#it's like the worst form of torture imaginable

[pangur-and-grim]

my two beautiful girls who compress my lungs and do not let me sleep

[imagine--if]

══⋆✰* Dating Cha Hyun-Su Includes: *✰⋆══

A/N: In honour of the second season of Sweet Home, this was mandatoryyyy 😁 just started off with some relationship hcs first but feel free to send some imagine or other headcanon requests through my inbox for Sweet Home characters if you're into it! These headcanons cover season one and two. Enjoy reading 🖤

Warnings: Sweet Home series spoilers, mentions of violence

🩸• Starting from the beginning of this monstrous series of events, the most likely way you'll meet Hyun Su is at Green Home a bit before the monster outbreak and apocalypse comes along. All you'll see of the quiet, sullen young man is his weary, unfocused gaze that briefly trails up from the ground to glance up at you in acknowledgement as he bumps into you somehow while moving into his apartment in the complex. The only sign of his interest in you from first looks is his stare lingering for just a beat longer than he'd usually bother... and that's about it. Boy's too shy and broken and tired to feel like he's good enough to do much else, let alone have a shot at even being friends with someone like you, so he'll just admire you from afar every once in a while and leave you to live your life while he despises his.

🩸• HoWeVeRrR-

🩸• The apocalypse unleashes its hell before much else can happen, and before you know it, you two are out surviving in a ruined world riddled with horrifying monsters and mutations, hiding out inside Green Home as you form the group together with the rest and try to fight off the monsters inside the building along with it infecting and warping others into gruesome, inhumane figures.

🩸• This boy's absolutely damaged and drained from all he's been through before moving to Green Home, and so it takes a lot of energy for him to slowly, slowly break out of his shell and reach out to you in return. But he will. He just needs time and patience, and Hyun-Su will find himself making the tiniest amount of small talk when you're together with the rest of the surviving group in the apartment complex. Or, most likely, it'll be him giving you most of his food when you're eating by silently and gently pushing it over to you, no eye contact, no words.

🩸• Before you, he didn't have the slightest will or reason to live, and so the only idea he can think up while dragging himself around the wreck of Green Home along with the rest of the group of survivors is to follow you around and protect you. The way he wants to die is for you, shoving himself into the way of the monster or whatever else the danger is to take him instead. Hyun-Su's absolutely fine with that idea...

🩸• Until he starts falling in loveee- 😏🖤

🩸• Everyone gets used to the sight of this boy following around after you like a moon-eyed puppy, having a tall, slightly dropping shadow trailing behind your own whenever you go somewhere to find food or weapons or whatever you've been sent to find. From Season One, where Lee Eun-Hyuk tries forcing him to do everything and using his monster side as an advantage, if it involves steering clear of you or putting you in any danger, boy's had enough. Hyun-Su will defend himself in his own quiet but intense way, his dark glare bleeding into Eun-Hyuk's with a few mumbling words of a threat before he wanders off to find you again.

🩸• Hyun-Su does consider trying to completely leave you alone, since everyone's aware that he's dangerous with his monster brimming to the surface from inside of him and his other symptoms and dangerous instability being infected, but it feels like the worst form of torture. He's alone again, in a world grimmer than the last, and he has no idea what to do with himself except feel like crying and telling you everything about everything when you sit by him and ask him if he's doing alright.

🩸• I think that this guy would be mega touch-starved after living in isolation for so long after all the bullying and tragedies with his family, so having you as a comforting voice of reason and warmth is something he can't help but melt into after you've been unspoken friends during the apocalypse and doesn't have the fight left in him to reject you if you try to clean bloodstains and patch up his wounds after a nasty confrontation. After that, it's safe to say that out of the whole group of survivors together in Green Home, he'll always be naturally apprehensive and distrusting towards them all, but if it's you that's trying to point something out or is worried about something; let him go get his weapon, he's coming with you.

🩸• His general aim and instinct is to protect good people and be some source of help and comfort that's been so unfamiliar to him personally, but with you, instinct is boosted 10000000% because it's you. You're too good for this world, way too good for him, and if you die, he dies. This concept basically becomes something Hyun Su isn't even fully aware of until the point where you might almost die somehow being confronted by monsters with the others, which is where you'll witness himself having a full-on freak-out in his mind and using all his strength and darker, monstrous side to come out on top to save your life.

🩸• After the danger's gone and you're alone in a quiet room to recover and process what happened, that's all the time you need to make it official, hugging him tightly and thanking him, while Hyun-Su shakily pats your back in return before giving up and hugging you back equally as tightly, staying in a protected embrace as long as time will let you.

🩸• There's so much raw love and trust and protection in a relationship with Hyun-Su, it's unbelievable 😭 he's so clingy and sweet and ridiculously romantic in private with you until you point it out, which results in a blushing red sight and not being able to look you in the eye in bashfulness for about a straight hour before he gets over it. In public, it's still obvious that you're together, with smaller signs of affection and togetherness like holding hands, or doing that coupley thing where you whisper together in the back corners of rooms or give each other brief, subtle looks that say everything you need to understand what it means and where to run or go or something.

🩸• At first, he is a little reluctant to get too close to you because of that lingering fear of accidentally hurting you or his monster side popping out to ruin everything, but with some time and small steps, he'll eventually give up trying to be overly cautious and let him be wholly soothed by you, which was the biggest relief of all for him.

🩸• But just as you're getting properly closer and in touch with each other as romantic partners as well as best friends and survivors in this mess together, his monster alter ego personality will find it the perfect time to mess around with his head and find a way to overpower Hyun-Su, meeting you properly in the process.

🩸• Now, his monster side is a whole other story when it comes to personality, but if you think that means you'll be left alone or hated or something, think AgAiN, and then again, because no :)

🩸• Hyun-Su's monstrous side is darker, daring, dangerous, and with you, madly possessive and protective. I mean, he won't even try to hold himself back from taking things to extremes and spilling as much blood as necessary if he gets a weird vibe from someone around you, or if someone outrightly tries to attack you. Even if it's a monster like him, there's enough threat in thrashing them through a few solid walls and leaving some biting words behind before stalking off.

🩸• Monster Hyun-Su's a massive starer by the way, so those unnervingly blue eyes are going to be a sight you'll have to get used to, like literal inches away from your face when you wake up, studying you for wounds, or just studying you in general. There's something about you that's just so fascinating to him, and this side of him literally does not know what boundaries are, so he's all up in your face studying you in curiosity with a soft but dark smirk on his face, while you're just "😐"

🩸• Kind of gross but Monster Hyun-Su has the weirdest affection ever. Like, he enjoys feeding you when you're hungry, mostly questionably bloody-looking things until you get it in his head that you're not Hannibal Lecter and just want a breakfast bar or something 😭 and when this guy goes to hug you, it'll be ridiculously tight, sometimes his wing breaking out of its shell to wrap over you, which is kind of sweet. Until he goes to kiss you and it's not a kiss at all, it's more him living up to his monstrous reputation by licking at your skin like some kind of dog until you squeal and push him away, which he always finds hilarious. Meanwhile, normal Hyun-Su's mortified 😂

🩸• Normal Hyun-Su and Monstrous will most likely make an agreement between them to make sure you're kept alive and as unharmed as possible, protect you from any sort of danger, so if you thought you had a shadow following after you before the split between them, you've got a much more threatening one now, so it'd be very hard for much damage to come to you at all. And good luck if you want some time alone to wander and think by yourself, because if he doesn't straight-up follow you out with no buts like usual, he'll be watching you somewhere close at all times.

🩸• I feel like Hyun-Su's monstrous side would find it funny to make you jump, like falling down out of nowhere from a building or something right in front of you when you thought you were alone or something stupid like that. You'll give him an annoyed glare of protest, and he'll just smirk smugly and teasingly with a fake-innocent shrug of "something wrong?"

🩸• To sum up the whole. predicament you've gotten yourself into here, falling in love with Hyun-Su would pretty much protect you from ninety per cent of the apocalyptic mess of the world while being showered with all the lost love and affection and longing he thought were dead along with all the rest of his hopes and energy from the beginning. And then to keep you on your toes, you've got the monstrosity inside of his head coming out at random moments to obsess over you before Hyun-Su can come back to reality again. But whoever's at the surface, and wherever you two are, he'll always, always be there watching you and with you, one way or another.

[dragonsholygrail]

A monster boyfriend would be fantastic.... Can you imagine him coming to your defense when you have a toxic parent? I'm on the obese side but very short. Last night......a parent called me lazy and fat....despite my efforts t olose weight for health reasons. Now, I feel too scared to eat.

I cried so hard, and wish I had some intimidating boyfriend that would've made my mom shut up and come to my defense. Also, I feel like monsters would not care so much about human standards of beauty. (Even at my healthiest weight, I wasn't like stick thin)

Oh, hunny, I feel you. I’m in the same boat. I’m so sorry you went through that. You are absolutely beautiful the way you are. Do what you need for your health but know that being skinny doesn’t equal being healthy. Please eat, love, because making sure you’re eating all your meals is a part of health. I know that a monster would love you no matter what and would embrace you entirely.

I’ve been through a similar experience and I know I would’ve loved to read something to comfort me so I hope this can comfort you <3

Perfection to Me

Monster bf x chubby fem!reader - tw fatphobia, toxic parent[ing], hurt/comfort, protective bf, body worshipping, multiple orgasms, creampie

You had been so excited. You had recently gotten your very first boyfriend and you were so excited to introduce him to your family and friends.

Of course, all of your friends had been a bit surprised when they first met and they were faced with a huge and intimidating monster. But in reality, your monster bf was the sweetest man you had ever met. He was protective and he cared for you more than you ever could’ve imagined.

And he proved it to you time and time again how seriously he took your courtship. How deeply he considered you already to be his mate. Not shying away from using the term regularly.

All of this just drove your excitement to the point where you couldn’t wait to introduce him to your mother. To show her you’d finally found someone.

That excitement slowly dwindled. More and more as the night went on. It had all been going so well. Your mother greeted your monster bf with delight. Clearly happy, if not surprised, by his presence. It was easily overlooked.

But then the comments started. Snide in-passing comments. Comments about your relationship, your weight, and worst of all your eats habits.

You focus on staring down at the table, trying to keep your tears at bay. Having been so used to swallowing down these comments without a retort. Luckily your monster bf isn’t.

A loud slamming of fists rattles the dinner table, causing you to look at your bf with a sharp gasp. From the corner of your eye you can see your mother do the same.

“Who do you think you are?” Your bf snaps, his hands clenched. Only barely holding back his simmering rage.

Word after word he had been tortured by your mother’s lashing tongue. He had no idea how you must be feeling. But after seeing the tears in your eyes he could no longer sit back and take it.

“Excuse me?” Your mother asks, eyes wide and partially frightened by the aura which radiated from your monster bf.

“Was I not clear?! Who do you think you are to be speaking to my mate like that?” He questions, standing up. Only making his form that much more intimidating to witness. Not willing to listen to any bullshit from your mother.

“Well, I.. I am her mother!” Your mother replies weakly, visibly shrinking back in her chair.

“I have known mothers that eat their young who are kinder than you,” your bf lashes out, claws sinking into his own skin. You wince seeing it, your worry for him growing. Not wanting him to hurt himself because of her.

“How dare you!” Your mother shrieks, hand clutching her chest.

“Baby, plea-“

“No!” Your bf snarls, head whipping to face you, and stopping the excuse from leaving your lips. His arm joining it to stop you from reaching for him.

But as his eyes meet yours, they immediately soften. He leans down, licking and nuzzling into your cheek in a silent apology.

“I will not stand idly by and watch as an insignificant disrespects you,” his voice rumbles into your skin as he moves down to your neck, scenting you. Marking you as his to care for now.

“Insignificant!”

Monster bf tenses hearing your mother’s voice again. Returning to his full height he glowers down at her.

“It is a mother’s job to nurture and protect,” he states simply, making his opinion of her treatment of you quite clear.

“I am protecting her! Protecting her from herself and from everyone out there,” your mother finally snaps. Standing up from the table even in the face of your bf.

Your bf bristles, needing to pause for a moment. Ensuring he doesn’t lose control of himself. After a silent beat he slowly walks around the table and towers over her.

“In this moment you are a far greater enemy to her than anything she will face out in the world…”

You watch as his words sink in. Your mother’s face growing pale and her mouth finally staying closed.

When he’s sure she won’t try and reply, your monster bf moves around her, heading back to you. He holds out his hand which you take without hesitation. Your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

It’s only when your bf immediately reaches with his free hand to wipe softly at your cheeks do you realize you had been crying.

“Come, sweet mate. I think it’s time we leave,” he says lowly as he gathers you up in his arms. You don’t even think about resisting, just letting your bf swiftly lead you out of the home.

You could tell your monster bf was angry. He was furious. And it showed in the way he ravishes you the moment you two get home.

As soon as the door closes behind you he’s plucking you up from the floor with ease and throwing your body gently down on the bed. Endless praises leave his lips, clearly setting out to replace every mean word your mother had uttered throughout the night.

He peels your clothes off slowly, despite the fact he was practically shaking with his restraint. Revealing your beautiful big body inch by inch. As soon as you are bare he pounces on you, showing how much he treasures every curve of your body.

His face nuzzles into your thick neck as he grinds his cock against your pussy lips, all while telling you how hard you make him. Not stopping until you come apart, dousing his length with your essence.

He makes sure to take care of every inch of you. Moving down to latch onto your nipples. Sucking and massaging at your supple flesh until you gush all over the sheets from the toe-curling stimulation. Your body spent but your monster bf not having finished with you, evident by the feral glint in his eye.

Taking his time, setting his own aching need aside, to slowly kiss down the curve of your stomach. His claws digging into your sides and loving how you fill up his hands.

Though his hands suddenly have a far better use as they spread your meaty thighs for him. He dives right in, stuffing his face into your fat pussy and completely smothering himself in your folds. His tongue devouring you like you’re the only thing he’ll ever want to eat again.

Fingers joining soon after, needing to fill you up even deeper as his tongue laps up your essence. His hand and mouth work in total sync till your body is shaking with the need to cum. His mouth sucks greedily at your clit while his fingers curl along your walls. As soon as he finds that sweet spot within you, you’re erupting all over his tongue. White dots briefly clouding your vision from the intensity.

Monster bf barely gives you a moment to breathe as he rises onto his knees, that look in his eyes only growing darker with each orgasm that overtakes you. His eyes rake over your limp form.

“You are perfection,” he breathes out before finally sinking into your tight cunt. You both moan as your bodies connect, your back arching as you show off that body that’s so beautiful to him.

He can’t hold back any longer as he furiously fucks his cock into you, bodies slapping together in perfect harmony. Growls and deep rumbling noises escaping him as your body brings him a pleasure he’s never otherwise experienced.

Together you two bring each other to orgasm after orgasm, never getting enough of each other. It’s not until neither of you can physically not move that you take a break.

“You hungry, love?” He asks as you two lay back on the bed, limbs completely wrapped around each other.

“Hmm, no. Not really,” you reply quietly, your appetite not quite having returned after dinner was interrupted. Monster bf senses this, his lip quivering as he visibly holds back a growl.

“Well, what if we change the venue, huh? You can eat off of me,” he suggests, a lighthearted smugness moving across his features. His free arm moving to rest behind his head while the other keeps a firm grip on you.

“Oh, well that changes things then,” you say through your laughter. Your bfs smugness grows as he shifts down and spreads out across the bed. Showing off his body to you. A body that’s goal is to give you more pleasure than you could dream of.

“Yeah, it does. You can eat a fucking feast off of me…” your bf says with a grin, all in order to bring more of that sweet laughter out of you. To have it tickle his senses. He’d do anything to make you laugh. He leans down and nibbles at your neck, causing you to giggle lightly. That’s it. “And that’s exactly what I plan to have you do.”

Monster bf doesn’t given you any time to respond before he’s back to kissing the daylights out of you.

[blueicequeen19]

Camping Trip

Warnings: Somno, non-con, unprotected sex, creampie, JJ stealing Rafe’s girl, Rafe claiming her anyway 😮‍💨

I didn't want to come on this camping trip but my girlfriend insisted. The idea behind it was appealing; kayaking through the marsh, partying, then camping for the night, then going back to civilization. The cops left us alone as long as we cleaned up our mess before we left. All the way out here, there was no need to worry about disturbing anyone else or getting a noise complaint. I think this was their way of letting us get everything out of our system. The drugs, alcohol, and sex never stopped flowing at these events. Out here we weren't Kooks or Pogues. We were all alike and just trying to forget for a weekend. Everyone was out in the open, naked and fucking. Or drinking. Or smoking. It was the wildest weekend of the year. But it was torture for me now.

I couldn't relax knowing that the one person plaguing my mind was here and she was here with Rafe fucking Cameron. We were supposed to have some sort of truce with Rafe for Sarah. She didn't want the drama and the retaliation that always followed. And sense one of the rules for coming out here was no fighting, my hands were tied. For the most part.

When we'd been loading the kayaks on the water, I'd seen Rafe's tent lying on the sand waiting to be packed so I nonchalantly bent down to grab something and sliced the side with my knife before he came back. He was more pissed off over manual labor than to notice the giant hole. It wasn't until a few hours ago that he finally noticed and threw a fit. Of course he didn't suspect me because I was the one helping them set up camp. Rafe wasn't made for the outdoors like I was so he didn't have a clue. And when I offered to let them share our four person tent, he was hesitant but he agreed. Especially after I mentioned the risk of sand fleas from sleeping outside.

Y/N saw through my bullshit though. I could tell with the way her eyes tracked my every move, narrowing slightly when we'd lock eyes. My girl isn't stupid so why is she hanging out with this moron?

It was getting late by the time Rafe was drunk enough to be tolerable. My girlfriend was currently passed out in the tent, her buzz keeping her that way as I crawled in next to her. Rafe's one stipulation about sharing the tent was that the girls slept in the middle. That was fine but I couldn't bear to wake my girlfriend so I left her on the side, maneuvering myself between her and Y/N. Both girls were in their bikinis since the night air was still pretty hot and humid while I had nothing on but a pair of basketball shorts. Y/N had laid down a while ago but Rafe was passed out by the fire, where he'd stay for now.

I let my eyes descend her body, marking every detail to memory from the scar on her hip to the freckle on her chest. I want to lick every inch of her the cum on her face. She was exquisite and fucking mine.

I moved closer so her side was pressed to my chest, her hand next to the raging hardon in my shorts. I lost myself in watching the way her tits rose and fell with every breath before I finally pulled each scrap of material to the side to reveal her perfect nipples. They were already hard as I gently blew air across them. She didn't stir so I began to circle one with my point finger, willing it to get as hard as possible. I move to the next one, training my eyes on her face while making sure to listen for movements outside. Her thighs clenched together before falling open, welcoming me as I finally flicked her nipple with my tongue.

God, she tasted good.

I was so hard it hurt and her hand was against my dick, the ultimate form of torture. I didn't stop licking and sucking her peaked little bud until her head fell to the side, exposing her throat to me.

I felt like such a fucking creep but I couldn't help it. This girl made me crazy. I needed her in all the worst ways. Everytime I fucked my girlfriend I had to imagine it was this girl just so I could get off. It was wrong but I was only with her to make Y/N jealous.

I leaned into her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her skin and the shampoo in her hair. I resisted the urge to mark her pretty throat. Rafe would lose his fucking shit and the truce would be over if I left a hickey on her. It was tempting but I pulled back just as she stirred again and her hand brushed against my cock. I sucked in a breath through my nose before reaching down to free myself from my shorts. My cock rested against her hand and I watched as precum wept from the tip, onto her delicate fingers.

I grit my teeth before reaching down to wrap her hand around my cock and slowly use her hand to jerk myself off. I was on the verge of moaning and cumming from this alone so I took her nipple into my mouth again to try and distract myself from the best handsy I'd ever gotten.

Finally, I pulled away and let her hand drop before I moved to the foot of the tent. There was still no movement from outside so I carefully widened her legs further to get a look at her plump, wet pussy, the fabric of her bikini bottoms were damp with her arousal. I positioned myself on my stomach between her thighs and pressed my nose to the fabric, savoring the way she fucking smelled. I needed to get it together or I was going to run out of time.

