break…(+18)

“Baby, please…you need-ah,fuck-needa stop…”

Sylus’ fingers dug into the fat of your thighs as he held you down on his sensitive cock, the smooth motion of your hips coming to a halt. The growing pressure in your tummy disappeared. Your eyes burned in desperation.

“But I want more, Sy.”

Your whines and cries are overlooked, the male under you trying to catch his breath. His chest rose and fell as he tried to straighten out his thoughts. You had been riding him for a while now. His cum drops from your cunt and down his swollen length.

“Needa break, sweet girl…you’re sucking me dry. Taking every last drop.”

The dazed look in your eyes showed how far gone you were.

“Makes me feel so full…so warm. Needed you in me all day.”

He was surprised by the amount of times you came but were still wanting more. Your abdomen was distended by his seed and cock, yet you refused to stop. The back of your thighs was sticky with release, intensifying the plopping sound of skin meeting.

His usually sweet angel had to have been possessed by some unknown sex demon.

His skin was hot and sweaty against your palms. By the way your nails dug into him, he’d surely find little crescent shapes littered across the broad expanse when he looked in the mirror later.

He couldn’t deny that you looked beautiful on top of him. Your skin heated under his touch, your eyes sparkling in delight as you began rocking your hips once more. Your mouth fell open, breaths pushed out of you with each press against your battered cervix.

Slowly, the tension in his body disappeared and his hips bucked up to meet the swirl of your hips. As he got rougher by the second, tits bouncing in his face, a smile spread across your pretty face. Sylus’ heart warmed at the sight.

In the end, how could he deny you when you begged him so sweetly?

[mazeeelabyrinth]

☆ — sᥡᥣᥙs after teasing him all day

♡ Sylus x afab!reader

tags. smut, oral sex—cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, mild orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy drunk Sylus, petnames—kitten, sweetheart

wc. 1k

a/n. Idk how to format my blogs anymore lol, I'm getting lazy

masterlist ☆ ao3 ☆ navigation

You had been teasing him all day—half on purpose, half just existing in that damn oversized shirt he liked too much. Sylus did not say anything at first. Just watched you, eyes dark, tongue flicking briefly over his bottom lip.

Later, you caught the shift in his mood when he locked the bedroom door behind you that night—no smirk, just simmering intensity.

You had barely finished teasing him—just a bratty little smirk, a shift of your legs in that silk robe when you prepared for bed—and suddenly Sylus was kneeling between your thighs as if prayer was a sport.

“You’ve been a naughty kitten,” he murmured, slowly removing your panties and brushing his nose against your inner thigh. “It’s time I finally pay attention to this pretty cunt, don't you think?”

Then, he kissed your thighs like they were sacred—each kiss slow, open-mouthed, deliberate, like he wanted to taste your pulse before he got to the main event.

His hands stayed firm on your hips, thumbs circling your skin as though he was trying to memorize the feel and shape of you.

When his mouth finally landed between your legs, it was not soft. Sylus licked like he was attempting to slake his thirst—and your cunt was water and he had been crawling through a desert.

Your breath broke into fragmented syllables of his name. Sylus did not rush—of course he did not. Everything he did was calculated, elegant in its cruelty.

Those crimson eyes, intense and sharp, never left yours. Not even as his tongue kept dragging in slow, hypnotic circles over your labia. Each one ended with a flick against your clit that made you gasp—as though he was ringing a bell only he could hear.

Certainly not even when your hips arched off the mattress in response. He only pinned you down harder, one strong arm wrapping beneath your thigh while his other hand splayed over your stomach—holding you in place like a pinned butterfly.

“You always tremble right here,” he murmured, voice sonorous as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin on your mons.

“Sylus, please…”

You reached down to thread your fingers in his hair, but he caught your wrist with maddening ease and pinned it to the mattress beside your hip, fingers firm but never bruising.

“Let me work, sweetheart,” he said, low and amused, breath skimming against your slick cunt. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He spoke as if you were a decadent feast meant to be devoured by kings, not a writhing, breathless woman beneath his mouth. But then he moaned against you, like your taste was something divine, and your thighs clenched helplessly around his ears.

“Sylus, I’m—” you gasped, already feeling your climax building—sharp and quick and terrifying.

He smiled. That smile should have been illegal.

“You’ll come when I tell you to,” he whispered, lips brushing your folds, the tip of his tongue flicking against your cunt again, this time faster, tighter, ruthlessly precise.