I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning when I slowly pulled the fabric to the side and found her slick with arousal, just like I knew she would be. She was waxed and so goddamn smooth. I used my hands to open her up and present myself with her clit. The swollen nub was already darkening in color, ready to be sucked.

I stuck my tongue out flat and swiped it from her entrance to her clit, her taste making me almost blow my load right then. I watched her face for signs of movement as I did it again and again. I tried to take my time while I tasted her when really all I wanted to do was feast like a starved man. I needed to die in this pussy.

When I sucked her clit into my mouth and her legs tightened, I stopped, my eyes trained on her unmoving face. I moved lower, teasing her entrance with my tongue and her brows finally pulled together, the first sign of consciousness I'd seen on her.

I thrust my tongue inside her sweet, wet pussy and her toes immediately curled. I couldn't stop fucking her with my tongue. She was so wet that it was running down my chin, onto my chest while it absolutely just poured out of her like a fountain. Finally a soft hum left her lips and I froze for a moment before carefully moving to my knees as I tried to listen for Rafe outside.

"R-Rafe--." She moaned softly, sliding her legs together and turning on her side. Fire blazed through my blood, my hands balling into fists as I grit my teeth so hard, I feared they might shatter. She's dreaming about fucking Rafe.

I didn't think as I rolled her the rest of the way to her stomach and tucked her thong bikini to the side after shoving her legs together. I straddled her body, freeing my cock again and watching it drip all over her nice ass before I guided it through her slick. Pissed off didn't even begin to describe how I was feeling now. It took every ounce of strength I had left to resist the urge to bury my cock in her in one hard thrust but I didn't.

I eased the tip in as I leaned over her back, blood filling my mouth where I've bit my lip. The tight, wet heat of her pussy washed over me, her walls already pulsing as she pulled me in deeper. I leaned down next to her face, moving her hair out of the way as my pelvis became flush with her ass, and kissed the shell of her ear.

"Who's cock is inside you right now?" I can't help but growl, as I start to roll my hips back and forth. Her breathing picks up, her body reacting to mine as I fuck her with short thrusts, attempting to avoid the slapping sound of skin on skin. Her hands fist the sleeping bag next to her head and I grin before looking between our bodies to watch my cock pull out covered in her white, creamy substance before driving back inside her. I lower myself to her back and drag my tongue up her spine, leaving goosebumps all over her skin as I find her ear again.

"Who's fucking you right now?" I growl, her pussy walls quiver hard as she nears her release. Fuck, I'm right there too. I need to pull out. Rafe can't know I was here or I risk throwing away the truce between the Pogues and Kooks but fuck, I don't think the devil himself could stop me right now. A darker part of me wants to mark her insides with my cum just to claim her then watch it drip. Fuck what Rafe thinks.

I cover her hands with my own, her fingers immediately locking with mine in a tight grip. Every inch of her is drawn tight as she approaches her release, her brows pulled together as she fights to maintain the ruse of being asleep. I want to fuck her harder, faster, but I know we’ll get caught if I lose control.

"I should roll you on your back and make you watch as I fuck my cum into you. Sluts like you deserve to be filled up and left." I keep my voice low in her ear and a small gasp leaves her lips, her eyes finally fluttering open to gaze up at me. I'm not sure if she's afraid or pleading. Afraid I'll stop or pleading for me to continue. She looks hot regardless.

"I--." Her whisper is cut off as she cums hard, practically soaking us both as her eyes roll into the back of her head and she trembles beneath me. I growl, driving myself into her harder as cum shoots deep inside her whether I want it to or not. I grab a fistful of her hair, my mouth at her ear as I cum and cum and cum. It's so much that I can't stop.

"Look at me. Look at who's fucking you, who's cum is inside you." I snap in a low voice but she shakes her head, refusing to look at me.

"Look at me or I'll stop. I know you're gonna cum again. Open your fucking eyes and say my name." Her lips tremble just as her eyes snap open and another orgasm washes over her. The fire in her eyes morphs to one of raw desire just as her lips part on a breathless moan and I hear what I've been dying to hear all night.

"J--." Her mouth clamps closed again as she shakes hard beneath me. I fuck her through it until my own body is shaking from overstimulation and I have no choice but slow to a stop.

Her eyes are heavy for a few moments before they narrow on me, that fire back. I lean in to kiss her, wanting to feel her lips just once but she turns her head, jutting out her chin.

“My cum is leaking out of you and you won’t kiss me?” I rasp in her ear, feeling her body tighten and my cock jerks inside her.

“I hate you.” She bites out, watching as I slowly pull out. I can feel we’ve made a mess and for a few seconds I can’t find it in me to give a fuck. I don’t want to pull out. I’m not ready for this to be over. If anything I want to keep going until the sun comes up and we have no choice but to face Rafe.

“You can hate me all you want but you loved every second of it.” I grab Rafe’s towel and clean her up the best I can before she slaps my hand away and does it herself.

“You’re a piece of shit. I thought you were Rafe.” She hisses, grabbing one of Rafe’s shirts and yanking it over her head, her eyes glancing at my sleeping girlfriend that I’d forgotten about.

I open my mouth to argue when I hear steps shuffling in the sand right outside the tent. There’s the distinct sound of vomiting and gagging as we both scramble to right ourselves and appear to be sleeping. I give her my back and quickly throw my arm over my sleeping girlfriend just as the zipper is pulled back.

“Fuck.” I hear Rafe grumble as he drops down on the sleeping bag next to me. There’s shuffling and I hear her gasp. My teeth grind together at the sound of their heavy breathing. He’s so drunk that he’s gonna fuck her with me in here, not even realizing she’s already full of me.

“Rafe..” I hear her whisper then she gasps as he no doubt buries himself inside her.

“God, you’re so wet. Miss me, baby?”

[sutorus]

imagine having a sleep over at megumis and toji decides to steal you away once he finally passes out 😮‍💨 his shirts and sweats probably have cigarettes burns in them

you gave me sm toji brain rot

-🫧 anon

we gave each other toji brainrot anon 🤝 kind of a part 2 to the kinktober toji fic

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, unprotected, mild daddy kink, some anal play, degradation, toji being toji

you’re shifting on your feet, lips trapped between your teeth as you ring the doorbell. you’re early to the sleepover by a full hour.

you don’t know what you want to expect. if it’s toji, sitting on the couch, glass of some cheap shit on the armrest and hand tucked into his sweats.

or if it’s megumi, waiting at the door, bowl of popcorn by his hip and tv blasting because his dad isn’t home to scowl about the noise.

megumi does open the door. and toji does sit there.

and somehow, that’s the least likely, worst case scenario.

“hey,” megumi greets you, stepping aside to let you in.

toji doesn’t spare you a glance, so you let your eyes travel all over him. his bare feet propped up on the center table, his arm behind his head and fingers scratching his hair.

megumi notices you looking and — thankfully — only clicks his tongue, believing you’re just as irritated at his father’s presence as he is.

and are you? you’re unsure.

you don’t know how to face toji. you don’t know how to interact with him anymore, if you even should.

you sleep over at megumi’s house all the time, but right now you suddenly forgot how it even goes. do you take your shoes off at the genkan? do you leave your bag by the door?

you decide to just walk to megumi’s room wordlessly, taking the long way behind the couch as to not block toji’s view from the tv.

this doesn’t go unnoticed by either men.

megumi follows you inside, closing the door behind him and plopping down on his bed.

“so are we starting with the first movie?” he flips his laptop open. “it’s the best one, anyway.”

“uh, yeah, sure,” you sit down beside him hesitantly.

you’re just now noticing how much megumi and toji look alike and it’s freaking you out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you today?” blunt as always. blunt as toji.

“huh? dude, chill,” you lie down, placing the laptop on your lap. megumi eyes you suspiciously before lying down beside you. “i just didn’t sleep much last night.”

“right,” he says, skeptical but disinterested, and presses play.

every minute of the movie is torture — on the screen and in your head.

around the beginning of saw iii, megumi orders pizza. him, you and toji eat in silence.

complete silence. he doesn’t even look at you.

why isn’t he looking at you? you’re in your pajamas already. no bra. short shorts. you thought you’d both established that that worked on him.

toji wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up, with a grunted clean up when you’re done.

it’s so frustrating, the total lack of attention, and you’re starting to get pent up. settling back down next to megumi to watch fucking saw iv and hear him question the viability of each trap drives you crazier by the minute.

when you finally tuck in for the night, you’re anything but relaxed.

what happened to “you have one more hole for me to wreck don’t you”? toji’s so full of shit, probably too drunk to even get it up tonight anyway.

it’s those angry thoughts that lull you to slumber, regret settling deep in your gut for having ever let that horrible man inside you.

not long after you fall asleep, however, you’re stirred awake, a soft, sake-soaked breeze blowing over your face.

you crack one eye open, no surprise in your gaze because who else could it be.

toji’s smirking, crouched down, eyes searching all over your sleeping form. it sends a chill down your spine.

what do you want, you mouth to him, anger persisting against the arousal already starting to build within you.

his grin grows wider, wilder. he gets up slowly and beckons with two fingers, and like the silly fucking slut you are, you follow.

you — not toji — make sure to gingerly close the door to megumi’s room before you turn around to face him. or rather, face his chest, the flimsy cloth littered with cigarette burns that covers those muscles you finally got to know so well.

“hello?” is all you can manage to say.

he loves your indignation, loves the brattiness, will love to fuck it out of you tonight, too.

“what, don’t want it?”

you roll your eyes.

“you had to wait until megumi’s right there to say you wanna do it?” your focus wavers as he runs his hands up and down your waist. “you couldn’t have pulled me aside before?”

toji presses his leer to the side of your throat, caging you in against the wall right by the door. you let out a soft moan, hands already reaching for his arms.

“had to make sure you two weren’t gettin’ it on,” he growls into the crock of your neck, making you grimace in disgust. “i don’t like to share my toys, y’know.”

“ew, he’s your son,” the irony in your statement isn’t lost on you, the person you should actually be ewing at.

you push him away and the feeling of his abs under your palms is enough to break any rest of resolve you had in you.

toji lets out a low, satisfied laugh, throwing his head back. “exactly why i worry.”

soon enough, and unsusprisingly, he has you bent over the kitchen island, pussy stretched out and dripping on his thick cock.

“shut the fuck up,” he keeps saying when you moan, only to fuck you harder and faster and deeper.

the furniture is digging into your belly, your forearms skidding on the top. you whine softly, angling your hips so he can hit that one spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“ohhh yeah, fuck back into me,” he grabs your hair and you let out a yelp, punished with a blow to your ass. still, you do as you’re told, the sounds of your skin slapping against his growing louder, quicker.

“t-touch me, touch me, make me cum,” you beg in a desperate whisper, head straining in his grip.

toji laughs, dragging his cock out of you slowly before plunging all the way back in.

“shut up, slut,” and god, why is that so hot to you, “last i checked you weren’t in a position to make demands.”

you whimper, trying to snake a hand down your clit to do it yourself.

suddenly, toji stops.

“ah, that reminds me,” he slowly, torturously slowly to make you feel every inch of him, pulls out of you completely. then he pokes your asshole with the head of his cock.

“no,” you say in a panicked breath, trying to turn around in his grip. “no, no, not today, definitely not right now no—“

“shhh, fuck, be quiet,” he wraps his entire forearm around your throat and brings your body into his chest, nibbling at your jaw. “you’re gonna like it.”

“i don’t want to,” it’s one last attempt, the most honest one you have. toji likes fucking with you, flustering you, that much is obvious.

but is he seriously— and without any prep, too?—

he chuckles low in his throat, right into your ear.

“then ask me not to.”

he slides the tip back into your cunt and you relax a little, even moving your hips back and forth like hey! look how good my pussy is! can you just stay in it and not ruin my ass please!

“please don’t fuck my ass,” you try.

“hmm,” he hums, sliding his cockhead out. then back in. then back out.

“please, toji, don’t fuck my asshole tonight,” you clench around him, trying to take more of his length inside.

“not good enough, whore,” he slams all way back in, shoving your body into the sharp wood and making you wail. toji starts moving, fucking little noises out of you with every thrust. “say, ‘no please daddy not there, not my little asshole!’”

you let out a long, pitchy whine, clawing at the arm around your neck.

“do it or else,” toji gathers up some wetness at your entrance with your thumb and presses it to your asshole, rubbing little wet circles.

“fuck you, toj—ahh,” his finger slips inside and you clench down hard. “please! please daddy not there, not my—“

toji cackles, fucking you in earnest now, plowing every word and thought out of your brain. you’re grunting with the force of his thrusts, finding purchase in the edges of the kitchen island, knuckles turning white.

“such a good little girl, aren’t ya,” he says into the shell of your ear, snaking a hand around your hip to rub your puffy clit.

you throw your head back onto his shoulder, legs shaking in between his. “ahhh, fuck, d-daddy—“

your orgasm washes over you so forcefully that you feel like folding in two, going limp in toji’s grip as he chases his own.

he buries a few low, animalistic grunts into your hair before he’s filling up your cunt, aborted little thrusts pushing out staccato breaths from his lips.

he releases his grip on you, cock still spurting out the rest of his load.

once he pulls out, toji keeps feeding his cum into your pussy over and over, telling you to watch the floors before you have to limp your way to the bathroom to clean up.

you do the best you can without taking a shower, body so thoroughly exhausted that you don’t even know if you’d have the energy for one.

right now, all you want is to plop down on a soft surface and get some much needed sleep, feeling actually satisfied.

when you leave the bathroom, you’re faced with a groggy, disheveled megumi standing by his bedroom door.

your eyes quickly scan your surroundings.

toji is nowhere to be seen.

megumi’s eyes reveal nothing, none of the thoughts that might be going through his head right now.

as for you, there’s only one word bouncing around inside your skull:

fuck.

a/n sorry again

[hannieehaee]

thoughts on perv!hoshi 👉👈

18+ / mdi

content: perv!hoshi, f2l!hoshi, he has a huge crush on you, he's a tiny bit pathetic, some second hand embarrassment, panty sniffing, afab reader, smut, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1310

a/n: finally a hoshi request!!!!! everyone cheered

masterlist

"o-oh fuck, fuck! it's so good, so fucking good ..."

all that could be heard in the dark room was the slapping of skin accompanied by soonyoung's pathetic whimpers as he yet again engaged in such a shameful act.

he was unable to help himself despite knowing how incredibly ashamed he would be if you were to catch him in what had now become a daily endeavor.

soonyoung groaned and whimpered as he jerked himself off with a pair of used panties he had swiped from your room during his last visit, all while his eyes focused on the latest thirst trap you had posted on your close friends stories on instagram – okay, maybe it wasnt a thirst trap in itself, but your tiny little dress allowed him to see just enough skin to get him going.

was he embarrassed? beyond so. but his carnal needs could not be helped when his best friend happened to be the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on. you were the softest and most beautiful thing soonyoung had ever seen, but being your friend was entirely torturous.

as your best friend, soonyoung had to constantly hold back from letting his eyes wander into places they didnt belong. he had to restrict himself in being as touchy with you as he was with other friends, not wanting to risk the inevitable boner that would arise. and the worst of all? he had to jack off in the darkness of his room any time you facetimed him late at night when you were bored, growing far too horny at the sight of you in your skimpy pajamas, laid in bed all pretty for him.

yes, maybe restricting himself in such ways was dumb. maybe not confessing to you years back when he first met you was one of his biggest regrets. but it was too late now for him to ever get you to be his in the ways he wanted you to.

in a perfect world, he liked to imagine the day he'd finally grow the balls to walk into your life and sweep you off your feet, but for now he was stuck finding satisfaction in the form of some lacy panties and the pretty pictures lighting up his screen.

thats how the following few minutes went by as soonyoung edged himself, picturing your pretty eyes staring up at him as you jerked him off, sadistic in the way you'd coo at him any time you'd rob him of his orgasm.

oh, how badly he wanted you to mock him and torment him as he begged you to give him his release. there was nothing in this world he wouldn't do to get you to use him like a toy and steal all pleasure from him for your own selfish benefit. his biggest desire was for you to claim your high on his cock time and time again as he-

"soonie?"

soonyoung's movements halted immediately, somehow not having noticed the new source of light coming from the door you had just opened, peaking into his room as you got the perfect view of his shameful act – him in his underwear, one hand digging into his boxers while the other held your panties to his face, phone lying in front of him at full brightness as it displayed a photo of you.

there was no good way to explain this situation without incriminating himself further.

"y/n, i- it's not what- it's not what you think!" he scrambled to get himself presentable, throwing the phone to the side in hopes it evaporated somehow and letting your panties fall to the side of the bed. unfortunately, his cock still remained tall and proud under his boxers as his hands attempted to cover the sight from you.

you hesitantly stepped further into the room, closing his door behind you as you stared intently at him, no readable expression in your face.

"i swear, this isnt as bad as it looks, i- i was just, uh, fuck. this is the first time i ever do this, okay? i wouldnt- i would never want to make you feel uncomfortable or disrespected or-"

his nonsensical rambles seemed to finally come to and end when you decidedly started marching towards him, putting your hands on his cheeks to press your lips against his own in a rather aggressive kiss.

soonyoung, still extremely horny and never one to turn down a good time, wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you onto the bed, causing you to naturally straddle him as the two of you made out.

his pathetic whimpers filled the room as your tongue invaded his mouth, fighting and suckling his own. your hips began moving against his own the moment you felt his boner pressing up against your crotch.

oh, fuck. how was he supposed to survive against you like this? how, when you were grinding against him so sensually and letting him get his fill of your body as his hands explored and squeezed at every delicious curve?

soonyoung was a gone man already, but he absolutely lost his mind when you disconnected from him, throwing off the boy shorts and tank too you had been wearing – had you come over in your pajamas? – before helping him rid himself of his boxers. without warning, you sat on him, throwing your head back as he filled you up.

wordlessly, you bounced on him, rendering soonyoung completely powerless under you as he did not dare question your sudden appearance nor your sudden thirst for him. he would take whatever you have him with no question.

"soo- soonie, fuck. so fucking pretty ... is this what you wanted? huh? wanted me bouncing on you like this, baby?"

you patronized him continuously as you rode him, knowing he was too drunk on bliss to form a coherent response. your hands explored his body, pulling at his nipples and scratching at his chest in order to optimize the cries he let out for you.

his orgasm came embarrassingly fast, but to be fair, he had had a head start before your sudden arrival. luckily for him, your hand had gone down to play with your clit halfway through your fucking, making your high arrive just on time with his own.

"s-so good, fuck. it's so good ... such a good pussy, fuck. always wanted this p-pussy ... my perfect fucking pussy ..." he whimpered, pressing his head against the bed as he writhed under you.

when it was all said and done, you laid yourself on his chest, not taking him out as you enjoyed the fullness be provided. your lips found his chest, pressing loving kisses against it as he sighed in contentment.

"does this mean-"

"you're far too obvious, soonie," you giggled, "you've stolen five pairs of panties and never given them back. plus, i got a notification when you took a screenshot of my story."

"oh, ah, i-"

"i didnt think id catch you in the act, but i thought id catch you off guard, and man, did i ever," you laughed (at him or with him, he wasnt sure).

"so ... you're not mad?", he turned the two of you around, making you lay beside him as he held you in his arms, dick still plunged inside you.

"no, soonie. i have to admit ... it was kinda hot how much you wanted me," a small blush made its way to your cheeks, not too noticeable for the naked eye, but soonyoung was an expert in all things you, so he caught sight of it.

"oh?", he grinned, "you know that means i'm just gonna keep stealing your panties, right?"

slapping his chest in jest, you leaned up to kiss his lips, whispering against them, "why steal my panties when you can have the real thing?"

oh, fuck.

thank god you arrived unannounced.

[zayneternal]

☾ Midnight Ties ☽

summary ↠  When Deepspace Hunter, Mina Osaki, finds herself unable to sleep in the cold and quiet of the N109 Zone Safehouse, she instead runs headfirst into the one person who puts her most on edge--and this time, he's injured. [Main Story Spoilers | References to "Midnight Stealth" Memory]

genre ↠  angst (mild moments of fluff) with him↠  Sylus warnings ↠  Long Awaited Reverly Spoilers word count ↠ 13.4k

~

I’m unsure what jolts me from sleep. Then again, it’s far from the first time I’ve woken in the midnight hours over the last few weeks. I can’t really say I’ve ever been sure of why sleep eludes me here.

Sitting up in the too-big bed made up of too-soft sheets, I rub my knuckles against my eyes, willing them to adjust to the darkness of the cold and quiet bedroom. I’ve lost track of how many days it’s been since I arrived back to this place, but this part of the routine is one of the few reliable parts of my day, for better or worse. 

I huff out a breath, debating on if I should fall backwards onto the mussed sheets of the massive mattress and try to close my eyes once again, but the idea of staring at the back of my eyelids in this deafening silence sounds like the worst form of torture. Instead, I kick my legs over the edge, flinching at the feeling of the ice cold marble floor against my bare feet. 

Would it kill someone to turn the heat up in this place? Even as the thought enters my mind, I scoff to myself, knowing the head of this household probably would kill someone for even attempting it.

Hesitating by the bed for a moment, I glance down at my sparse attire of cotton shorts and a mismatched tank top, wondering if I should find an extra layer to don. Then I recall how unnervingly empty this place becomes at night and decide against it. It’s not like there’s ever anyone to pass by in the lengthy hallways this late…or is it early? I never know. 

Wrapping my arms around myself, I set towards the large mahogany door of the bedroom, snapping the lock open before pulling the heavy wood backwards. I’m not sure why I bother to lock the door–it’s not as if it would truly keep him out if his mind was set on entering. Maybe it’s because some stubborn part of me doesn’t want to make it too easy on him…or maybe I’m a little too reliant on the extra measures of boundary between the two of us.

Shaking my head of the thought, I pull the door closed behind me and step into the long hallway lined with many other doors identical to my own. I’ve not been inside most of them, but I imagine they’re more spare rooms, though as to who they’re for, I don’t know. The occupants of this residence have a tendency to make themselves quite scarce. And who could blame them?

The light in the hall is dim, giving me just enough illumination to help avoid bumping into the various vases and vanities that line the corridor. I hate how quiet it gets here, especially on the nights I’m unable to fall back to sleep and end up wandering to find something to occupy my mind. It’s like I can almost hear the air whispering next to my ears. It’s drives me crazy. 

Luckily, I make it to the end of the hall just before the raging silence threatens to overwhelm me, and turn right into the open floor plan of the main living space. There are windows here that line one of the walls, overlooking the vast expanse that is the N109 Zone.

My first night here, I remember the view being somewhat deterring, what with the abandoned buildings littering the skyline and the ever-present darkness shrouding the seedy city life bustling far below. But as the nights progressed and sleep came few and far between, I found myself coming to these windows more and more often, surprisingly intrigued by how the view had morphed.

I silently shuffle towards the large length of cushioned sofa that curls around the living space, it’s end jutting up to the window, and curl myself against it. Allowing my head to fall sideways against the back of the couch, knees drawn to my chest to preserve what little warmth there is in the air, I gaze across the N109 Zone, languidly taking in the sights. It’s fascinating how differently I see the world below me now.

Where I once saw what were shady business dealings in the back alleys beneath, I now see citizens of the zone coming home to family at the end of a long day. Where I once saw destitute and rundown infrastructure, I now see life budding out of something once broken–I see people. A community. If I train my ears just right, I can even hear the jubilation of music and laughter spilling out of what I assume is a local pub on the street below. 

The N109 Zone is still a treacherous place for the wrong people–it certainly was for me before he offered me respite in his own twisted way–but the longer I stay, the more I see what was once black and white as more gray and muddled. There is also good to be found here. 

I begin to slip into a comfortable lethargy as I continue to watch the city breathe when I suddenly hear a loud shuffling at the door behind me. 

Swiftly whipping my gaze from the window to the door across the room, I hug my knees tighter as it swings open, revealing a very familiar silhouette in the darkened doorway.

“Shit–” he hisses in a way that sounds like he’s struggling to keep quiet. His towering frame falters as he steps forward, tilting to the side before he catches himself messily on the open door. 

I hold my breath, squinting in the low light to see his right hand stretched against the left side of his abdomen, pressing something against it. He regains his composure once more, lifting off the door long enough to turn and slowly close it behind him. 

I don’t speak as he starts to move again. I can’t tell if he knows I’m there, and for some reason, I don’t bring myself to reveal my presence just yet. Instead, I watch as he attempts to make for the kitchen that sits against the opposite wall of the open room. He manages to get to the edge of the island counter before his weight gives way again and he slumps against the smooth surface.

“Damn it,” he curses through gritted teeth, trying to keep quiet again. My eyes widen as I suddenly realize he must be injured. The hand clutching his ribs, the slight limp to his walk, the way he can’t seem to hold himself upright. What happened to him?

I’m aware that the midnight hours in the N109 Zone are when the the work day is just beginning for groups like Onychinus. Dealings within the illegal crime organizations here are much livlier at night. And that’s doubly true for the household of Onychinus’ leader. As frustrating as it’s been knowing what goes on here at night as someone sworn to protect innocents from threats just like Onychinus, the circumstances of recent months have seemed to trump that mission for now.

A low grunt of pain sweeps me back into the present as the hunched figure in the kitchen pulls himself around to a cabinet pressed against the fridge. He moves to lift his hand to open the dark wood door but winces before he’s even raised it halfway up, yanking his arm back to his side. The faint moonlight filtering in through the windows illuminates the pained look of his sharp profile. 

The sound of him trying to stifle his groans of discomfort spurs me from my hidden spot in the dark. 

“Sylus.”

My soft voice feels swallowed by the darkness and size of the space, but Sylus reacts to the sound instantly, his frame straightening to its full height and his gaze whipping to find me at the edge of the island. He appears confused, then annoyed, nostrils flaring slightly in the moonlight that casts soft shadows along his cheeks. 

It seems like I’ve managed to catch him off guard for the first time since we’ve met. His reaction surprises me in return, and I pause a few feet away from him, my weight shifting a bit nervously. He always has a way of making me a bit nervous. 

Just as quickly as the confusion and annoyance pass over his defined features, they are gone again, replaced now with that air of cool arrogance he’s managed to perfect. His arched brow twitches, the corner of his mouth twisting into the shadow of a smirk I’ve come to know so well. 

“It’s a little late to be wandering the halls, don’t you think, kitten?” The sultry lilt to his deep voice rumbles across the space between us, but I can hear the slight tension lying just beneath the surface of his words, as if he’s struggling to appear put together when, really, he’s in pain.

“You’re hurt,” I state, ignoring his attempt to divert the situation. And ignoring the gooseflesh that threatens to bubble under my skin as his piercing red gaze locks me in place. I have to admit it’s still a bit of a struggle to keep my half of the control in these interactions with him, as much as I’ve tried to grow accustomed to his unique persona. 

Sylus’ mouth twists again as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “You do realize who you’re talking to, don’t you, sweetie?” A flash of his perfectly lined teeth cuts across the darkness. “Or do you not recall the events of the first time we met?”

I do recall. It seems an impossible moment to forget. The sound of the trigger going off against where Sylus had held it against his chest echoes in my mind and I wince. Glancing down to where the corner of his pectoral peeks out between the opened buttons of his black top, I remind myself that there’s no injury to be seen anymore. Only perfectly smooth, pale skin that sits atop the rippling muscle. 

Shaking my head of yet another attempt at distraction, I press myself forward, daring to take a few steps towards him. “I saw you come in,” I admit. “You can barely hold yourself up.”

“I can assure you, I am perfectly fine, Miss Hunter,” he says, low and slow, his eyes remaining fixed intently on my person. 

“Then you won’t mind if I just confirm that for myself, will you?” I feign an innocent look, scrunching my brows in a slightly dramatic show of concern. I hope by keeping the interaction light, he won’t notice how real my concern is. 

The cocked grin on his lips falters ever so slightly, but it doesn’t go without me noticing. He’s certainly confirming something, and it’s not that he’s “perfectly fine”.

I watch as his hand falls away from his side and his arms open in front of him, gesturing down his body. That infuriating smirk is firmly fixed in place. “Help yourself, sweetie.” 

I chew the inside of my cheek, throwing my usual reservations about getting close to him to the wind. My worry for what has him stumbling around in the dead of night trumps my boundaries right now. Steeling my nerves, I close the remaining few feet between the two of us, bare feet padding towards his large figure. 

I can feel his electric gaze burning holes into me as I approach, but I keep my eyes fixed on his torso, irises flitting from his broad shoulders, down the length of his pale forearms, over the expanse of his open palms, and across the plane of his narrow waist. At first look, nothing seems amiss, his composure remaining intact. Squinting slightly in the dark, however, I notice how the rise and fall of his breaths is uneven and labored, and he’s favoring his weight on his right leg.

I reach my hands forward. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sylus questions, his voice betraying him with a hint of worry. 

“Helping myself,” I counter cooly, willing my nerves to remain strong as my fingertips find purchase on the top button of his slightly askew dress shirt. To my surprise, Sylus allows me to continue without even the slightest step backwards, his arms hanging at his sides. 

I move slowly, hoping my fingers aren’t shaking as much as I feel like they are as I deftly undo button after button. I try not to stare too long at the line of muscled skin that begins to reveal itself down his torso. 

Swallowing dryly, I finally push the two halves of his black button down to the sides, eyes widening with a soft gasp as I take in what I see. The shirt had been covering exactly what I’d feared.

The left side of his ribs are in a sorry state, a semi-deep gash curling around the length of his waist, mottled with a mix of dried and fresh blood, as if the pressure he’d been providing couldn’t staunch the flow. The usually perfectly pale skin surrounding the wound is blossoming with fresh bruises of deep plum. Whatever caused this injury had to have been packing quite the punch. 

What worried me most, though, was the fact that these wounds didn’t seem to be healing. If Sylus could survive a gunshot to the chest by my own hand, then what was the holdup with the self-healing this time? 

“Sylus!” I manage to exclaim in a strained whisper. My hands move to hover over the wound as I rack my brain for any useful piece of the medical training I received in the Hunter’s Academy. I know I at least needed to clean the gash first.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I hear Sylus breathe from above me. I can tell he’s trying to quell my worries, but I don’t imagine a wound like this feels any better than it looks. 

Slight annoyance from somewhere unknown suddenly pricks my chest. I shoot my eyes up to find his face already bent to watch me. Looking up at him from this close, I can feel each of his exhales fall against my mouth, but I push that realization aside and scrunch my brows at him.

“What happened? Where were you? Who did this?” I begin to rattle. My eyes flit back and forth between his, searching his face for any answers he might provide. At the other end of my questioning, Sylus’ expression slowly morphs into a rare sight. The usual facade of arrogance and control slips away to reveal something unusual. Sylus almost appears…sincere.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about me, kitten,” he says softly, his hand raising to reach towards my face before stopping halfway and slowly dropping, as if he second-guessed whatever he was about to do. 

“I am!” I assert, hands gripping the two halves of his open shirt so tightly I realize my knuckles are going white. Sylus’ expressions stutters, the seriousness in my tone giving him pause. I sigh. “Can we please cut the big bad mafia boss act for a second? You need bandaging before this gets worse.” I shake my head, staring at the injury again. “Why hasn’t it started healing on it’s own already?”

Sylus studies my face a moment longer, his usually intense gaze softening as it passes across my features. 

“Would you believe me if I told you this is already better than it started?” His voice has a hint of humor to it, as if he’s still trying to ease my concern. Instead I find myself flinching against the idea that this isn’t even the worst of it. How badly had he been hurt tonight? How much effort had it taken him to get home? 

I want to swat at his chest, but for fear of causing him any more pain, I restrain myself. 

“Mina…” Sylus starts, and the way he utters my name instead of one of his many rotating pet names sends a shiver down my spine. But I refuse to waste anymore time. 

“Lean against the counter,” I instruct, sounding more like a Hunter than the helpless girl I’ve been these past few minutes. Sylus breathes and slowly moves to the side, leaning against the marble countertop obediently. “I’m taking this off.”

I move my hands to the base of his neck, slipping my fingertips under the collar of his dress shirt and attempting to ignore the warmth of his skin in this freezing kitchen as I begin to push the fabric down his toned arms. To my surprise and great relief, Sylus remains silent for once allowing me to work without much distraction. 

The pads of my fingers brush down the length of his muscled arms, following the trail of his shirt until it’s bunched at his wrists. “Your hands, please,” I request, carefully avoiding eye contact as I hold my own hands up. 

As requested, Sylus gently places hands twice the size of my own in my palms, allowing me to undo the cuffs keeping his top from sliding off completely. After pulling the sleeves away from his body, I move to yank the remainder of the shirt from where it’s tucked messily into the waistline of his trousers. Without me asking this time, Sylus raises his arms to assist in the task, wincing again when his left arm agitates the injury.

Nodding in silent appreciation, I wrap my arms around the shape of his hips, giving him a wide birth, and being careful not to get as close as his cologne is causing me to want. Gripping the last of the black fabric and pulling, I’m relieved when it comes lose easily and falls away to the floor.

“Where will I find a first-aid kit?” I finally ask once his torso is bare. I realize I’m looking around the room to avoid looking at him. 

“There.” His slender finger comes into my peripheral vision, poiting towards the cabinet he had originally been trying to open. I nod and turn to open it, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. As I begin to sift through the rows of various medicine bottles, syringes, and vials full of strange liquid, I’m suddenly strikingly aware that I never changed out of my sleepwear and are still donned in nothing but cotton shorts and a tank top. 

I bite your lip, silently cursing to myself as my search continues through the cabinet. There’s not much I can do about it now, I suppose, but knowing I’m under the scrutinizing gaze of Sylus every second of this venture, I feel a mite over exposed. 

Finally, I discover a box of antiseptic, gauze, and painkillers and pull it from the cabinet. When I turn back around, Sylus remains leant against the counter, looking sinfully good in the low light of the darkened kitchen. My breath hitches, knowing I’ve made the mistake of taking in his full figure so present before me, but it becomes harder to avert my gaze every time I see him.

It’s been one of the biggest frustrations of coming back to the N109 Zone. But once I discovered the intrigue of Sylus and my Evol linkage and the strange connection of our Aether Cores, it was an unavoidable trip. The last few weeks, Sylus and I have been seeing a lot more of each other, researching everything we can about what our linkage could be and how to control it. It seemed a little too late when I finally realized my growing nerves and the tension between us might not be from fear anymore. A realization I’ve been more than happy to continue shoving to the depths of my mind. I’ve had more important fish to fry lately. 

I find it hard to swallow as Sylus and I stare at each other, time frozen for a moment. He leans his hips leisurely against the island, legs crossed at the ankles, his palms holding him upright as they rest against the counter behind him. The position he’s in presses his shoulders apart, making them appear even broader than normal, his forearms pusling with the veins that ripple under his skin. 

His face is ethereal, bathed halfway in moonlight and halfway in shadow, the silver locks of his mussed hair falling in silk ribbons across his forehead. And his eyes. Oh, those eyes. Red and depthless and intense and all trained directly on me. I forget to breath as I take in his half-hooded gaze, irises looking lazy and dazed under the fan of his lashes. He looks god-like.

“Something wrong?” Sylus breaks the silence, his words rumbling across the miniscule distance between us. He tilts his head, lips parting slightly. 

“No!” I answer a bit too fast. I see the ghost of a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. “N-No. I found the kit…” 

My steps stutter back towards him, nerves hitching higher the closer we become, but one glance at the wound cutting across his ribs and I’m brought back to reality. He’s hurt and I need to focus. 

Gritting my teeth, I set the open first-aid kit on the counter next to him and remove the antiseptic and clean cloth, blotting the fabric with the medicinal liquid. “This might sting,” I say gently. 

I carefully press the cloth against the edge of the bloody gash, beginning to clean away the majority of the clotted and fresh blood still seeping onto Sylus’ skin. Despite Sylus’ claims that there was no need to worry, he flinches away from the ensuing sting of the cloth with a stifled moan. The noise is enough to make my stomach tighten. 

“Careful, kitten,” he tuts through grit teeth, hands gripping the edge of the counter. 

“I told you it might sting.” I start to smile, finding it a little ironic that the big bad leader of the most well-known crime orginazation in the N109 Zone is brought low by the sting of antiseptic. 

“There’s nothing funny about this situation,” he retorts, sounding almost childlike in his annoyance. 

“There might be a little something funny about it.” I shrug and try to stifle the growth of my grin, but it’s harder than I thought. “It’s just medicine, you big baby.”

Sylus groans again as I make another pass, the muscles in his own stomach tensing and untensing. “Usually the use of medicine is unnecessary.” The last word comes out like a strained hiss when the cloth rubs against the edge of the gash. 

My smile grows further, the corners of my mouth stretching to their limit. I cough to stop the urge to laugh at him. 

“Now that’s a rare sight,” Sylus whispers, the surprised tone of his voice pulling my eyes away from where they were focused on cleaning away more blood.

“What?” I can’t help but ask, tilting my head at his entranced expression. His eyes drop to my lips and linger there a moment longer than they probably should have. 

“That smile,” he admits, the hand opposite his injury lifting as if he’s unconscious of it. The back of his lithe fingers slowly brush against the length of my cheek, and my eyes widen at the feeling. He’s so warm. His own lips part and the tips of his fingers turn to glide along the underside of my mouth, his touch almost phantasmal. 

In his eyes, I see realization dawn and his hand pauses, hesitantly moving back down to his side, as much as I secretly wish it wouldn’t have. He gazes at me and in his expression is a sort of emotion I can’t quite place. He quickly covers whatever it was with a resigned smile, gentler than his usual controlled smirk. 

“I’d like it if you smiled like that more around me,” he confesses. My heart beat turns erratic for a moment. 

“I didn’t realize I hadn’t been,” I offer back, clearing my throat and moving back to my earlier task of cleaning the wound. As the blood clears away with each stroke of the cloth, I begin to get a clearer picture of just how deep this wound must have been for this to be the semi-healed version of it. “Sylus, what happened to you tonight?”

The diversion in topic is a slightly welcome respite from the growing tension. I sneak a quick glance at his face and find his gaze trained on the floor, eyebrows knit with thought. He waits a moment as if deciding whether to stop this line of conversation with one of his carefully crafted deflections or reveal the truth. I’m not sure if its the vulnerable air about tonight or whatever trust I’ve built up with him over these past few weeks, but he eventually sighs and speaks.

“It was a new kind of protocore weapon,” Sylus admits, gesturing to his almost-clean wound.

“A new protocore weapon?” I repeat, shocked and intrugied. “What kind of weapon?”

“I’m not sure.” Sylus shakes his head. “One of the business dealings with a former partner that was planned for tonight didn’t quite meet expectations.” He huffs a laugh to himself, as if recalling the events that lead to his injury. I find them anything but humorous but decide not to press the matter.

“Before I could take control of the situation, one of his men blindsided me,” he continues. I feel anxiety well up in my chest as I listen, but I keep quiet, letting him explain as I continue to clear away the last of the dried blood splattering his ribs. 

“Normally, a wound like this would be nothing but a trivial moment of pain, but once the dust settled, I realized it wasn’t healing over like usual. The blood just kept flowing. I came back here to find a way to mend it before it got much worse.”

“Sylus,” I breathe out once he finishes. I can feel his eyes return to me though I can’t bring myself to look at him again quite yet. “I know there was no way of you knowing what tonight would bring, but…” I swallow, trying to find the right words. “Please be careful.”

“You should see the other guys,” Sylus attempts to joke. “Well, there wasn’t really much of them to see in the end…”

I want to laugh, but find myself unable. The news he’s just shared worries me more than I’d like to admit to him in this moment. A new weapon that seems to temporarily halt Sylus’ self-healing abilities? That was a big, big revelation, and one that has my mind spinning.

“I know that these dealings are part of your job, and that danger comes with the territory, but I…” I trail off, not sure of what I’m wanting to tell him. Or if I’m wanting to tell him. 

“You what?” Sylus presses in a voice almost inaudible. Though I still haven’t looked at his face, I can tell how close he is to me by the sound of his voice. I can feel the tickle of his breath against my ear. When I don’t immediately respond, I jolt at the feeling of Sylus’ fingers snaking their way under my chin and tenderly tugging my gaze away from his wound and back to his awaiting eyes. 