Every flick of his tongue was done to leave you whimpering. Every suck of his lips around your clit came with a wicked gleam in his eye. He was too good at this. It wasn’t fair. He mapped you like a battlefield, found every weak point, and exploited it with finesse.

You didn’t stand a chance.

It didn’t take long before your first orgasm crashed over you, violent and shuddering. Your thighs clamped around his head but he didn’t let up—he growled softly, like your resistance only thrilled him.

Again, one hand gripped your thigh, the other slid up your trembling belly to rest over your sternum, keeping you pinned while he continued to lick and suck like you hadn’t just shattered for him.

“Sylus—fuck—I can’t—” you tried to twist, to move, to escape the overwhelming pleasure spiraling into pain. “Too much—too soon…”

He only hummed in response. The bastard was smiling. You could feel it against your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’re done, sweetheart,” he said, voice ragged, like it physically pained him to lift his mouth from you. His fingers slid in then—two of them, deep and slow, curling just right—and your breath hitched. “Not when you’re still this wet.”

Your body jolted, overstimulation crashing over you in waves—each touch too sharp, each stroke too much. Your second orgasm dragged out of you like a scream in reverse. You clenched around his fingers, thighs clamping against his shoulders. He didn’t flinch.

“Fuck—there it is,” he said against you, the vibration of his voice against your clit making you jolt. “Keep squeezing me like that, and I’ll come without even touching myself.”

No mercy. He did not stop there. You wondered if his jaw even ached.

Sylus was nothing if not indulgent when it comes to your pleasure. His teeth scraped your swollen clitoris, nipping the hooded, overstimulated bud just enough to make your cunt begin squirting around his pumping fingers and hungry mouth.

“Sylus! Oh fuck—please!” You gasped, hips writhing, too much—it was too much—but he lapped through it like he was starving. Like your orgasms had been an appetizer and he was determined to feast.

You tried to pull away but his arms locked tighter, pulling you right back against him.

By the time the third hit—harder, meaner—you were whimpering into your hand, too wrecked to speak, too far gone to beg properly. He licked you through it, slower now, gentler, but no less thorough.

His sharp features contorted into a wolfish pride when he finally pulled back, mouth slick and chin glistening. He leaned over you, bracing himself on one arm, and brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

“You always taste like heaven,” he said, voice low and reverent, like he had just discovered a religion and it wore your body.

You tried to answer. Your lips moved. Nothing came out but a ragged sigh.

Sylus chuckled, kissed the tip of your sweaty nose, and whispered, “And sweetheart, I am feeling religious.”

God help you—you got what you wanted but you were not getting sleep tonight.

[ilikerafayelwaytoomuch]

How the LADS men react to their gf showing physical affection, who is a bit scared to show affection

A/N: a post with all the lads boys this time...hopefully I did them justice

Tags/warnings: she/her pronouns used (should i try using gender neutral terms?), s/o has a little fear of vulnerability (can you see a pattern haha), s/o in raf's may be a bit too specific (she is described to have a passion for music), fluff <3

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Rafayel 

Music softly filled the living room of the artist's house. A classic played, one of Beethoven's symphonies. Rafayel always experimented painting with different music playing, seeing what emotions it could evoke. His girlfriend loved that about him, as she had a passion for music. She smiled softly as she stood in the hallway. Rafayel sat on a stool, his back to her, an easel and canvas in front of him, a brush slowly moving across it. Y/n didn't want to interrupt, really. But a recent breakdown has caused the couple to have a conversation and she promised she would try to be more vulnerable with him. Even though it scared her. She wanted to start small. Right now she really really wanted a hug from her boyfriend. That shouldn't be too much to ask. 

Nervously, she made her way into the room and approached Rafayel. She hesitated for a moment, but continued. “Cutie?” Rafayel questioned, hearing footsteps, but not turning to look or stop his painting. Y/n said nothing and waited for his brush to finish the stroke before nervously wrapping her arms around him, placing her head onto his back. She felt extremely embarrassed. There was no reason to. This was Rafayel. Her Rafayel. Her boyfriend. The man let out a soft gasp in surprise and tensed up. “Wha- you-” he spluttered. 