The intensity of his stare almost knocks me to the floor. I might’ve fallen had it not been for the securing grip of his fingers around my chin. His thumb traces long lines against my skin, and I hope he can’t feel the timbre of my heartbeat rocketing against my chest. “You what?” he asks again.

Oh, what dangerous territory I’ve wandered into.

“I-I…” I stammer, the words incoherent in my head. “I need to finish bandaging your wound.”

I raise the ball of gauze between our too-close faces, relief exploding in my stomach at the flimsy boundary it creates. I hear Sylus sigh and chuckle on the other side as his hand slides from my face once more. He leans back a few inches, and I feel like I can breathe again. 

“Very well,” he resigns, returning his arm to his side and allowing me to continue. Sighing in relief, I move to begin wrapping the gauze around his waist when his left hand suddenly moves in tandem with my right. 

“Sylus, cut it out, I need to finish before it starts bleeding again!” I complain, giving him an annoyed look only to be met with his confused expression. 

“I didn’t do that,” he responds, looking down to my hands. “Not voluntarily at least.”

“This isn’t the time for games, just let me–” I move to attempt the gauze wrap a second time when the same thing happens–his hand moves in tandem with mine, blocking the way. Realization dawns on me as I lift our entwined hands into the air. 

“Damn it,” I curse as we both gaze upon the faint misty glow of our Evol linkage at work. Appearing almost as shrouded handcuffs, our mysterious and unexplainable resonance linkage had a nasty habit of forming at the most inopportune times, and this had to have been the worst of those times for it to happen. 

“Your Evol certainly knows how to pick a moment,” Sylus drawls sarcastically, smirking at our joined wrists. I cut him an annoyed glance, groaning to myself. 

“The last time we linked, it lasted. All. Day.” I recall last week when our resonance linkage decided to make an appearance over breakfast when Sylus leaned a little too close to me to grab the butter across the table. We spent the rest of that rainy day uncomfortably packed behind Sylus’ office desk researching ways to disengage the link at will. Obviously, we had no luck. 

“Well we can’t blame that on the Evol, now can we?” Sylus gives me a knowing smirk, and I fight not to roll my eyes as a blush creeps over my cheeks. One thing we both learned early on is that whatever this linkage was, it grew stronger the stronger my emotional, mental…phsyical relationship with the other person grew. 

Sylus has made to tease me about it on numerous occasions, and while I always tried to play it off as an annoyance, the truth was it scared me how long the links had been lasting. I knew it was only a matter of time before the truth was out in the open and he realized how deep the change in my feelings towards him went. Who knows how long this link would last? And in the middle of the night, no less. 

I’d have to learn how to control this resonance business sooner rather than later. Before long, the link might form and never break, and that was a thought that made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

“Well…” I start, frustration and embarrassment mixing together in my throat. “You’re just going to have to work with me to get these bandages on. Then we can worry about the link.” 

Sylus chuckles at the sour expression I wear but nods in agreement, holding out his hand. It takes a few attempts, but we both manage to figure out a pattern of pass and pull that works well enough at getting the gauze wrapped around his waist without too much contortion. The silence we both work in allows me to calm down and throw myself into my task. It’s all too much to think through at the moment. 

A few more moments of blissful silence pass, the gauze almost completely in place, when Sylus speaks again. “Mina…”

“Yes?” I stay focused on the wrapping.

“Why were you awake at this hour?” 

The sincerity in his voice almost makes my hands stutter in their rotation. It seems for the moment, whatever form of his true self that lies beneath the cocky exterior was paying a visit. 

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” I shrug, confiding in him.

Another pause. “Is the bed not comfortable?” 

“It’s perfectly comfortable,” I smile softly to myself.

“Is is it too hot? Too cold?” 

“It’s freezing in this house all the time,” I laugh. “But that’s not why.”

“Are Kieran and Luke making too much noise when they come back? Is Mephisto bothering you?”

I continue laughing as the gauze goes around once more.

“Why are you laughing?” Sylus inquires. Even without looking at him, I can see the puzzled expression he wears. “I don’t see what’s funny.”

“You’re what’s funny,” I grin wider. “You’re usually not so full of questions.”

“I’m simply trying to fix whatever is keeping you awake. A Hunter needs to sleep through the night.”

My hands pause on the last rotation of the gauze, eyes zoning out on where it crosses over Sylus’ ribs. “I don’t know why I can’t sleep. I just find it hard here.”

I glance up to see Sylus gazing intently at you. He always seems to be doing that. This time there is a hint of worry laced in his scrunched features. 

“I’m fine, though,” I reassure him quickly, my mouth twitching into a soft smile as I remember his earlier request. “I like coming here to watch the city. It’s relaxing.” My head tilts to gesture to the spot on the couch I’ve claimed for myself each night, the city scape stretching far beyond it. 

Sylus follows my gesture and stares out the far window himself for a moment before coming back to rest on me. His face contorts as if he’s thinking hard about something before he quietly clears his throat.

“You’re not…are you…” It was so unlike Sylus to be lost for words. “Are you not used to sleeping alone?”

There’s a question within his question. One I’m caught off guard to answer. 

“What? I–no,” I’m quick to respond. “I’m used to it. Very used to it.”

There’s a strange wash of relief over Sylus’ face at my response that has my insides knotting up.

“I’m not sure what it is,” I decide to continue, finally finishing the last wrap of the gauze and managing to secure it in place with my un-linked hand. With Sylus fully clean and bandaged, I drop my hands, unsure of what to do now. 

After a beat of silence, Sylus glances back to the spot I gestured to on the couch and then to me. He tilts his head towards the window. “Care to show me the view of my city you’ve been enjoying?”

I look at him a little surprised by his request. My city. The more I get to know Sylus, the more I find myself forgetting how much influence and power he has here. To think that a few months ago I was hearing the name “Onychinus” for the first time, and now here I was, linked to it’s very leader, the most dangerous and powerful figure in the N109 Zone. 

This man standing before me has become familiar in a way I wasn't expecting. He doesn’t scare me like he used to, and I find it hard to believe that he’s the one I spent so long hating before everything changed. 

“Yes,” I finally whisper in response, smiling shyly in an almost childlike excitement to share this thing I’ve come to find comfort in. 

“Then shall we?” Sylus gestures for me to lead the way back to the couch, and I oblige, turning to leave behind the bloodied shirt and messy first-aid kit in the kitchen and return to the view that originally pulled me out of my room. 

When I reach the sofa, however, I realize quickly that sitting sideways to face the window with our hands linked the way they are is going to be an uncomfortable task. “Maybe if we…” I try sitting in a few different ways, but every position has either me or Sylus craning our shoulder in an odd way. 

Sylus watches as I try to puzzle my way into the right positioning, but it’s to no avail. “Maybe we should just stand?” I laugh to myself, trying to hide my slight embarrassment. 

Sylus smirks softly at me. “Come here,” he coos in that sultry way of his, the in-control and confident leader making a reappearance as he descends sideways against the cushions of the couch and pulls me with him. I can’t do anything but fall the short distance straight into his lap, his legs parted to make the perfect place for me to land. 

My heart rachets into mythroat as he presses me gently back against his broad chest, my head tucked just beneath his chin. I pray vehemently that he can’t feel my heartbeat against him and thank the powers that be that he can’t see how heated my face is in this position. 

I realize quickly that his idea was a sound one, though, as he wraps his long arms around my waist, bringing his linked wrist to rest just under where mine hovers awkwardly. He leans back agains the couch, sighing contendently, and I can feel the remnants of his deep voice vibrating against my back. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers against your ear. I struggle not to fling myself away from him from the sheer shock of it. 

Steeling myself, I breathe to calm down. “Ye-Yes. It’s fine.”

Sylus’ responding chuckle sends shivers across my arms and legs. “You can rest your hands, sweetie. No need to keep them hovering in the air like that.”

I blush violently again, and try to find where to rest them but everywhere seems too intimate, too close. 

As if sensing my hesitancy, Sylus reaches his fingers towards mine and slides each digit between my own, dragging your now-encased hands into my lap. He’s always been far too confident for his own good. 

“Comfortable?” he questions once our hands are settled. I want to laugh at him because this is the most on edge I’ve felt in my whole life. My heart is hammering against my ribs, my stomach is tensed in knots and I can almost promise my hands are quickly becoming clammy against the smooth, warm skin of his own .

“Yes,” I manage to lie, but he only laughs again, deep and slow and far too close to my ear. 

“Too cute,” he says so quietly, I’m not sure I was meant to hear. 

“Won’t I hurt you in this position?” I concernedly ask, turing my head slightly to make sure I’m not pressed against his injury. 

“I’m the farthest from in pain I could be,” Sylus responds, the tip of his nose brushing along my turned cheek. Before I can even manage a yelp of surprise, Sylus continues. “Show me this city you’ve been watching,”

Grateful for the change in focus, I turn back to the window, calming slightly as I gaze back across the city, still unchanged in the last hour. Inside, however, I’m now not alone and it doesn’t feel so eerily quiet. Instead, Sylus is pressed so close that I can feel the rise and fall of his steady breathing, each exhale cascading against my shoulder. I can feel the pulsing of his heart all the way in this fingertips as they remain wrapped around mine, his thumb brushing abscently back and forth across the back of my palm. 

I begin to point out the little scenes in the city below that calm me the most–the life of the pub below, the rooftop garden a few highrises away, the flocks of birds that fly overhead. With each scene I reveal to Sylus, the more relaxed I begin to feel. He doesn’t say much in response to my narration, only offering the occasional hums of acknowledgement or squeeze of my hand.

After a few minutes of my rambling, I turn my face slightly to make sure he hasn’t drifted off to sleep, but am instead met with his face mere centimeters from mine, his eyes already locked on my face. I wonder if he’s been watching me the whole time I’ve been talking…

“Yes, I have,” Sylus responds lowly, and I jump, eyes widening as he grins at me. 

“Did I say that outloud?” My free hand goes to cover my mouth in embarrassment. 

There is a brand new kind of mirth in Sylus’ eyes, one I’ve not been witness too this close. It sucks the breath from my lungs. 

“I’ve seen this city from every angle, at every time of day, in every circumstance,” Sylus goes on, never looking away from me. “But you, little bird…”

I struggle to keep my composure in check.

“I’ve waited a long time to discover you.” 

I think I might die. 

“You’ll be fine, I’ve got you.”

Damn it, am I letting every thought slip into the open tonight?

Sylus’ expression goes from bright and humored to inquisitive, as if he’s considering whether or not he should voice his thoughts. He might as well, I’ve let every damn question in my head escape already. It’s only right he joins in. 

“Mina,” he starts, looking almost nervous and very un-Sylus-like. 

“Sylus,” I whisper back, feeling like I’m floating outside of my body. 

His chest hitches slightly, lips parting as he breathes into the silence for a beat. “Earlier…when you told me I should be careful…what were you about to say?”

He sounds breathless, his question hanging in the air between us, our mouths far too close for me to be thinking straight. In the back of my mind, I recall the moment, hesitant even now to utter what I was considering an hour ago. How much would it change things between us? Whatever is left of our boundaries, what little there might be, would surely be gone. I don’t know if that’s for better or for worse. 

“Please tell me.” Sylus leans in closer, his nose brushing against mine, our breaths intermingled. “Please.”

My resolve falters. “I-I…” 

“You what?” Sylus seems almost desperate, his hands tightening around my own. I’ve never seen or heard him like this. It’s a new kind of vulnerable. So I decide to repay it with my own.

“I care about you.” 

And now it’s out in the open between us, hanging there like a bob in the water. The only question is will he bite or reject the offering? 

“I care about you, Sylus,” I whisper again, my free hand raising of it’s own volition to brush down the skin of his face, from the edge of his eyebrow to the corner of his full lips.

Sylus’ breathing becomes heavy, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as something shifts in the air around us. “I hate seeing you hurt, and after tonight, I’m more worried than I wanted to admit about you being out in the city.” I find myself rambling into the growing tension. Anything to ease whatever is building. 

“With this new weapon, I detest the idea of you out there alone…what if you don’t make it home next time?”

“Home…” Is all that Sylus repeats, as if he isn’t fully hearing every word.

I fully cup his face in my hand. As the moments have ticked by, I realize I’ve shifted in his embrace and am somehow almost fully facing him, body halfway turned in his lap as I lean into his strong arms. 

Sylus exhales and leans his face into my touch, brows scrunching up in another emotion I can’t quite read. 

“Is this why…” he begins, eyes dropping to my lips and then back again, “Is this why the links have been lasting so long?”

“...Yes.” My cheeks heat up once more. 

“Fuck,” Sylus hisses to mostly himself, eyes drinking in my expression. 

I curve my brow. “Is that good or bad?”

Sylus manages a breathy chuckle, his arm tightening around my waist now. “Good…very good. You don’t realize how much so.”

Afraid I’ll implode if I read too far into that statement, I continue, “Can I go out into the city with you? To help keep you safe? Please?”

Sylus looks slightly tormented by the question. “I’d be far too worried for your safety to consider my own, kitten.”

“I can take care of myself,” I rebut. “I’m a specially trained Deepspace Hunter, or have you forgotten?”

“I’d never forget something that could put my life in mortal danger,” Sylus responds sarcastically, chuckling softly at my responding annoyance. He strokes my face again and I melt. 

“Let me take care of you,” I try again, leaning further into him, hoping to convey the sincerity of my request. Having said these thoughts out loud after all this time, I feel like a waterfall that can’t help but spill everything I’ve kept dammed up. “I want to take care of you.”

Once again, Sylus appears internally knotted up, his face contorting in an odd mix of confusion and desire. “Do you not know how much you do for me already?” he asks. “How much you’re doing for me in this very moment?” 

“It doesn’t feel like enough, whatever it is,” I admit. “I can do more for you. I can fight.”

“Mina–” he strains out, conflicted. “I know you’re capable, I do, but that’s not–you don’t–”

“I don’t what?”

“Linkon City is not the N109 Zone. You’ve barely scratched the surface of how bad this place can get.”

I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, not in this moment after everything that’s been put out in the open, but his statement pricks my pride and I pull back from him. I can see that I’ve hurt him in his confused expression as I put more distance between us. I’d get up from my spot on his lap if I knew I’d make it more than half a foot without dragging him along with me.

“So you get to go out risking life and limb for your responsibilities, and I just have to sit here on my hands waiting for you to come back every night? IF you come back?”

“No, Mina, that’s not what I’m saying…fuck, I don’t even know…how are we–do we need to talk about this right now?” Sylus runs a hand through his silver locks and I watch as they fall in a messy cascade across his forehead. 

I know this is not the way he probably saw this conversation going. I’m sure he would rather have me close to him and telling him more about how much I care about his wellbeing, and if I was being totally honest with myself, that’s what I wish too, but my pride is stumped against the wall of his double standards. 

Why does he get to call the shots for my well-being but I get no say in his? 

He looks like he’s about to reason with me again, but I shake my head. “I want to go to bed now.” 

Sylus looks at a loss for words, starting at me with his jaw half open. He lifts our still-linked hands and waves them between us, as if to remind me that exiting this conversation isn’t going to be that easy.

I curse quietly to myself, looking away from him and out the window. 

“Mina, please, can we–”

“No, we can’t,” I interrupt. With each passing moment, I feel more and more tense and I don’t know how to calm down. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears, the threat of the waterworks stinging at the back of my eyes, and it’s the most frustrating feeling. 

Sylus, to the credit of his good judgement, is remaining quiet. I can feel him staring at the side of my face, probably wondering where this conversation turned sideways. 

“Let’s go then,” he finally speaks into the growing silence.

I whip my head in this direction. “Go where?”

“To bed. If you’re so keen to sleep right now, then I will oblige.”

I look at him, confused, gesturing to our linked hands. “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?”

Without another word, Sylus scoops his free arm beneath my legs that hang over his lap and pulls. As if I’m the weight of a plushie, I’m hoisted into the air, sitting halfway over Sylus’ bare shoulder and halfway in one arm. I’m immediately annoyed by how strong he is. 

“What are you–where are–”

“To bed,” he interrupts, and I can hear the tension in his own voice. I’m caught between my own frustration and the guilt of causing it, so I keep quiet, huffing in resignation as he turns and begins to trapse easily down the length of the dark hallway. 

I have no idea what his plan is as he walks, wondering if he thinks the Evol link will just dissapear when he gets to my room, but instead he passes right by it. My eyes widen as I watch my heavy mahogany door grow smaller and smaller, Sylus still charging towards the end of the hall. I turn, taking in the ornate, black, double-doors at the head of the hallway…Sylus’ room.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?” I ask, incredulous. 

“To b–”

“If you say “bed” one more damn time, I’ll throttle you here and now.”

Against his stoic resolve, Sylus chuckles, and I have to admit, I struggle to remain annoyed, overjoyed that he can’t see my face hanging over his shoulder.

I’ve only been in Sylus’ room twice, both during a bet to see if I could steal a brooch he’d hidden in return for his help on a mission to find the other half of my Aether Core. That seems so long ago now, though thinking back, that second visit to Sylus’ room was where our relationship started to shift from professional to…whatever is was now. 

I shudder as I think about what it felt like to have him towering over me on that bed for the first time.

And now I was going back in under very different, albeit less enticing, circumstances. 

I take in the familiar surroundings as Sylus pushes through the heavy doors like they’re nothing, making straight for the bed that he deftly plops me down on top of. I look up at him as he stands before me, but I can’t read his expression if my life depended on it. 

“Care to explain how you saw this working?” I try, attempting to break the silence. As the moments pass and he remains like the former version of himself, walled up and unreadable, I feel my frustration beginning to be replaced by nerves and uncertainty. Is all that progress we just made for nothing? Are we back to square one now?

“First, you’ll help me out of these.”

I choke on my breath as Sylus gestures to his belt and slacks, still hugging snuggly to his narrow hips. The moisture in my mouth dries up as my eyes follow the prominent V at the bottom of his torso, the deep rivets leading straight below the button of the very pants he’s requested I help remove.

“I’ll what?”

“If we can bandage a wound while linked like this, I’m certain a simple belt and zipper won’t put up too much of a fight.”

“Sylus, I can’t–”

“If you think I’m sleeping in these in my own bed, you’re sorely mistaken,” he states, matter-of-factly. My jaw drops open. He can’t be serious. “Don’t look too disturbed, sweetie, I’ll do all the heavy lifting.” Sylus smirks as he yanks my linked hand forward. 

At this angle, I have to pull against the momentum to stop my hand from making an…unfortunate collision, and cut my look of shock and annoyance up to to see Sylus looking mighty pleased with himself. 

“Just keep your hand close enough to allow me to work,” he explains. I fight to not roll my eyes. I also fight to keep my cheeks from heating up. I’m beginning to remember how I used to feel in the presence of Sylus before I got through a few more of his layers. This arrogance and smugness always did make me irate. 

I look across the room, finding anything and everything to analyze while I feel my hand being jostled around. I hear the metallic sound of the belt being undone and discarded to the ground. Then the unmistakable sounds of his zipper falling loose and his slacks slipping to the floor. 

“Don’t be too coy, kitten. It’s not like this is isn’t anything you haven’t seen,” Sylus purrs from next to me, and my stomach does a flip against my protestation. 

“Can we just get to the sleeping part?” I try my best to sound as bored as possible. How we went from mere centimeters apart, sharing breaths and encased in each others arms to putting on our best show of “Who Can Care Less?” I'll never know. 

Instead of the smug response I’m expecting back, I hear a low and resigned sigh from next to me and brave a look in Sylus’ direction. His eyes are cast away towards the floor, but mine hungrily graze up his newly bare skin. It’s true it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but that doesn’t make it any less delicious.

His lengthy frame is cut with rippling muscles that sit prettily beneath his luminescent skin. His bandaged and broad torso swims to the narrow line of his black briefs that hug the curve of his meaty thighs like something perfectly tailored. Knowing him, the briefs probably were perfectly tailored. 

I am distracted from my shameless gazing, however, as I return my eyes to his face. He’s still not looking at me…he looks almost sad? I don’t recall ever seeing Sylus downcast, but if that’s not the expression sneaking onto this perfect face, then I don’t know what is. My heart lurches at the sight. 

I watch as he reaches past me to pull the pristinely made sheets away from the headboard, revealing a deepset grey silk. “After you,” he offers, his previous expression masked for the moment. 