“Wan’ a hug,” she mumbled into his back. It took Rafayel a moment to process, not used to the sudden display of affection from his lover. When his brain began to work again, his heart soared. He placed his pallet and brush down before turning around and wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her almost too much with a happy giggle. “Mmm. What should I do? This painting has to be done by tomorrow, but my baby needs my cuddles,” he sighed. Y/n tried to back away, not wanting to harm his work. Her ears still burned with embarrassment and she was sure her face matched. Maybe this was all a bad idea. Rafayel wouldn't let her break away, pulling her closer. 

“Sorry, I'll-” she began, but was interrupted by Rafayel quickly dropping his arms to hold her thighs and lift her into his arms. 

“Ah well, what can you do,” he sang. Y/n glanced up at him to see a huge, dorky smile on his face. “Feels even better when you initiate a hug then me hugging you,” he admitted. The girl felt her face flush again and she hid her face in his neck. “Cute,” he pressed a kiss to her hair. “But seriously, I know that was hard for you. I admire your vulnerability. And of course I will happily cuddle you for the rest of the night! Should we head to bed early or watch that movie you wanted?” The girl was speechless and just shrugged, making him laugh. “Aww is my cutie still embarrassed? There's nothing to be embarrassed about.” She whined in response. She felt her weight shift as Rafayel sat down on his couch. Rafayel hummed. “Can I make you be a bit more vulnerable and give me a kiss?” He asked. Y/n sighed and took a brief moment to breathe before lifting her face to look at him. She quickly kissed his lips before returning to her hiding spot. Rafayel couldn't hold back his laugh, holding her tightly as he shook with laughter. 

Minutes later, she heard the TV turn on, the pre-movie credits playing. Rafayel moved his girlfriend somewhat begrudgingly, so that she was now sitting next to him, her legs across his lap. She looked at him confused. He nodded towards the TV. “Kind of hard for you to watch if you're just pressed against my chest, no?” He asked, moving his arm to wrap around her back, the other reaching for her hand and placing a kiss on it. “And don't worry, I'll definitely be getting my real kiss later. As many as I want,” he winked at her. Safe to say he did not complete his painting that night, which wasn't abnormal for the artist. He had more important things to do. 

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Sylus 

The Onychinus base was dark. A few lights leading y/n to the boss. Sylus was in his study, working on something. She wasn't sure what, but she didn't intend to stay long. It weighed heavily on her mind that she never initiated any physical contact with Sylus, her boyfriend. He hadn't said anything, but she had been in her head about it. If she were dating someone and they never initiated anything, she'd think they didn't really like her. She didn't want Sylus to think that. The problem was she's not good at initiating contact. It terrifies her. So even when she wanted to, she held back. But after thinking, she decided she would initiate physical contact, no matter how scary. Starting small of course. Today's plan of action? A hug before she went off to bed. It wasn't unusual for her to say goodnight to the man, but he was always the one to wave her over to hug or kiss her. Tonight she wasn't going to let him. 

The girl softly knocked on the door, opening it slowly and peeking in. Sylus’s brow raised, pleased by the sudden interruption. He looked down at his watch, unaware of his girlfriend swiftly making her way across the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but was shocked by how close she now was. Wordlessly, she climbed into his chair with him, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around him. “Just wanted to say goodnight,” she whispered. Y/n wanted to sound confident, but her voice betrayed her, shaking slightly. Sylus smiled, his large hands resting on her back. “This is quite the surprise,” Sylus began, not wanting to push her too far. Of course he had noticed his girlfriend's behavior. He could tell when she wanted a hug or kiss, but then did nothing about it. He didn't say anything, not wanting to push her and trusting she would when she was ready. It didn't bother him that she never kissed him. It bothered him that she wanted to kiss him, but didn't. Sylus was determined to do everything in his power to let you be comfortable to take what you wanted from him. “I always come say goodnight,” y/n tried to play off the action. He chuckled. 

“Yes, and I love that. But,” he hesitated, unsure how to put his feelings into words that wouldn't hurt her unintentionally. “You never do this. Not that I mind. I'm happy you're finally taking what you want from me.” 

“Can I take more?” She quietly asked. 

“You can take anything and everything from me,” he replied. 

“Come to bed? At least for a little bit. I know you have work to do, but-” she was cut off by Sylus standing, carrying her to his bedroom. He placed her down gently, tucking her into bed before getting in next to her and wrapping his arms around her again, her head tucked into his neck. He lifted her head and pressed a slow kiss to her lips, appreciating her actions. “Take whatever you want. Goodnight, love.” 