My emotions are all over the place, but I keep any thoughts I have to myself as I nod and scoot back on the bed. Sylus is pulled after me by our linked wrists, and if the circumstances were any different right now, I think I might explode from the sight of his lithe frame bending to crawl onto the bed towards me. 

I have to avert my gaze and swiftly burry myself beneath the cool sheets before I heat up anymore. As I settle against the pillow, I feel the bed dip next to me as Sylus does the same. Soon, I feel the silk sheets rise to encase us both, and with a swift flick of Sylus’ fingers, the lights in room go out and we’re plunged into darkness and silence. 

I blink a few times, forcing my eyes to adjust to the lighting. Soon enough, the moonlight bathes everything in the bedroom in a soft glow and I can see the faint outline of the objects around me. I turn my head to the right and gaze out of the large bay window fixed into the far wall. The view of the night sky from here is breathtaking. I can’t help but feel a sense of yearning for the scene only minutes earlier, staring out the window with Sylus so close. 

He’s so close to me now, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore. How did things change so quickly? I forget why I was even frustrated with him…Well, I still remember why, but I don’t know why it was so important. The downfall of pride, I suppose. And now I’m lying in Sylus’ bed more awake than ever before, wallowing in my regret and desperate for some sort of salve to the situation. 

I risk a glance to my left and can make out the sharp outline of Sylus’ profile resting on the pillow next to mine. How many times have I dreamed of this? Of lying next to him in the quiet of the evening? Only there wasn’t this glaring tension resting between us in those dreams. I mentally kick myself for letting my annoyance get the better of me. And just after I’d made so much progress with him. 

I can feel the heat of his hand under the blankets so close to mine, the Evol linking our wrists making it harder to move any farther apart. As I subtly test the pull of the link, I can’t help but feel it’s even shorter than when it first connected. My fingers must be mere centemeters from Sylus’. 

There’s no sound in the room aside from our breathing. If I train my ears just right, I can find the rhythm of Sylus’ inhales and exhales–the only comforting thing in the vicinity. I chew the inside of my cheek as the temptation to move closer to him grows. He’s so close, so warm. And with that warmth so nearby, it intensifies the freezing air of the bedroom, chilling me right to my bones.

My free hand grips the silk sheets, pulling them up to rest just below my chin. I curl my body beneath the covers as tightly as I can, trying to retain any heat I still have from when Sylus’ was holding me against him. It’s no use. I continue to fight against the chill of the air, wondering how Sylus exists in this kind of cold all the time. 

“You’re shaking the whole bed.”

The sound of his voice in the dead silence makes me jump.

“Oh…I’m s-sorry,” I chatter, my chin stuttering from the chill. “It just got so cold…You don’t have an extra blanket in here, do you?”

Instead of responding, I hear him sigh deeply before the bed dips closer to me and I’m suddenly sliding sideways directly into the bare and blazing skin of Sylus himself. He situates our linked wrists in such a way that they are comfortably resting between our bodies. I instinctively curl myself against him, drinking in his heat like water. 

“Better?’ he asks, his voice close by in the darkness. 

I sigh out the last of my chill, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder, not stopping to care that the tension between our unresolved conversation is still sitting stagnant above us. 

“Yes,” I say honestly. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I attempt to close my eyes and find rest. If silence is all that awaits me tonight, I’d rather find solace in slumber and pray that when I wake up, the link will be dissolved. 

My eyes are closed all of a minute before I realize falling back asleep won’t be as easy as I hoped. My insides are too restless, my regret and guilt too heavy. I should say something, I know I should, but I’m not sure how to broach the topic again…

“I care about you, too.”

Once again the low rumble of Sylus’ rough timbre echoes into the silence before I get my chance. I jolt at the unexpected comment and feel him shift his position beside me. In the glow of the moonlight, I lift my head to see his face turned towards me, lids hooded as he finds my eyes. 

Suddenly my heart is pounding again. How does he manage to do that?

“What?” is all I can think to say. 

“I care about you. I realize I never returned the sentiment…earlier.”

“Oh!” I breathe out, caught off guard. “I–That’s…thank you?”

“Thank you?” 

I can hear the start of a chuckle behind his words, and I can’t help but giggle in response at the absurdity of my own. 

“No, not ‘thank you’--well, I mean yes, thank you, but that’s–what I meant to say was…”

“It’s ok, Mina,” he lulls my from my spiral with his calm tone. He turns even more in the darkness until we are both lying facing each other. He looks some kind of otherworldly in this light. “I wanted to you know that I’m not hesitant to bring you with me into the city because I don’t think you’re capable or don’t want you to worry for my well-being.”

I purse my lips, studying his face. His expression is still sadder than I’d like it to be, as if he’s been mulling these words over and over, unsure of how I’d respond. 

“I know,” I agree, earnestly. “But then why–”

“I care about you, too,” he repeats just as emphatically as me. Under the blankets, I feel the ghost of his fingers trail against mine, testing the waters of what’s ok. I instantly fold and move my fingers to be eagerly enveloped by his own. He inches closer to me. 

“You care about me,” I echo, testing each word on my lips. 

He slowly grins, that hooded gaze eating me alive. His other hand reaches towards me and tucks a stray hair behind my ear, so gentle I question if this is the same man I met all those months ago. 

“Yes,” he assures in a breath of a whisper. “Very much so.” 

“You care about me,” I say again, sounding like a broken record.

Sylus laughs a low rumble of a laugh that shoots right through me. “I care about you so much that I worry about your safety the same way you say you worry about mine.”

I stare up at him, melting against his palm as it traces soothing lines up and down the curve of my neck. It’s like every new place he’s allowed to touch me is a place he must explore every inch of, memorizing every fold and caressing every curve. 

“I have responsibilities to attend to out in the city,” he continues on, explaining in a sort of gentle voice that has me hanging onto every syllable. “If I don’t attend to those responsibilities, all that follows is chaos, the kind that would eventually rope you up inside, and I can’t have that.” His fingers tighten on my hand, as if reassuring himself I’m really here in front of him. 

“Keeping you here means that I can attend to responsibilities knowing you’re safe and unharmed,” Sylus reveals. “I’m without the distraction of worrying about someone I care for.” 

“You care about me.”

Sylus laughs louder this time. “Is that all you can say, kitten?” 

I feel my grin growing in response to the sound of his laughter. I wonder how many other people have had the privilege to hear his laugh, his real laugh, hearty and deep and comforting. 

“I’m sorry, “ I shake my head. “I’m just processing.”

Sylus inches forward almost imperceptibly, eyebrows knit together. “Surely you knew I returned the feeling?”

I suddenly become sheepish. 

Sylus’ eyebrows raise in astonishment, his grin going lopsided. “Surely, you knew!”

My cheeks heat and I retreat with a squeak beneath the barrier of silk sheets, burying my face against his shoulder. I hear another well of laughter tumble over me as Sylus moves to remove the sheets from overtop of me. 

“I promise I didn’t know!” I finally admit, grinning stupidly against the warmth of his skin. As the natural cadence of my giggling dies down, I continue, slightly embarrassed, “I guessed…I hoped…but you’ve been so shamelessly flirtatious since the moment we met, I could never be sure…”

Sylus feigns shock. “Shamelessly flirtatious? Tsk, tsk, sweetie, you couldn’t be talking about me.”

I laugh again and Sylus lights up at the sound, his eyes glowing. 

He stares at me for a long moment, his hands reclaiming their purchases against my skin, stroking and caressing the exposed parts with such care. “Sorry if it should’ve been more obvious,” I add after a minute, gazing lazily at his face. “Wanderers and fluctuation zones I can detect all day long, but this has never been my strong suit…” I gesture between the two of us.

Sylus huffs a gentle laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe it wasn’t obvious to you, that’s ok. We’re here now.”

I bite my lip in thought and Sylus’ eyes zero in on the action, pupils dialiting before he pulls his gaze away. My stomach twists again. 

“...How long?” I eventually ask, nerves lighting up inside me. I can’t bare to keep eye contact with him as I wait for an answer. 

“How long?”

“How long have you…cared for me?” I feel so silly asking it out loud. As a blush creeps up my neck, I fight the urge to dive beneath the covers again. 

Sylus’ fingers still their soothing ministrations against my skin, and I suddenly worry. Did I ask something I shouldn’t have? Was it too far? Too soon? 

But when I anxiously meet Sylus’ eyes once again, he’s already looking at me like something I’ve never seen. His piercing red irises have a slight glow to them, his brows knit slightly in a look of sincerity that takes my breath away. He pauses a moment longer, making sure I’m keeping my eyes on him as he speaks, low and slow.

“A long time,” he utters, breathless. “A very, very long time.” 

I’m slightly confused while at the same time utterly captivated. I don’t know how long these few months could’ve felt. I suppose it has seemed like forever already, but I have a feeling that’s not what he means. Something about the moment has me reeling back my questions, however. This doesn’t seem like the right time or place to broach that topic.

“And you?” He returns my question, his face earnest as he awaits my response. “When did you start to…care?”

I find his phrasing funny and giggle before I answer. “When I was looking for that brooch, I suppose.”

He looks somewhat surprised at this. Maybe it wasn’t what he was expecting. “The one from the bet we made?”

I nod.

“What about that little hunt had you see me as something less monstrous?” 

I open my mouth to protest that I ever found him monstrous, but truth be told, those first few days in the N109 Zone were not my favorite to recount with him. 

Instead I answer honestly. “I tried so many times so many ways to find that stupid brooch, and you were so…patient with me. Even when I eventually had you handcuffed to this very bed and you could’ve escaped at any moment, you didn’t, and you let me think I had the upper hand for a few moments.”

Sylus listens intently, his eyes trained on my lips.

“I don’t know,” I continue. “In the end when you finally handed over the brooch, at first I was annoyed that you’d let me win without really winning, but as I kept replaying the memory of it, I thought it was so uncharacteristic of you to give in…and then I started thinking, ‘What if that isn’t uncharacteristic of him, and the demeanor he usually has is the farce?’”

I watch Sylus’ eyebrow raise in question. 

“The interactions we had after that…I started looking at you through that lens to test my theory, and sure enough, you aren’t the big bad meanie everyone paints you to be. At least not all the time.” I smile to myself. 

Looking back to Sylus, I see his expression has become one of subdued shock.

“What?” I ask through my smile. 

“I just didn’t think you were paying that close attention to me.” 

“I’m quite perceptive where it counts,” I defend myself. 

He smiles slowly. “Except when it comes to matters of returned affection.” 

I roll my eyes. “Okay, well I’m one for one on the perception front. I’m gonna take that as a win.” 

Sylus’ grin grows and he inches forward yet again. As I notice how truly close he’s gotten, my nerves begin to edge upward. My throat dry, I avert my eyes. “So, what now?” 

“You could touch me.”

“W-What?” I choke out, blindsided by his request. 

“If you want to, that is,” he amends, carefully looking me over. “You seem rather…timid when it comes to physical affection, do you not?”

“I’m not timid!” I say defiantly, immediately proving myself wrong when Sylus dips his hand from my face to my shoulder then under the edge of blanket to my waist. I instantly flinch away from the sudden change in proximity. “Ok, well that was an unfair play!”

Sylus is laughing in earnest now, and it’s enough to distract me from my fumble. 

“You were a little tense on the couch earlier, as well,” he notes, moving his hand back to the safe zone of my face. “Do you not enjoy physical contact?”

“I do!” I am quick to assure him. “I do enjoy it, it’s just…”

“Just…?”

“You make me nervous.”

“Nervous good or nervous bad?”

“Good! Nervous good.”

“So what does nervous good mean? Would you rather I not touch you just yet?” Sylus begins to remove his hands from me and I immediately feel their absence. 

I shake my head, swiftly reaching back for his hands and pulling them back to where they were previously stationed. Sylus tries to hide his satisfaction. 

“I don’t mind the physical contact, really!” I do my best to reassure that I am very much enthusiastic about the physical element going on here. “It just might take me a bit to get used to it without jumping is all. It’s something new.”

Sylus nods, his eyes darting away before returning with a question. “And me? How do you feel about touching me?”

My throat dries again. He truly is shameless. 

“Have I given the impression that I don’t want to?” I ask sincerely, concerned I’ve come across averse to the idea.

“You haven’t exactly returned the physical sentiment the whole time we’ve been lying here.” He says it like it’s obvious. 

“Oh, I haven’t?” I was genuinely unaware, much more focused on his hands on me than where mine were. Now that he’s mentioned it, I realize aside from the hand I’m holding beneath the sheets, my other hand remains curled against my own chest. “Do you…enjoy physical contact?” 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat of pause. “Especially yours.”

My stomach is doing flips. “Where should I–?”

“Anywhere,” he whispers. “Everywhere.” 

I hesitate a moment, overthinking every minute movement. I did touch him earlier when I bandaging his wounds, but I suppose that was with a different purpose in mind. And on the couch, I remember touching his face, didn’t I? Maybe it wasn’t enough for him. I know some people are more drawn to touch than others. I didn’t even really know I liked it until Sylus started doing it. If it feels as comforting to him as this does to me, then I decide to make an effort to return the gestures he’s already offered. 

Slowly, I unfurl my hand from against my own chest and reach out towards the exposed planes of Sylus’. I place my palm flat against his collarbone, fingers running a line across the protruding feature and up along the curve of his own neck. His skin is soft and warm and I eat up every inch of it as I trace a path along the sharp jut of his jawline and then back down, down, down, across his collarbone once again and then onto the solid muscles of his chest.

I run my nails along his pale skin, and Sylus shudders beneath my touch, moving even closer to me. 

“Is this ok?” I ask gently, keeping my eyes focused on what my hand is doing. 

“Yes,” comes the heady whisper of approval above me. It sounds almost gutteral and it has my mind spinning. Did this really affect him that much? “More. Touch me more.” 

My mind careens into an abyss at the sound of his voice. When I look up, he’s looking down with eyes half closed, irises glazed over and needy, and staring right at me. 

I continue to run the pressure of my palm and the scratch of my nails along his chest, venturing across to his other pectoral and then down his sternum towards the chiseled field of his abdominals. I stop just above the gauze wrapping, avoiding placing any pressure on his healing wound. As I travel back up towards his face, I test a graze along his exposed nipple and melt inside as a low moan of approval erupts from his throat. 

“Careful, kitten,” he admonishes in a dulcet tone. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.” 

“Can’t fini–” I start to question before he captures my roaming hand in his own. 

“Maybe that’s enough practice for now,” he decides, thumbing the back of my palm. 

I look up at Sylus from beneath hooded lashes, breathing harder than I realized. I watch as Sylus’ adam’s apple bobs against the skin of his throat, his chest starting to heave like a bellows. 

“Fuck…” he hisses, squeezing my hand as if trying to stop his own from moving any farther.

“What?” I question, searching that dazed expression for what he might be thinking about. Did I do something I shouldn’t have? “What’s wrong?”

Sylus leans closer to me, our mouths a breath apart. “I’m trying so hard to stop myself from kissing you right now.”

His brazen confession has my breath stuck in my throat. There’s a silence that seems like it stretches on forever between us. I force myself to swallow and say, “What if I don’t want you to stop yourself?” 

His right eye glows an intense shade of red as he reigns in the flare of his Evol energy. Those irises lock their sights on my parted lips. He licks his own in a way that has me becoming a puddle against him. I didn’t realize I want to kiss him so badly until he spoke it outloud. Now it’s all I can think of. What his lips taste like, what noises he makes, how well he uses that vipers tongue of his…

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he whispers against the skin of cheek, so close that he almost feels like part of me.

“Don’t,” I plead breathlessly. “Don’t stop yourself.” 

I let my eyes drift back to his enticing mouth, licking my own lips in response. 

“I have to–” is all he gets out before his lips are on mine. 

My head and my stomach implode in tandem, nerves and butterflies and explosions swimming all throughout my body at the feeling of him kissing me. I am in heaven, pure heaven. 

I always knew Sylus was a sensual kind of person, but having his lips pressed against mine was almost sinful with how perfect it felt. The kiss is gentle but desperate, the pressure of his mouth on mine conveying how he can’t seem to get close enough, to feel enough of me. 

His free hand moves from my face to my neck and up to my hair, his long digits fisting in my locks, tugging me futher into him. I suck against his bottom lip which draws out the most beautiful moan from his throat. 

His Evol energy suddenly erupts in a swarm of red and black mist that swims around us both, carressing my arms, my legs, my waist, every part of me his hands can’t get to. 

I feel his wrist tugging against the link beneath the sheets, trying without success to free itself and move elsewhere on my person. 

“Fuck, I want to touch you, all of you,” he grinds out through breathless kisses, tugging again against the Evol link. If I wasn’t so far gone against his body, I’d find it in me to laugh that the very thing that brought us this close was now his hindrance. And with the link growing stronger the more our connection grows, I didn’t see it coming loose anytime soon.  

“Sylus,” I moan against his mouth, his Evol energy shuddering around me in response. 

“Say it again, Mina,” he pleads, pressing me to his chest. “Say my name.”

“Sylus, Sylus, Sylus,” I repeat in between each capture of my lips in his. We continue for a moment longer, his tongue beginning to tease the line of my mouth before he suddenly pulls away, leaving me breathless and blown out, hazy in the remnants of his touch.

I open my eyes to see his chest rising and falling in erratic patterns, his hand still fisted in my hair. His own eyes are closed, his Evol energy slowly dissipating around us. He’s trying to regain himself. 

“Sylus?” I venture, my voice not sounding quite my own. “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” he breathes slowly, his voice like gravel. “Yes, I’m fine. I just need…a moment.”

“Ok,” I concede, lying back and watching him as he reigns in his explosion of energy. He’s so powerful, it’s a marvel to watch his Evol in action, and it makes me want to reach back for him even more. I lift my free hand to do just that before he intercepts my fingers in his own and holds it against his chest.

Sylus falls against the sheets and curls me against him, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry, I think we should stop for now…”

“Oh, ok,” I whisper, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. I make to turn myself over before he sees the blush covering my neck and face when he tightens his grip on me.

“Where are you going?” he sounds concerned.

“I thought…you said you wanted to stop.”

Sylus exhales a relieved breath. “No, kitten, please don’t misunderstand.” I meet his eyes and he massages my hand with his own in a comforting way. “I need to stop for my own sake…if we’d kept going…I don’t think I would’ve been able to control my Evol.” 

My eyes light with realization. “Oh…”

“I’ve never…” His eyes go somewhere far away for a moment as he becomes lost in a thought. “That’s never happened before. My Evol going haywire…did I hurt you?” Suddenly all his worry is trained on me, his eyes looking me up and down to ensure no lingering injury was left behind.

“What? No, of course not,” I reassure him. “It felt…good.”

“Good?” Sylus repeats. 

“Like there was more of you around me.” 

He exhales again. “Good.”

“Was it…okay for you?” If I had a dollar for everytime I’ve blushed uncontrollably tonight, I’d be a damn millionare. 

Sylus looks at me for a moment before leaning in and chuckling, his eyes closing in mirth. Was I that bad?

He opens his eyes and looks so deeply in mine that I balk under his gaze. “You have…no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” The tone of his voice sets my heart aflame. Sylus glances back to my now-swollen lips before he tears away. “I would do it again if I thought I could control myself.”

The way he looks at me so hungrily, like he could devour the whole of me in one bite makes me want to hide myself away. He is too much and not enough all at once.  

“We’ll have to work on that,” I manage to finally say. 

Sylus laughs and he runs the back of his hand down my face, coming to rest against my neck. “I look forward to it. Now, sleep, little bird. You’ve been up far past your bedtime.” 

I blink at him and suddenly feel more tired than I have in weeks. As Sylus curls me against his side and readjusts the sheets overtop of us, I fight to stay awake and take one last look at his perfect face, suddenly terrified this has all been some elaborate fever dream and I’m about to wake up in my bed down the hall with nothing but the lingering memory of tonight to hold on to. 

“Sleep, darling,” Sylus whispers again, his lips pressing to the crown of my head, his hand still linked to mine beneath the silk sheets massaging gentle patterns into my palm that have my drifting even farther off. “I’ll be here when you wake.” 