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Xavier 

Y/n paced back and forth in her apartment. She had woken up in the middle of the night, a nightmare interrupting her sleep. What had caused her to pace however, was a decision she had to make. Her dreams had been plagued with memories of what happened to her grandmother, her death anniversary coming up. When she woke up, she felt horribly lonely and the thought of her boyfriend a few apartments down almost made it worse. She was an adult, she could handle a little nightmare and just go back to bed. Or she could get in the elevator and go see Xavier. He wouldn't mind, right? But her boyfriend loved his sleep. Like a lot. She didn't want to interrupt that. Plus he had just gotten back from a mission, only texting to let her know he got back safe and was headed to bed. She decided she could be stealthy enough, putting on some slippers and heading out the door. 

The building was quiet, which made sense because it was the middle of the night. But it was cold and y/n regretted not grabbing a coat, only in her pj's. The elevator seemed to move slower and she wondered if she should just turn around and deal with this alone as she always had. But the last time she had a nightmare, Xavier happened to be over and she told him she would come to him if it happened again. She technically already broke that promise, having a similar dream soon after but dealing with it alone. This one however, felt more intense. She would not be getting any sleep after it. The bell dinged and she excited the elevator, walking over to his apartment. 

She didn't bother knocking, just using the spare key he gave her and opening the door suddenly. She was a bit surprised to see her boyfriend asleep on the couch- his arm draping off the side. This presented a new problem. He was clearly so tired after the mission, he passed out on the couch, still wearing his uniform. Y/n bit her lip in thought. Her original plan was to just get into bed next to him and sleep, but that wasn't possible with him on the couch. She'd have to wake him up. She'd have to tell him about her nightmare and that she wanted to stay with him. It was too much. As she turned to leave, she was stopped. “Is that you y/n?” Xavier had spoken through a yawn. “Are you okay?” Her hand froze on the doorknob of his door, not knowing if she should book it or not. But she wanted to get some rest. She wanted her boyfriend's comfort. 

“I had another nightmare,” y/n finally said, turning around to see her boyfriend now sitting up on the couch. He smiled sleepily at her. “Mm come to bed with me. Too cold to sleep alone anyway,” he stood, stretching. She nodded and walked over to him, unable to hold back and hugging him. He held her back, saying nothing even when he felt a few hot tears fall on his shoulder. “You're okay now. Thank you for coming to me,” he whispered to her. She nodded and backed away. Xavier gently wiped her face with his fingers. “Let me change and I'll meet you in bed?” She nodded and they headed to his room. 

Once in something more comfortable, Xavier got into his bed, spooning his girlfriend. He sighed happily, nuzzling into her neck. Y/n felt better. Warm. Being held by the one she loved most, she was able to find rest that night. 

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Zayne 

When the door to his apartment opened, Zayne was greeted by his girlfriend wrapping her arms around him. He was a bit surprised, not expecting her to be there. He hugged her back, not letting go. He always made sure to not let go first, knowing his girlfriend. She struggled to show her affection, so when she did he made sure to not break away early, soaking up all the affection he could from her. Usually, her hugs were brief, but today's wasn't. She held onto him, breathing in his scent. Zayne hesitated for a moment on whether to let go. But decided against it, thinking there must be a reason. “You smell good,” y/n murmured. 

“Is that so? I just got out of a five hour surgery,” he questioned. Maybe she believed she needed a reason to hug him longer than normal because he surely didn't smell good. 

“Oh,” she hesitated, her excuse nullified. 

“Is everything okay?” Zayne softly asked. 

“Yeah, I just,” she hesitated again. “Wanna hold you. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” he smiled. “Not that I want to let you go, but what is that smell?” 

“Oh, I cooked you some dinner. I figured you'd be hungry.” 

“You didn't have to do that.” 

“I know,” she replied, breaking away from the hug to look at him and smile. “I just wanted to. I figured we could eat and then watch a movie tonight?” 

“Sounds lovely. Let me go wash up,” he smiled at her before disappearing into his room. Y/n moved to his kitchen, playing the food she had prepared for them. Nothing fancy, but tasty nonetheless. Zayne had returned unnoticed, only making himself known when he wrapped his arms around her, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek. The two said nothing, only swaying in the kitchen to unheard music. “The foods gonna get cold,” y/n warned. Zayne sighed, but agreed, releasing her to sit down and eat. 