And that was all I needed to hear before my eyes finally closed and sleep washed over me for the first time since I arrived. This time, I sleep all the way through to morning. ~ A/N: This is the first thing I've written since i went on a tumblr hiatus back in 2020. Love and Deepspace has drawn me out of the trenches and I am once again a fandom girlie. For now at least! I lowkey wanted to make this into a mini-series, which i might still do if I get enough of an idea for it, but for now, I hope you enjoy this moment with Sylus! Requests are open for drabbles and fics for LnDS <3 ~zayneternal <3

[haechoxo]

[7:07 pm]

cw; suggestive lol,,

“it wasn’t supposed to be complicated,” you admit, your voice softening. “we were both stressed with school and work, and it just… happened. i thought maybe, eventually, he’d see me as more than just a friend. but now… i don’t know what to think.” you feel a lump forming in your throat, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on you as you recall the day your arrangement with haechan started.

your tiny apartment was filled with the scent of coffee and the sound of pages turning. you and haechan were huddled at the coffee table, textbooks, notes, and highlighters spread out before you. finals week was taking its toll, and the exhaustion was evident in both your expressions.

haechan stretched, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “ugh, i can’t take it anymore. my brain feels like mush!”

not glancing up from your notes, stifling a yawn of your own. “just a few more days, and we can sleep for a week.”

he smirked, leaning back on his arms where he sat on the dingy rug. “or, you know, we could find a more fun way to relieve some stress.”

you raised an eyebrow, too tired to fully engage with his antics. “like what? please don’t say more coffee, because i’m pretty sure it’s running through our veins at this point.”

he leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “nah, i was thinking something a bit more… intimate.”

your pen paused mid-sentence, finally looking at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “intimate, huh? like what, a hug?”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “we could fuck.”

you stared at him, dumbfounded, your fatigue momentarily forgotten as your mouth felt incredibly dry, “a-are you serious?”

“dead serious,” he replied, his tone playful as he shrugs, “we’re both stressed, and we’re best friends, what better way to work it out?”

you blinked, trying to process his suggestion, not that the offer wasn’t tempting, the amount of times you pictured kissing his perfect pouty lips, but still! “donghyuck, i don’t… what if it makes things weird?”

he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “it won’t, i promise. we’re adults, we can handle this. besides, if we can’t help each other out, who can we rely on?”

you chewed on your lower lip, his words doing little to ease the anxiety bubbling up inside you. “i don’t know, hyuck….” all you can think about is your feelings bubbling over, and he finds out in the worst way possible.

“come on, y/n,” he coaxed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hand. “trust me, it’s fine, it’ll be fun!”

you sighed, feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “okay, but if this goes badly, i’m blaming you entirely.”

he grinned, joining you on the couch, “deal. now, let’s get out of study mode for a bit. my brain needs a break from all this academic torture.”

the air between you charged with anticipation as he sat down beside you, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. you hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with what-ifs, but haechan’s gentle touch and soft smile as he leaned closer gave you the reassurance you needed.

“still okay?” he murmured, his breath warm on your skin.

“yeah,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “just... nervous.”

“don’t be shy,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face. “it’s just me, remember?”

you nodded, his lips brushing yours softly at first, testing the waters. your heart raced as you kissed him back, the familiarity of his presence merging with the freshness of the situation, it almost felt natural. he deepened the kiss, one hand finding it’s way to your waist, pulling you closer, while his other held your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

kissing him was everything you imagined it would be—gentle, yet intense, filled with unspoken emotions and years of hidden feelings. as his lips moved against yours, you felt a mixture of relief and uncertainty, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

just as the kiss began to deepen further, you pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, breathing heavily as he continued, kissing down your neck.

as if he’s done it a million times before.

“can i keep going?” he whispered against the column of your neck, his voice low.

previous - next

a/n ; erm… can u tell it was my first time writing a kiss scene🤓 im actually sooo grossed out this was an experience i never thought id breach the topic of… anyway! hope u enjoy!! advice n ur thoughts are appreciated! xoxo jelly

[orphicrose]

Are you still doing requests? Can I request Alastor x Wife reader who were married together alive an reunited in hell and while Alastor hates modern tech the reader grew on it and even started a life hack channel on voxtube of tricks from the 1920s and it becomes really popular and she gets sponsors and fan mail meanwhile Alastor needs Angel's help just to video chat her and one day she gets a 5 million subscriber mileage congratulations gift box (that all creators get bit hes still mad) from Vox himself

Old man and an Iphone

Requests are still open indeed.

I can definitely do my best! I’ve changed the dates around a little to better fit the technology advancements in the universe. This is set in the early 2000s

This is somewhat small, but i hope you like it.

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

Years passed like turning pages since your husband had departed from you, in the cruelest ways that anyone could imagine. A fate that wasn’t even inevitable. That singular fragile piece of metal, shot from an unknown hunter, took him away from you.

You knew who he was, you knew what he was. Knowing that you’d end up in the same temple of horror one day that he has. His sins being your sins. That brought you some peace. Knowing you’d be reunited one day. Even if it was in the worst place imaginable. Hell. That day came sooner than you’d like to admit. Leaving behind your clueless grandchildren and your own hellish spawn.

The ground below you hit rather hard, not even knowing you were falling down the rabbit hole till the bottom came right to your face. You let off a grunt in response. Your body feeling light, all of a sudden. As if the age and wrinkles had just vanished, and you were young again. Legs feeling like they could run miles, and skin, well. Your new hellish form wasn’t much of an improvement from leather skin.

Knowing for years you’d end up here, it wasn’t too difficult to take in. Accepting your sins and your fate as a part of your journey. It wasn’t so bad. There was society, and structure down here. Immortality being the only true torture.

The other torture, you had no idea where your dearest Alastor had ended up. It had been almost 70 years since you’d seen him, god knows what he looks like now. Your reunion was sudden, after all, he was a well known overlord. Yet, it was still something out of a textbook romance novel.

Over the next decade or two, you two spent every second together. Refusing to be apart again. You sharing stories about your children, grandchildren. Melting Alastor's heart like he never thought you could. There was so much catching up to do. After time, you became infatuated with the media, creating your own channel. it was called "Hellish crafts", which started with a bunch of silly tips and tricks when it comes to house work. Alastor didn't understand, but it came with a hefty income.

After becoming tenants at the misguided daughters of hells hotel, you soon began helping with advertisements. Which grew the channel even more. From random life hacks, to advertisements, to smaller channels asking you for your help to grow theirs.

"Must you film me, dear?" his hand covers his face as the camera fizzes out of focus.

"Yes! Its for Charlie. Lighten up old man" You teased him, filming the hotel lobby. He smiled at your expression, resting a hand on the small of your back as you did your craft.

"Y/n! Y/n! Another letter for you!" Niffty ran over

Alastors hand dropped, snatching the letter from the little goblin.. Eyebrows furrowed. "This is the third letter in the passed three days, sweetheart"

"What can i say, my channel is a hit" One eye was closed as the other was pressed to the run down camera that Alastor insisted you used. Still walking slowly around the hotel, trying to get a good shot. Alastor stood in his place, reading the letter. "Another delusional fan" He mumbled.

"Don't worry! i wont let the fame go to my head" You swung around with the camera, getting him in frame. The static of his aura interfered with the lens and gave your brow a small electric shock. Jolting you backwards.

"I've warned you about that" He chuckled, hand returning to your waist and pulling you closer. His other hand with the letter, raising, and a fit of flames emitted. Turning the letter into ash on the floor, which nifty didn't wait to clean up.

Life was like this for a while, constant letters. Some weird, some genuine. But you never got to read most of them, as Alastor made it his duty to send them to another realm before you could. was he jealous? maybe, he'd never care to admit it though. That was until a rather glamorous piece of paper fell through the letter box on this particular day. Stamped with Vox's logo. You got to this letter first.

"What the fuck?" Your almost angry tone alerted Alastor, whose body materialized next to yours in seconds. "What's the matter, my dear?" his eyes briefly scanned over the letter before snatching it from you.

"What is a 5 million subscriber?"

"Its the amount of people who support my channel, i honestly didn't even know it was that big." you stared up at him, waiting for some sort of outburst on his face.

"That's... " he thought for a second "Wonderful dear! Absolutely wonderful!" his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, spinning you around. When you first started the channel, with his knowledge, it was more of a way to pass the time. So, for it to be as big as it is now was quite the accomplishment. What kind of husband would he be not to support his perfect wife, he thought. Whether she was practically paying vox or not. His quarrels weren't hers.

"I believe you have some type of reward, y/n" He spoke again, putting you down and giving the letter back. His sharp nail pointed at a fine print at the bottom. 'Visit the Vee headquarters to redeem your reward'.

You both looked at each other, brows raised and a concerned look in your eyes. "I'm sure it's not important. I don't need a reward"

He looked as if he was in deep thought. Contemplating everything for a second. "You should go" "But vox is your-"

"Hush, little woman" His finger covered your lips "This is important to you darling. I trust you"

The smile on your face made his bigger, making you deserving of the little peck he placed on your lips before adjusting his posture. "On the condition that my shadow follows your every move"

"Done"

A few hours had passed since your departure, Charlie offering razzle and dazzle to escort you to the large mansion on the other side of the pentagram. It was quite the journey, considering the traffic. And it wasn't long before Alastor began to miss you, wondering if you were okay.

"Ahem" static gave Angel a brief episode of tinnitus before he swung his body on the lobby sofa, met with the lanky deer.

"Waddya want, pimp?" his attention didn't last long, his phone having far more interesting contents than the demon lurking behind him.

"I need a favor" his smile made the question seem a lot more sadistic than intended. His body swiftly moved around the sofa, standing in front of the spider now.

"If you want my soul, I got bad news for ya."

"Your soul?" He was almost confused for a second "No, i need help with this" he lifted his hand, angels phone disappearing and reappearing in the deer's grip.

"Wh- hey! Give that back" Angel leapt to his feet, reaching up and snatching it back. "Why do you want help with a phone? Aren't you like, from the dark ages?"

It took Alastor a moment to be able to admit to it. "I'd like... to call my wife"

"Awww, is someone clingy" angels teasing didn't last long before radio dials appeared in the demons eyes, radio interference filling the air as quickly as it had disappeared earlier. "Okay, okay" Angels hands flew up in surrender, Alastor returning to normal instantly. "Splended!"

It took a moment for Angel to flick through the thousands of contacts he had, before he finally reached you. Pressing the call button and handing the phone to Al. Who held it like an old grampa looking at a meme. "What do i do now?" he squinted his eyes at the device in his hand. "Just hold it" Angels voice became frustrated as he readjusted the phone in Als hand.

You had picked up the call a minute ago now, on your way back to the hotel. Being greeted to the two boys bickering. "Helloooo?" you sung out, attempting to get their attention.

"Oh. Hello my dear!" Alastor noticed to and bared his teeth in an awkward smile. "I just wanted to see how my love was doing, is all"

"How sweet. I will be back soon." You had many questions to ask when you were back with the comfort of your person.

"Do hurry"

[forusomimiya]

𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣’𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕕

⚜️𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘮𝘴𝘣𝘺4!𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 𝘹 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

⚜️𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

⚜️𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,4𝘬

⚜️𝘤𝘸: 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢. (¡𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘖𝘙𝘚 𝘋𝘖𝘕𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘐𝘛!)

You don't remember how you ended up here, or maybe you do, but you don't remember what led you to make this decision, what went through your wonderful head making you think this would be a good idea.

Because it wasn't just good, it was the best.

A couple of drinks after your first face-to-face game with the team, glances and approaches, brought you, the rookie manager of the black jackals and the four worst men you could have ever met, to spend "a little good time" at your hotel.

It wasn't the first time they got together and talked about how you flirted with each of them or how you enticed them to have a quick, sneaky encounter in the locker room. What they didn't know is that while they were getting hard talking about you, you were in your room cumming on your fingers more than three times in a row, imagining an orgy with them.

And there you were, rejoicing and getting what you had wanted to happen for months.

"Little whore in heat... if you're going to keep looking at me like that while 'm fucking that mouth, I swear I'm going to make a mess on yar pretty face. And I don't think Sakusa likes it when someone messes up what's his, do you Omi-kun?" Atsumu's words are choppy with each thrust and with each touch of his tip at the end of your throat. His muscles begin to weaken but for his life, he will not stop until he has accomplished his goal.

"Just shut your fucking mouth and keep going, Miya. It keeps getting tighter every time you go in deeper."

"Ignore him Atsumu. Down here I can see how he enjoys every praise you give her" you only have a second to switch from focusing on Atsumu's cock to Hinata's and Sakusa's, both alternating to hit your fragile spot and making you moan long and hard as you gargle with Atsumu's cock.

"Holy fuck, so pretty like that… drooling all over my cock…” you moan in pain as you open your mouth wider. Your jaw will remind you tomorrow. "Awww… it hurts… Easy doll, I'll cum in no time and your mouth can rest. But first let me torture ya some more." His hips slam faster into your mouth, causing you to gag and your throat to itch, before you start to tear up.

"Hah, she's already in tears. Poor baby… maybe three cocks aren't enough for her. Maybe ya should slow down your movements, Atsumu…. What do you think? I'd like to have her mouth intact for a while from now" deaf ears to the words of Bokuto, who stands to the side squeezing the base of his cock and stroking the tip, mesmerised by the movement of your tits bouncing back and forth. Atsumu's hands on the back of your neck force you deeper into him, and even though it's your first time sucking him, you know what it means, so you look up and confirm your intuition when you see his eyebrows draw together and his mouth form an "O".

"Ahh keep crying… keep crying for my cock… nngh f-fuck! Keep it up, keep it up!" Quickly the thick, warm liquid runs down your throat and you can only continue to watch him, biting his lip as he is consumed by pleasure and continues to spill now onto your tongue. You swallow, frowning at the bitter taste. It's not pleasant, but fuck, you're a slut at sex, and you like to show it off.

"Damn… you swallowed it?" You nod and lick the remainder left on your lips, sobbing and whimpering because even though your mouth is now empty, your pussy is still filled by two cocks. "Good girl" you smile as he strokes your head, enticing you to close your eyes and appreciate his sweet touch. Atsumu could change his ways with you whenever he wanted.

You were fascinated by the way he was sometimes gentle with you in training, giving you his attention and care. Giving you advice on how to improve or cheering you up when you were down. Other times, he would catch you off guard from behind when no one was watching and he would fawn in your ear about what a good girl you were when you offered him water or towels to wipe off your sweat. He always said he'd thank you later, but it never happened. Until now.

Men who have you dripping, panting and cursing bring you back to enjoy them.

"M-more please… want more, so good…" Sakusa squeezes your hips and increases the strokes, obeying your pleas, grunting with each time you clench around him.

"Fuck… gonna fill this fucking pussy to the last drop. You're taking me so well that i think i wanna do it again…" but you can't take any more. The support of your arms on the bed trembles with each thrust, and the speed and joy of feeling the friction of both cocks in you doesn't help. "Just a little more kitten, just a little more…". You moan louder and louder and beg to go faster, though Hinata, slowly torturing you and dismissing that option, continues to enjoy every inch of your pussy opening up for him, willing to spend the time needed.

"P-please… faster… more - faster."

"Sshh be good for us baby, just have fun and keep squeezing for us, yeah? We promise to fill you up real soon kitty, just a - little bit - more."

You nod unconsciously. You can't stop thinking about how badly you want to cum all over them. And fuck, Bokuto hasn't even touched you yet, and you crave it, you need him to humiliate you and reward you for how well you're behaving. There's still time to enjoy him.

"I can't take it anymore… need her now." Bokuto steps in front of you and from his position you can see what he wants to do, so you stick out your tongue and wait.

"Hah, did you see that? She's as desperate as we thought. Didn't you get enough of mine that now you want Bokkun's?" you look sideways at the blond, who chuckles and grabs you by the chin, moving you in his direction and ordering you. "Now, open up."

The next thing that happens, comes very quickly.

You don't lose eye contact with Atsumu as he drops a trickle of saliva into your mouth. Bokuto, too aroused by the scene with the blond, and by the two partners warning that they are close to cumming, points in the direction of your tits and without control over himself, regretting it, is the next to do it. The warmth of the fluid and how dirty it makes you feel, makes you come and brings you closer to orgasm, with no interest in alerting the men who, by the pressure on their cocks and your uncontrolled leakage, know what is going on.

"Ahh fuck, she's cumming, she's cumming! hah- so tight…" Hinata is next to follow you, letting his cum leak out of your pussy and drip onto it, leading Sakusa to hopelessly let himself go.

"Yeahh, i love it… so wet… you're all mine, you hear me? Fucking mine" Emptying himself completely as he admires how underneath his cock white liquid is still oozing out, possibly a mixture of all three.

You take a few seconds to breathe, still on top of Hinata, who smiles at you as she lies slumped on the bed. You smile back with what little energy you have left, and thinking about it, you miss feeling full again, and underappreciated, in some ways. You think about what you're going to do, but then you remember that you've come here to play, and that you have a side to you that they haven't known yet, and you have to put it into practice.

When Sakusa and Hinata have risen from the bed, you crawl to the end of it and kneel down, staring at them one by one and waiting for them to know what you want. Bokuto seems to be the only one who notices your intentions, which leads him to smile at you for it and approach you with the same.

"Coming for more?" You nod cradling yourself against his hand as he caresses your cheek. Bokuto and the rest can't stop devouring you with their eyes. It was no wonder; a mess covered in tears and semen, with teeth marks at your neck and finger marks on your buttocks. More than one couldn't help but take a breather to get back into bed again.

"We didn't think we had such a docile manager…" Atsumu's voice, sitting behind you, prompts you to lean back against his chest, letting out small gasps, satisfied with the result. You are ready for round two.

"We'll care you for a while longer, if that's what you want."

•

•

•

•

•

@planetmarz

A.N.: Okay, is this an open ending TO A SEQUEL? I don't want to deceive myself but, I would love to do a sequel. I'm not very satisfied with the result, cause I think I'm not very good narrating a situation, and I'm better at making short scenes, so… I'll have to see how much appreciation this short fic has and consider making a last and second part 🫡

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Naughty Nanny Chapter 1

Summary:  Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought.

**In this universe Steve never left, Tony never died.** **curvy reader** Warnings: talk of sexual harassment, unwanted/non-consensual touching/sexual assault, eventual smut

Next chapter

“Please go to sleep,” Bucky begged quietly as the baby wailed in her crib.  He rubbed his face roughly, his eyes burning from lack of sleep.  He felt a wave of emotion through him and started crying, which surprised him.  He had gone through years of torture, being put on ice, memories wiped, the worst things imaginable done to him and forced on him to do to others, sleep deprivation worse than this and yet here he was crying over a crying baby.

He’d never had a lot of experience with babies.  He had sisters back then, but his mother had always been the one to take care of them as infants.  None of the other Avengers brought their kids around to headquarters.  This baby was unknown to him until four weeks ago.  

“Hey Bucky, uh…you’re needed in the lobby,” Sam’s voice rang through Friday’s intercom.

“Okay,” Bucky answered back up to the ceiling, then headed down to the front of the building.  When he approached the front desk a small group was forming around something on the floor.  “What’s going on?” he asked as he walked up to Sam.

Sam gave him a worried look then pointed to the floor.  It was a baby in a carrier, fast asleep, covered in a blanket, a diaper bag and a box of things next to it.  Steve was holding a note in one hand and reading it over and over again, the other hand holding a small stack of papers.

“Oh cute, whose baby?” Bucky said, smiling softly.  Everyone in the room looked at him uneasily.  

“It’s um…it’s yours,” Steve said hesitantly, handing him the note.

“What?  That’s–” Bucky scoffed then read the note.  It was scribbled hurriedly and he read it slowly.

‘James Barnes,

You won’t remember me but we had a one night stand a few months ago.  I didn’t realize I was pregnant till it was too late to have an abortion.  I’m not cut out for motherhood, and won’t be able to give her the life she deserves.  You’re an Avenger, so I’m guessing you’ve got money or options to make sure she’ll get a fair shot.  I haven’t named her, and I’ve signed away my rights.  She was born March 10.  I’m sorry to drop this on you.

Good luck.’

Bucky stared at the note.  He really couldn’t remember most of the one night stands he’d had.  They had usually been drunken encounters after too much Asguardian mead at one of Tony’s many parties.  “I…I don’t...”