Zayne has refused to let y/n do the dishes after they had finished. Arguing that she had done so much to prepare it, it was only fair he cleaned up. She eventually listened, going to set up the movie in the living room. He joined her, sitting down next to her and grabbing a side blanket- her favorite. Even though she bought the blanket for him to “liven up his house”, she used it anytime she came over, snuggling into it. When the movie began, Zayne watched as his girlfriend excitedly cuddled up to him, pulling the blanket onto them both. They were quiet for a while, enjoying each other's company and the movie. The movie had slowed, the plot not being very intense. “You know you don't have to do all of this to cuddle with me,” Zayne whispered to her. She nodded, blushing slightly. 

“I know. I wanted to. It somehow makes it easier than outright asking for you to hold me. That still scares me,” she admitted. 

“Well first off, thank you for the dinner and everything. It was very nice. Second, you don't have to say anything or do anything grand. You can just pull me down here to the couch or bed and I'll happily hold you as long as you need. I know you show your love through actions, so I'm not saying to stop doing that. I'm just saying it's not necessary or a prerequisite to physical touch,” he explained. She nodded and looked at him with a smile. 

“I know, promise. It's nice to hear I don't have to get to the point of straight up asking you for what I want though. Maybe one day I'll be brave enough.” 

“And if not, that's okay. I like to think I know you pretty well and can understand your hints no matter how small.” 

“Oh really? Then what do I want right now?” She asked, eyes sparkling.

“A kiss,” he answered simply, leaning in to do just that. When he pulled back, he noticed her face erupted into a cute blush. “Was I wrong?” He asked. She shook her head, embarrassed that he truly had known. No one else had ever paid that much attention to her. “I love you Zayne,” y/n told him. 

“And I love you too.” 

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Caleb 

It was surprising to y/n that she struggled to be “touchy feely” with her current boyfriend. They were childhood friends after all. She was more comfortable with him than anyone, even after everything that happened. Caleb never said anything about it, probably knowing she had this struggle with everyone. He never pushed it either. To him, that's just his girlfriend. She's everything he's ever wanted and more. Sure, she struggles to be a bit vulnerable and come to him for a hug or cuddle or kiss, but that was okay. He was happy to initiate all of that. But for y/n, it was something that made her insecure. In relationships, you were supposed to hug and kiss and sure she and Caleb did, but she never kissed him. She had hugged him plenty of times, but holding his hand and kissing him was another story. She wanted to, of course, they were dating now. But it terrified her for some reason. The judgement from others maybe was part of it, another that for some reason if she initiated anything Caleb would be disgusted with her. She knew it was irrational, but that didn't make it any easier. 

Today was one of the rare days they both had off and Caleb was in town. They had spent most of the day indoors, playing games, ordering food and spending time with each other. But after a while, they got a little stir crazy and decided to head to a nearby park to go on a little walk and then maybe grab some dinner. The sun was out and it overall was a beautiful day. They walked down the path, chatting and messing around with each other. Y/n had run ahead, telling Caleb that he was still the slowest person ever. When he caught up, her heart thumped in her chest, more so due to nerves than the exercise. She tried to be as natural as possible as she grabbed his hand next to hers, holding it and swinging it slightly by her side. She said nothing. She couldn't even look at him, suddenly finding the trees around them to be the most interesting thing she's ever seen. But the flush of her cheeks told a different story. 

When Caleb felt his girlfriend's soft fingers hold his, he thought his heart would combust. He immediately turned to her, to find her blushing and looking away. He was shocked, knowing that this was something that was hard for her. He always said that it was okay she never held his hand out kissed him and he really thought that. But now he wasn't so sure he could go back. “Someones gotten braver,” he commented, making her pout. 

“It's just hand holding,” she muttered, moving their hands in front of them so they could see their hands intertwined. “Oh really? But you've never grabbed mine before,” he reasoned. She dropped their hands back to their sides. 

“Yeah well, a lot has changed,” she shrugged, trying to play it cool. Caleb laughed at her. “I returned almost a year ago and we started dating soon after. And only now you take my hand?” He teased. “Something big must have changed in the past two weeks.” 

“Yep,” she agreed, not breaking her act. “So much has changed that I can even do this.” She suddenly stopped walking and pressed a kiss to his lips. Caleb froze and she took the opportunity to let go of his hand and run away. When he returned to reality, he heard her laughing, his personal favorite song as she ran away from him. “Don't think you can get away with that!” He called after her, running to catch up, a huge grin on his face.