“We should take a DNA sample, make sure it’s actually his,” Tony piped up.

“Oh please, Tony, just look at her.  She looks just like him,” Pepper smacked his arm.  “Let’s get her checked out by a doctor and then we’ll go from there.”

Steve stepped up to Bucky.  “Buck?”  He clapped his shoulder, bringing him back to the present.  “What do you want to do?”

Bucky eyed the papers in Steve’s hand, seeing the “Termination of Parental Rights” in bold at the top of the packet.  His ears were ringing, his eyes wide as he fought off a panic attack.  He looked at the baby again.  She did look like him, a tuft of dark brown hair atop her head and his lips and dimpled chin.  He stepped toward her and knelt down.  He reached forward a finger and softly stroked her cheek.  It made her stir a little and her eyes opened a little, flashing the same blue color of his eyes.  She even shared his birthday.  He smiled.  “My baby,” he mumbled.

Bucky decided to name her Winnie, after his mother.  The entire Avengers team had jumped into action that day, Tony and Pepper calling multiple people and getting baby items delivered to the compound, Bruce coming to take a DNA sample and do a preliminary check up on her until a pediatrician could come do a thorough examination, Steve and Sam standing with him as he held her and stared at her, giving him advice and trying to talk through what to do next.

As time went by he learned a lot.  Tony brought in a few people to teach him parenting skills and how to feed her, change her, bathe her, what different cries could mean, and so much more that it made his head swim.  He’d gotten the hang of it for the most part, getting into a routine with her, but on a night like tonight where the team was gone on a mission, with no one to help him, and it didn’t seem to matter what he did she just would not stop crying, he felt overwhelmed.  Bucky didn’t know how parents did this, let alone with multiple children.  He picked her up from the crib and cradled her against his chest, patting her back firmly but gently as his body bounced to try to soothe her again.  She continued crying but it died down a little at having him close.

“Please, Winnie, I can’t…I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered and shushed her.  He quickly wiped his tears, but they kept coming as her head thrashed against his sternum, like she wanted to burrow into him.  He carried her to the front room of his apartment suite in the compound then to the kitchen, grabbing another bottle and warming it in the microwave.  The movement seemed to help calm her a little until she was sniffling, whimpering and only occasionally letting out a little wail.  He made sure the formula wasn’t too hot then sat on the large sectional couch and leaned back against the pillow.  Before she could start crying from the loss of movement he stuck the bottle in her mouth and she immediately started eating, her wet eyes blinking up at him as she drew in a shaky breath.

“There you go,” Bucky breathed.  “See, all that fussing for nothing.  You stinker,” he smiled as he sniffed and wiped his tears again.  He snuggled her against him as he tried to even out his breathing.  She was so tiny against his large frame that it made him smile wider.  He hoped this would be enough to get her to sleep for longer than 45 minutes this time.  He stared up at the ceiling then got an idea.

“Friday?”

“Yes Sergeant Barnes?”

“I need interviews with potential nannies,” Bucky said, looking back down at Winnie.  “Specifically for live-in, night nannies.”

“I’ll compile a list and reach out for preliminary interviews.  Any specific qualifications that you would like to have listed?”

“No, just someone who knows what they’re doing,” Bucky sighed, his eyes getting heavier.

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you,” he yawned as Winnie finished the bottle.  He burped her, thanking whatever higher being there was in the universe for her milk-drunk expression as she drifted back to sleep, joining her shortly after.

**Once again, thank the AI/Photoshop gods for this perfect picture of Bucky found on Pinterest.**

@angelbabyyy99 @capswife @julvrs @bellabarnes1378 @mostlymarvelgirl @mega-kittyglitter-1 @buckitostan @drdbnkl2008 @wintrsoldrluvr @danzer8705

[quasi-normalcy]

🔥 Star Trek

About the entire franchise?

Alright: I think that it always needs to walk a tightrope between depicting a better future and laundering propagandistic military/colonial narratives. I think that, of the series, TNG and DS9 walked this line best, the former by ensuring that it always (almost always) stayed on the right side of the line, the latter by calling attention to the line and problematizing it whenever it crossed it. Picard season 1 was actually very, very good at recognizing this line and illustrating what happens when your society crosses from the one side to the other side. One of the many reasons why I dislike Picard season 3 is that it seemed blissfully unaware of the line's existence. But for my money, the series with the absolute worst track record of recognising that this line exists and staying on the right side of it (and this is where the scaldingly hot take comes in)...is Voyager.

Seriously, though. We have a ship in the middle of nowhere. It's a Starfleet vessel nominally, but everyone in Starfleet thinks that it's dead, and a third of the crew are rebels who don't want to be there in the first place. And yet, for some reason...it continues to operate under strict military discipline at all times. The ship is basically a military dictatorship under Janeway, absolute, unquestionable, and (as far as anyone knows) for the rest of all of their lives. When one of the Maquis guys in the first season questions why this should be so, Chakotay slugs him. Everyone wears uniforms at all times; we barely see civilian outfits, even on the Maquis, after the first episode. There's another episode where Tom commits insubordination and they keep him in solitary confinement (a form of torture, btw) for a month. There's an episode in the seventh season where Seven of Nine imagines becoming fully human and the way that she embraces her newfound individuality...is by wearing a uniform. So...when you're little better than an automaton, you get to wear whatever you want, but when you're a fully realised person, you join the navy? Oooookay. Everyone is locked permanently into their jobs. Like we all laugh at poor Harry Kim and his "forever an ensign" problem, but just consider what it's like for the poor guy. He doesn't know if he's ever getting home. Every day, he gets up and he goes to the bridge and he presses buttons and takes shit from everyone else...and that's it. That's his life. As far as he's aware, when he's ninety years old, he'll still be up there with one pip on his collar, taking orders and pushing buttons with veined and palsied hands. That's his life; he is his job; they're all their positions in the military hierarchy and that's all that they will ever be...and they're happy about it. There are no labour disruptions, no: "Hey, maybe Chakotay could try pushing buttons for a few days and I could try dispensing New Age wisdom." When Neelix asks to cross-train with Security, he's politely rebuffed. But they're happy about it. Nobody seems to have a serious problem with this. The text of the series is about the value of human individuality versus the "mindless drones" of the Borg Collective, but the subtext is about the value and satisfaction that comes with absolute submission to a power structure. I mean, I like the series nonetheless, it has lots of good episodes, but...honestly?

[svgvru]

𝐒 & 𝐌 : sex in the air, i don't care, i love the smell of it!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐎, 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔. it was no surprise either, well to those who know you. as the former ruler of teyvat, the king who presided over his sovereigns, it was logical that he would take a knee for you. you were his king, the dragon king. and he learned all sorts of things from you and about you when the two of you had first met during the . . . less kind days of fontaine.

things like: the former hydro sovereign, the prophecy, why he was born in a human form, anything relating to dragons, that you were kind, that you were honest, and that you were cruel. at least in his opinion.

now the kind did outweigh the cruel in most instances, however, the bedroom was a bit of a different story. see, neuvillette is such a loyal servant to you. he had been and always will be. and he's also—pliant. the poor hydro dragon could use some advice from a superior, someone older than him. after all, he is—was an over 500 year old virgin. a person with experience is someone he could benefit positively off of! and you were kind. keyword: "were."

your kisses started off sweet, they were gentle and calming. your hand were careful and soft as they roamed and prepped his body. your words were praises that could raise his ego tenfold. now?

"come now, dear . . . " there resting on your face with cruel smile, masquerading as being sweet. his feet carefully and reluctantly pad towards you. your form was sat on the edge of the bed, legs in a manspread. his eyes catch the glimmer of the blue gem on his cane next to you. he stops in between your legs, chewing on the corner of his lip. "don't hurt yourself," you whisper kissing his lips as your hands torturously slowly take off his clothing.

when you haad given him that glance just hours ago, he knew his "verdict" had been decided. oh how the tables had turned, then again, you were always his king, had they changed specifically with you? "across my legs, dearest."

your voice is soft, yet there's a command in it. therefore—he obeys. just as if he was in court, yet the roles were switched. the culprits had to face their sentence, so did he. his naked body is splayed across your legs. his back in an unintentional arch as his bare ass is on display for you. your hands teasingly trace his spine, except they didn't feel like your hands. it was another thing neuvillette hated during movements like these . . . you wore gloves. he couldn't feel your skin, it made him want to cry!

"what's the safeword?" you ask him, cane now in hand—the cold metal of his sends a shiver down his spine when you trace his skin with it. "h-hydro . . . " neuvillette mumbles. a small smile graces your face.

"good. you get ten strokes . . . that's all. now you will count, every. single. stroke. if you mess up, we'll have to restart, and i'll continue until you get it right. and finally, you are not allowed to cum without permission, is that clear?" your voice is unusually soft, yet if he looked back, he would see the lustful and cruel look in your eyes. "yes. crystal clear." he can practically feel your smile in response to his words. your lips press against his temple gently before his own cane suddenly comes in contact with his skin.

"a-AHN! mhn . . . o-one." luckily, you were using the wooden part of his cane. however, that didn't mean it didn't hurt. the soft paleness of his skin is reddened. a chuckle leaves your lips, "imagine how much more fun this would be if you had a vagina . . . "

his eyes widen at that, never had he thought you'd be into that kind of thing. nor did he think those words would leave your lips. the worst part however, was how it turned him on. his neglected cock twitches against your thigh at the words. "oh? is that appealing to you? having a woman's genitals? hm, i wonder . . . how wet would you be after one stroke? soaked? or perhaps you'd try and hold it in, hm?" your series of questions only makes his face burn more.

a smile graces your face as you can hear the pitter patter of the rain drops on the windowsill. your questions were terrible, but he wanted to know. he wondered what it would be like if you were torturing him with a vagina instead of a penis.

"it's raining already, dear. i've barely even started . . . " you tease and chuckle at him. "a-apologies, my king," he stutters, gripping onto the cloth of your pants. "forgiven."

there's a brief moment of silence after that. he wonders if you're enjoying the sight of him, or if you're teasing him. he turns to look at you, the words on his lips interrupted. "your majes—aAaahHhN!" he moans as the wood strikes his skin again. the skin of his ass a deep red. "t-two! mhn—!" he feels the material of the gloves, grope and massage his fresh stroke, a wince leaving his lips at the touch. "good," you coo. "such a good servant i have . . . "

the strokes continue, the wood striking dangerously close to his full and red balls, the ones you refuse to let him empty. "ah—my kinnnghH!" he'll sob with his lips trembling.

he pleads as if he could get out of this situation. well—he could; however, he doesn't. he refuses to use that fated safeword. no—he loves it. as much as he hates the pain, he loves it. especially because he's being punished by you, his king. he'd gladly let you ruin him in exchange for no one else being able to experience you like this. to which you fullfil his wishes. "ssss—seven!" he yelps.

the cane stops in the air. "seven?" you ask him. that was wrong, you weren't on seven. "y-yes?" neuvillette starts to question his answer, and when in his peripheral vision he sees your eyes give him a sympathetic look—he knew he was wrong.

your hand grips the base of his horns, a whimper leaving his lips as you pull his head up "ngh—ugh!" his lips tremble at the force, especially on his horns. because despite no dragon, including you, saying it . . . your horns were sensitive—specifically the base of them. "six, darling. it was six." you really do feel bad for the citizens of fontaine, plagued with this rough rain, but this was a sight you needed to see.

the hydro sovereign, back arched and tip leaking onto the floor, his eyes nearly rolled back, and fat tears streaming down his now red cheeks. his head hands, a small puddle of drool growing on the floor from him.

such a powerful being, reduced to nothing for his king, he truly is loyal. and yet, he isn't even done!

sobs rack his frame as he desperately keeps track, having to start over once more in the midst of this. his lower eyelids were red and puffy, stained with tears as he finally finished correctly. "TEN! ten, it's ten!" he whines. oh, he looks so beautiful!

you chuckle and finally put the cane down. looking beneath you, a puddle of pre-cum is in your sight; however, he hasn't cum yet! his listening skills were quite admirable, if you had only had his skills millenia ago. "i suppose you finally deserve my touch," you mumble, and the man in your lap visibly perks up at that comment. "p-pleashh! i desir—i want . . . i—!" his effort in forming words were quite adorable to you. "shh, i understand," you interrupt his words.

taking off your gloves, you touch his soft skin for the first time that night. neuvillette whimpers in happiness at the warmth of your hands—the skin to skin contact.

your hands knead his soft and sore skin, cooing to him as you do, whispering words of pride for him. your fingertips, calloused from war and past experiences, trail along his spine, simply touching him. "calm enough?" you chuckle, "i'm sure you dying to cum . . . get on the bed." neuvillette hurries onto the bed, wincing at the lingering pain. but he remains on his stomach, as up for you.

moving the cane from the bed, you crawl onto it, hovering over him. a smile is on your face as you hear the rain die down. it's not as rough as a few minutes ago, just a drizzle . . . although, that would likely change in less than a minute.

neuvillette feels two of your thick fingers touch the rim of his hole. your index slips in easily, your middle stretches him, testing how loose he is. "how long did you play with your ass, hm? that needy for your king? all you had to do was call my name . . . " your voice turns to a low whisper, his cheeks reddened before he watches you grab the bottle of lube.

he hears your pants unzip and fall, your lands lubing your cock for him. carlessly tossing the bottle wherever you lean over him.

"are you ready?" neuvillette feverishly nods, even poking his as out more for you. a smile leaves your lips as you press your tip to the rim, well your first tip. the second one is light pressing agsins his balls, leaking pre cum.

slowly but surely, you pushed your first cock inside of him, the other rubbing against his own cock. "ooooOOh! a-AH!" the dragon below you whines, you're quite surprised he hasn't completely lost control of his human form. it wouldn't be a surprise if he did.

and just as your thoughts ends, his hands claw at the sheets, turning light blue. all the way up to his elbows was there the color of the water before it ended, the color gradient and fading into his normal human skin color. the marks of hydro on his arms appear, his light blue tail flows as he looses control of his form. his back arched beautifully for you. he hears you laugh quietly at him, whining quietly at your hand stroking him. "are you ready?" your soft voice rings in his ears. "yes . . . "

he whimpers when he feels you lean down and kiss the nape of his neck. he feels your hips retract, his walls gripping your cock. "are you trying to break my dick? calm yourself," you chuckle and slam your cock back into him.

"a-apologies!" he chokes out, eyes crossed. "oh—you're so b-big!" your cock feels like a heaven he shouldn't be permitted to. it felt so good. every inch of his body has memorized you, just as you have him. your cock rubbing against his prostate felt like a gift from the gods. then again, you—you are his god. it didn't help that your second cock was frotting tips with his. your precum mix and fall with your thrusts, his legs trembling as it becomes harder to resist cumming. "you've taken it before, your alright," you coo.

full, was a word to describe this moment. although, the word 'pain' could be included. your hips roughly slap against his already sore skin, his ass jiggling with each thrust, his pale lips trembling. pain, is the word he could use to describe his need. the need to cum that he hasn't been granted. the both of you are sure his balls are red, his tip matching angrily as he desprately needs to cum. neuvillette sniffs, small tears spilling from his eyes. this always happens. the most he's every shown is emotion, is during sex.

but he couldn't curse it, he couldn't beg for it to stop . . . if it was his king granting him a way to express himself he'd gladly welcome it. "cum . . . may i? ple-please?!"

a sob is accompanied with his words. although, it is warranted. how could he not cry when you've purposefully angled yourself so your cock rams into his prostate. the downpour of rain continues, and neuvillette was going to loose his mind. "please! your maj—ngh! a-AH! my king! i—" he was prepared to plead and cry, anything to receive your cum and his own release.

"go on." his glossy eyes widen, he hadn't actually expected you to say yes. you had been cruel to him lately. what had changed? "put on your listening ears, dearest . . . "

"cum."

a loud whine and a cry of your title leaves his lips. his body shivers, his claws tearing at the light blue sheets, and his hole milking your cock. you grunt, roughly slamming your hips into him once more, eyes rolling back as you cum. when you frott tips neuvillette cums as well, a load of yours dumped inside of him and a load onto him.

"hah . . . thank you," neuvillette mumbles, blinking his low-lidded eyes. "thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

it was adorable . . . how he'd always thank you for allowing him to cum. "always so polite, hm?" you grin and kiss his temple, gently wiping his tears. "you're welcome, my love." a smalle smile grows on his face at the nickname.

the soft sounds of rain die down, a few sniffs still left in the hydro dragon below you. he's such a good servant to you, perhaps even the most loyal! well, morax might have him beat . . . but as a warm hole for you who's always ready, neuvillette takes the cake. "let's clean you up, hm? i won't make you cry anymore—tonight." neuvillette whines at your last words, but he's proud of himself for taking his punishment.

wait—what was he being punished for?

[cordeliawhohung]

Soft Spot - Part 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part thirteen of "soft spot"

taglist | playlist | dissection links

you're so used to the teeth that they don't even hurt anymore

warnings: childhood trauma, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past torture, threats and unkind language

wc: 4.4k

Some part of you always knew you’d see him again, but you never imagined it would be like that.

In your pitiful daydreams, you always envisioned things would be darker; scarier, even. You’d find him again in some dim corner where he would trap you and would lurk and stare until he was ready to pounce. In the version of yourself in your daydreams, you were stronger. You knew exactly what to say, how to convey how you felt, but most importantly, he would pay. He would pay for every single transgression he wrought upon you and your mother. You would never have to see him again. But it was wrong. You weren’t supposed to run into him there. Not on a perfect day like that. 

It would have been a perfect day. 

The warmth of the sun on your skin, the laughter of everyone around you; you had every right to enjoy that day. To bask in the beauty of the trees with their singing, fluttering leaves, and to soak up the fragrance of tulips and freshly trimmed grass. But behind it all, there was always something lurking. A second layer you hadn’t yet exposed. The rotting carcass of a bird nestled by the trunk of a tree. Musty hot car exhaust from the street on the other side of the park. A man too angry for his own good and his daughter petrified on the bench. 

The smell of cigarettes. 

Your eyes had no choice but to stay glued onto the man in front of you. So many years had gone by, and though his age caught up to him, that unbridled rage that festered within him was painfully distinct. It was his eyes, it always was. You could see every thought and intention that came to fruition in his thoughts, and though he smiled, you knew none of it was good. It alerted some primal instinct in the back of your mind that screamed at you to run, to fight. All you could do was place your hands on your stomach and hope Simon would return soon. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” The words flew out of your mouth of their own volition, like some sort of ghost had taken control of your body and given you the strength to say them. 

Your father snorted as he took a step closer to you, and you had no choice but to watch him sink down into the seat next to you. His movements were slow, frail even. There was something wrong with him, as if he rotted from the inside out. Perhaps all his wrongdoings had finally caught up with him, and you took an odd sort of comfort in the thought he looked too sick to properly hurt anyone other than himself. 

“Haven’t seen each other in years and you have nothing to say? Bullshit.” He coughed. It sounded wet, and you could make out the sticky sounds of it clinging in the back of his throat. “Though, the last time we talked you didn’t have anything to say to me but a threat.” 

He was right. A threat. A promise. Maybe both. Whatever it was, you had meant every word of it at the time when you said you would kill him if he ever hit you again. That felt like forever ago. Some other lifetime. Really, you were surprised he even remembered it at all. No, of course he remembered it. He would always remember the worst parts of you; the parts of you he could twist and use against you. 

“I still mean it,” you said. 

It was an empty promise. You knew that, and he knew that too. 

“Sure thing, darling,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ll do a whole lot of damage in… this state.” 

No surprise bloomed in your chest at his comment, but disgust did. Having to see that vile man again was already bad enough, but seeing him while you were pregnant was a different form of degradation. It felt violating to be perceived in such a disgusting way, especially by the man who fathered you. Him seeing your mother pregnant hadn’t pulled on his heartstrings to save her from the terrible fate of his fury, and it certainly wouldn’t save you. 

“So, who’s the dad? Some rich American? Surprised to see you back here after you ran off to play school girl in the States,” he sneered. 

“You don’t have the right to ask that,” you snapped.

“Don’t I?” he challenged. “You’re my daughter.” 

“I’m nothing of yours.” 

A heavy sigh left your father’s lips as he adjusted his position on the bench. You hadn’t moved an inch since he approached you, and even your son seemed to know well enough to stay dormant inside of you. 

“You always have to be difficult,” your father huffed. 

“What the fuck do you want?” you bit. Intense eyes landed on the pathetic figure next to you, and you found your hands balling into fists in your lap. “We haven't spoken for years, and you think it’s okay to just stroll up to me in the damn park for a conversation?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said with a glare. “Remember, you were the one who cut contact with me, not the other way around, darling.” 

“Because you are a piece of shit, and you know it,” you retorted. “You’ve never been useful for a goddamn thing in your entire life. You beat my mother, beat me, and then left her to die when she got sick like she was a fucking toy you were tired of playing with. All that shit and you think you have any right to talk to me? To approach me and act like nothing happened?”

“Don’t raise your voice at me, girl,” your father warned. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re knocked up, you don’t get to speak to me like that.” 

You weren’t sure what made your body move the way it did, but suddenly you were on your feet with your back facing him. Everything happened of its own accord. The way your feet moved along the pavement. How your heart thundered in your chest so violently you swore it would break your ribs. A sense of self preservation consumed your body and its senses as it did its best to get you away from the threat of your father. You were in no shape to fight, and you couldn’t afford to freeze, so you took flight. 

But you had never been very good at getting away. 

The brutal cycle of getting caught continued in the same way it always had; with a hand around your wrist. Your father’s grip was just as unforgiving as Bukin’s had been, and the same as Eric before him. Just like all the other times, you turned to face the aggressor with a bewildered glare on your face, incapable of holding back neither your fear nor your anger. 

“How long do you think you can keep running? Huh? Before your legs stop working? Before someone breaks them?” he asked, his tone all but demanding an answer from you. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Truly?” you questioned. 

“I’m your fuckin’ father,” he retorted.

Hot breath fanned across your face and you could almost taste the rancid tobacco leftover in his lungs. It was enough to make your stomach turn, and with the anxiety pooling in your stomach you nearly puked, but you held strong as you wiggled your wrist out of his grasp. 

“You are nothing to me. Not my father, not my family; nothing,” you spat. “I know you’ve got it in that thick skull of yours that you have some odd ownership over me because you fathered me, but that’s where our relationship ends. Do you understand me? I’ve lived my life fine without you. I’ll continue without you. I’ll have this kid that you’ll see no part of. I’ll get the life I always deserved while you die, alone and unloved, and nobody will fucking miss you at all.” 

A heavy silence weighed on your shoulders as you watched your father’s face morph in front of you. He was always an angry man, but his true nature was something your nightmares could never quite capture. They could never paint the twitch of his lips or the flexing of his jaw, or the way his fingers buzzed with anticipation. Your fuzzy childhood memories paled in comparison to the real, unbridled enjoyment your father experienced when instilling fear and pain in someone. 

Maybe that’s why you never learned. Not because violence wasn’t a good teacher, but because you could never remember just how bad it hurt. Not until you were there in the maw of the beast. 

Whatever you thought was there lurking in your father’s features vanished faster than it had formed. Your father’s eyes scanned every inch of your scowl and you watched them light up with something sinister and wicked the moment they landed on the corner of your lip. A grin replaced the anger on his face as he took in the sight of that unsightly scar that still plagued the corner of your lips even after all those years, and you almost flinched. As his quiet and sour chuckle sounded, you knew exactly what he thought. He hadn’t given you that scar, which meant you had never truly escaped trouble as much as you wanted to pretend you did. 

But you did. You climbed away from that life, fought tooth and nail just to live without violence, and you made it. Each night you were able to go to bed in the arms of a man who had never once caused you harm. In the mornings you would wake up to fresh air and a chaste kiss before you ever even slithered out from underneath the covers. The only bruises that tainted your skin were ones caused by unseen table corners, not the fists of an angry man. 

Yet you knew he would never believe you. Abusers always had to come out victorious, even if that meant dipping their mind into their own delusions. You would sooner turn to dust and bone before your words would ever reach him, and he seemed to hold himself with pride over that fact. 

He chuckled again, louder that time, and looked down at the ground for a short moment as he shook his head. His eyes landed on you again with humor before he shrugged. “Keep telling yourself that, darling.” 

A large hand settled on your stomach as you felt a looming presence gently pull you away from the monster of your childhood. You didn’t even have to look up at the figure to know it was Simon; you knew him by touch alone. Your body did not untense at all even with him there, and the distilled anger was palpable on your husband. Dark eyes glared at your father, who hardly bothered to look Simon up and down. 

All it would take would be one word. Something to anger your father, to get him to lose his judgment, to get him to lunge. A vile, dormant anger inside of you wanted to. Wanted to goad your father into attacking just to watch what Simon would do. You’d seen what he was capable of. Watched him break a beast’s arm and stomp on it just to feel the bone crunch under his boot. It was so easy for him to pull that trigger and end the life of a man simply for calling you darling. If only he knew half the things your father had said to you. 

How much would he have to bleed to make it feel better? How many bones would have to break? Would it ever be enough? Could more violence ever satiate the need for revenge that stowed itself away inside of you? Did that make you just like your father? Did you even care? No, it would never be enough. There was no penance he could offer you that wouldn’t just turn your stomach sour. 

He would get his turn. One day. If you were lucky, you would never even hear of it. 

“I never want to see or hear from you again. I mean it,” you said as your eyes locked on him. 

Your father’s eyes flickered up to Simon, where he finally seemed to understand the weight of the situation. He was old; a stupid drunk with nothing to fight with but a decayed body and rotten core — something Simon could shatter in an instant. Perhaps he finally realized he didn’t have as much power over his little girl like he thought he did, or maybe his self preservation instincts kicked in, but your father finally took a step back with a shrug. 

“Whatever you want,” he said. 

It wasn’t until you were halfway back to the car that you realized Simon tried to grab your attention. Your name fell from his lips hushed and even, yet no matter how hard he tried it was impossible for him to mask the worry it was drenched with. His pace was slow compared to usual, but then again it wasn’t like you could move as fast as you would have liked. You wanted to run — run to the edge of the world and never look back, yet you were so painfully present on earth. 

“Sweetheart, slow down,” Simon said, trying to calm you. 

“I’m fine.” 

Those were the first words you were able to choke out, and you hadn’t realized how tight your throat felt until you said them. Still, you continued to push ahead, chest heaving with anxiety as you got closer to Simon’s car. All you wanted to do was go home. It seemed that’s all you ever wanted to do. 

“Who was that?” Simon then asked, still trying to pull answers from you. 

“Your father-in-law.” 

There was no need for further explanation. Simon was well aware of the horrors you had to fight when you were a kid. A storm swirled in your mind so violently even he could feel the raging wind, and rather than try and fruitlessly fight it off, he chose to weather the storm with you instead. 

The ride home was a blur with your thoughts so full to the brim yet simultaneously empty. Numb. It had been a long while since you had felt that way, and it didn’t wane until Simon unlocked the door to the flat where you pitifully shuffled over to the couch. Boo beat Simon to your side, and he instantly attempted to climb up on top of your stomach as if it were a perch and not where your child rested inside of you. You wanted to smile at him, but all you could manage was a quivering bottom lip. 

“Sweetheart,” Simon tried again as you pushed your overly zealous cat off your lap. “Talk to me.” 

Instead of sinking into the cushion next to you, he crouched on the floor where his hands quickly found yours. Every nerve in your body felt fried, too hot for you to exist properly. It traversed up your body in painful waves until the pressure built up so much behind your eyes you swore they would burst from your skull. 

“I hate him,” you said, voice trembling. “I hate him so much. It’s been years and- and he shows up now? When everything is good? Wh- When I’m like this?” 

You paused for a moment as the rush of hormones nearly suffocated you. Eyes overflowed with tears as you sniffled back the snot that started to run in your nose. You wanted to take your hands out of Simon’s in order to rub at your eyes, but his thumb running along your knuckles was too comforting for you to deprive yourself of that feeling. 

“And I want him to pay. For everything. For all the years of bullshit he put mum and I through. But it feels so far out of reach because no matter what it’s not good enough. I just hate feeling like this, so fucking useless.” 

Simon’s hands moved up from your hands, across your arms, along your shoulders, and all the way up until he cupped your cheeks in his hands. Everything felt heavy, yet he held your head high as he shifted closer to you. 

“I know it’s hard. It’s never easy running into monsters like him,” he said. “But he’s never gonna see you again. Never layin’ a fuckin’ hand on you either.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… he makes me feel like a kid and I hate it,” you said in a near whisper. 

“I know,” Simon shushed as he moved up to sit on the couch next to you. His arms wrapped around your body as he drew you as close to his chest as your body could comfortably contort. His warmth was all consuming, settling your frayed nerves as his hand traced along your waist. “I know.” 

His chin rested on the top of your head while you did your best to calm your breathing into something more manageable. That simple action — breathing — had already grown to be so difficult those days with the extra weight on your diaphragm, but the crushing feeling of being reduced into nothing but a scared little girl again was unbearable. 

“Family is bullshit, anyway,” Simon suddenly chirped. “Don’t have to keep anyone around that you don’t want. Could just be me and you, if you want. You, me, and our boy.” 

Our boy. Those words had your tears falling harder than they did before. Having a child wouldn’t fix all your problems, and you were very much aware of that fact. Children weren’t supposed to be the glue that mended old wounds, like so many people wished they would be. Yet still, an odd sort of excitement flickered at the thought that you could one day erase it all. Erase all the parts of your life, and replace it with something truly worth living for. 

Like Simon. 

Like your son. 

The prospect of no longer being your father’s daughter was an exciting one. Maybe your unfortunate conversation with him had been the universe’s way of getting you to say goodbye, though you could have very well done without one. Either way, none of it mattered. It was done. You would have a child to fuss over before long, and you didn’t need thoughts of a sour old man ruining that joy. 

You didn’t even think of your father that night as you and Simon settled in for bed. There was too much love to enjoy in the warmth of his arms as he held you close to his chest that there was no room for anything else. Simon’s hands roamed your stomach, as they often did those days, where they settled at the top of your abdomen as if waiting for a good kick. For a moment, everything was still as Boo curled up against your legs with a quiet purr, and a smile curled your lips as you felt Simon’s lips press against the back of your neck. 

Except, no matter how good things got, you always seemed to end up back in that basement. Some days it was difficult to tell if you left a piece of yourself there, or if a piece of it had clung to you even after so many years. Either way, it didn’t change the fact you stood in that room with its pale lilac walls that were still just as empty and bare as the first day you woke up in that cursed place. 

However, several items were missing from their usual spot in that room. There was no door to the bathroom in which you spent so many hours hiding in, or the bed with the quilt you had spent half a day bleeding into. In fact, an entire wall had all but vanished, giving you the perfect view of the ocean with its salty waves. A comforting freshness lingered in the air rather than the rotten scent of iron, and for the first time in years, you didn’t feel scared. 

“He’s so handsome.” 

An old rocking chair creaked in the center of the room as your mother sat rocking a bundle of blankets in her arms. The back of her head faced you as her attention was soaked up by something else, something new, and your wavering feet shuffled closer to her. 

“Who?” you asked, attempting to peer over her shoulder. 

“My grandson,” she replied with a chuckle. 

Impatient eyes peered over your mothers shoulder as you tried to steal a glance at the baby boy, yet no matter what angle you tried to get, his face always seemed to be obscured by the blanket. He was so quiet, so much so that the waves crashing on the shore just beyond that missing wall drowned out each quiet whine and sigh. 

“He looks so much like you,” your mother cooed. “Good thing, too. I was worried he’d get Simon’s nose.” 

You laughed, and it was strange. You never thought you’d be laughing in that basement. 

“Simon’s got a fine nose,” you defended. 

“Oh, I’m sure he does. Underneath all the scar tissue, anyway,” your mother teased. 

Your laughter sounded in harmonious unison as she finally looked away from your son and up at you. Her eyes shined brighter than any other time you could remember in your dreams. She looked so real it was almost like you could reach out and hug her again like you used to when you were a kid. 

“Can I see him?” you asked. 

“Not yet. Just let me have this for a moment. You’ll see him soon enough,” she replied. 

She paused as her bottom lip began to tremble.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. 

“What for?” you asked. 

“Everything.” 

There was no need to ask for further explanation; it was written in her face. Despite everything that had happened to you throughout your life, there was the indomitable will to survive, even if that just meant more suffering. After so many years, your suffering finally bore fruit. You no longer had to go to sleep wondering if you’d wake up to shattered porcelain on the floor. Unlike her, you had escaped.

That’s all she had ever wanted for you — for someone to take care of you. 

Your mother’s attention wandered back to the missing wall in front of her, and your gaze followed. Fluffy clouds billowed along the horizon, and seagulls danced in the sky together while they sang to one another. That ocean was brighter than you had remembered it, like the sun had finally peeked through the clouds. 

“I think it’s time for you to go home,” she said. 

“Home?” you repeated. 

She nodded. “You don’t need to keep coming here anymore.” 

She was right. You were tired of that basement. Tired of the memories that haunted you from time to time. They would always be with you in some way, but you couldn’t wait to drown them with new memories. Better memories. 

There was no need for a goodbye, as you had said them years ago to that wretched place. Instead, your feet trudged forward until carpet turned into grass. Cold wind moved freely around your body as it beckoned you closer to the crashing waves on the sandy shore. When your feet got close enough to the water that it nearly kissed your toes, you turned around only to find the house, and its terrible basement, had vanished. 

That was the last time you ever looked back. 

Searing hot pain ripped through your body when you woke up. It rippled all throughout your abdomen in a wave so vicious it took your breath away. Boo, who had been by your feet when you had fallen asleep, pawed at your face as he purred and bashed his head against yours. The pain left you nearly incapacitated for a moment until the wave eventually waned, and it was only then that you were able to slowly push yourself up so that you sat with your legs over the side of the bed. 

Sticky sweat clung to your body with little remorse for your comfort, and you tried your best to calm your racing heart with a steady breath. In some poor attempt to assist you, Boo pawed at your aching stomach with an annoyed meow. You gently pushed him away, only for him to whine. Simon grunted, half awake yet still irked by the creature’s impressively loud demands for attention. 

Simon didn’t fully wake up until a second wave of pain hit you, and you were unable to hold back the squeaky wince that it forced out of you. The bed shook as Simon’s hulking frame tore the blankets off of his body and scooted so that he sat next to you. His hand rested firmly against your back, yet he almost retracted when he felt your muscles tense and nearly tear with the strength of your contractions. Had it not been for the little human in your womb blocking your way, you were certain you would’ve been doubled over in pain. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart. What do you need?” Simon urged. 

It was impossible to get any words out with the intensity of it all, and for a moment the only thing you could do was pant sharply as you tried to keep yourself from hyperventilating. You leaned your head to the side where it rested on Simon’s shoulder while your teeth nearly shattered as your jaw clenched. Eventually, the pain diminished once more, allowing your brain to clear just long enough to form a proper thought. 

“He’s coming,” you panted. Your hand reached up to wipe the sweat from your upper lip, and your entire body shuddered with a sigh. “Fuck, we gotta- gotta go.” 

“Okay, yeah,” Simon said. 

He slipped off of the bed to stand in front of you, hands quickly capturing yours in his. His voice was calm and even, and not even his grip trembled as he helped you to your feet. Simon was always strong. Never one to show when he was nervous. But even then, you swore you could feel his racing heart pulse in his fingertips. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

[suzayaaa]

ೃ⁀➷ LEAVE, NOW ☆.｡.:*

𓆩⟡𓆪 pairing: jeno x fem!reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count: 1.6k

𓆩⟡𓆪 themes: angst, breakup

𓆩⟡𓆪 warnings: cursing, cheating

𓆩⟡𓆪 suza’s note: can i just say i’m proud of this one…

𓆩⟡𓆪 requested by some of you!

𓆩⟡𓆪 this is an additional part 2 of jeno’s texts in “when will you leave me?” post, but it also works as a separate oneshot if you don’t want to read the texts.

It hurt.

Your heart, your mind, your body. No part of you was able to keep itself strong, to have any kind of energy to be. You were tied to your bed, sinking into the cold sheets with each move like a lifeless animal on its last breath. The breath that hurt so much, grabbing your sore heart and squeezing it violently as you shut your eyes with tears down your cheeks because no matter where you looked, Jeno was there.

The sheets you were lying in wore the scent of his musky cologne. Most of the pictures on your wall were with him, of him, or the moments spent with him. Hell, even the wrinkled t-shirt you were wearing was his. But the worst of all, you only had him in your mind.

No matter where you went and what you did, he followed you like a spell that had to be undone by a witch to let go. In a way, he did put a spell on you—the moment that caused all of this replayed in your head like a broken record, mocking you ruthlessly until you begged on your knees to stop this madness.

The words you’d never imagined to hear, the situation you’d never imagined to happen.

It was a pretty day. Clouds formed what you could call a shadow of blinding sunlight dodging the skyscrapers to reach and lit up your face. A perfect day to surprise Jeno.

You did most of it almost automatically, like a routine. A takeout from his favorite restaurant in one hand and a bag filled with your clothes and skincare products in the other; everything needed for a sleepover.

After three years of calling yourself boyfriend and girlfriend, you were bound to have some sort of security in your relationship and maybe even further and more serious plans for the future. Jeno had suggested first to add your fingerprint to the doorlock of his apartment. You didn’t mind not having it before, but the offer made you smile. It sounded like the next, although tiny, step in your relationship.

You unlocked the door and entered quietly, hoping he wouldn’t be anywhere near the entrance. Just as you were about to put the bags down and take your shoes off, you heard two familiar male voices, but the words were more distant than ever.

“Wait, so you cheated?” Mark asked, voice cracking slightly.

The silence was excruciatingly long. Your heart froze, bruising with each second passing.

“We talked, then she kissed me.” Another pause, shorter, yet more damaging. “It was good… I felt something I never felt with her.”

Her.

He couldn’t even say your name properly.

You were a fool. A stupid, hopeless, desperate fool.

You were now just her, yet you still waited and hoped for him to reach out to you, explain himself, and apologize.

You damned yourself over and over and over again. You were the one who got hurt. Why did you want him back if he stabbed you right in the heart and twisted the knife inside?

Why did you want a cheater back?

Those words wouldn’t leave your mind even for a moment, trapping you in a self-pitying bubble that was too strong and too painful to break through.

You checked the time on your phone. It was still early afternoon, but time wanted to torture you, slowing down and rolling at its own distorted pace to make sure you took a hit with every thought that crossed your mind. Your phone was dry. The only notifications were a daily reminder from a mobile game you haven’t played for a good week and a text from Jaemin you were not ready to deal with yet. Swiping your fingers on both, your eyes clung to the lockscreen for a moment. Just yesterday you would smile looking at it; you and Jeno, beaming to the camera in a cat cafe. He was always so sweet, then he decided to ruin you in the worst way possible. You opened settings, quickly changing the photo to something that would sting your soul a little less. Now it was an old photo of your family dog that never liked you that much to begin with, but dislike was still better than betrayal.

The doorbell sound rang in your ears, forcing you to get up from your bed. You dragged your feet on the cold floor and made your way to the door. Your hand reached for the handle, opening it slowly, not expecting anyone. The sight knocked you down more than any bullet ever could.

Na Jaemin with a firm frown and behind him, the reason for it all.

Lee Jeno.

You wondered if this was how you’d looked like when you’d found out. Eyes glued to the floor, hunched back, arms limp, head down… Did you also look so lost, like the ground was sweeping from under your feet brutally slowly, letting you fall and bruise your body, letting your body take the damage for your mind? Did you also crumble to the ground, looking for any steady thing to hold onto, because hope wasn’t one of those things anymore?

You’d thought you would feel if you saw him. You imagined yourself over a hundred times screaming your lungs out at him, ripping the skin away from his bones, ending his world just like he ended yours.

You should’ve been mad. You should’ve grabbed him by his hoodie and torn him apart to pieces. You should’ve made his heart bleed slowly and painfully, blood dripping on the floor one by one, drip, drip, drip until he was drowning in it. You should’ve ripped your throat yelling every insult you could think of into his face.

You were static. No screams, no cries, no choked-up laughs. You just looked at him, trying to meet his eyes for once. You wanted to get into his arms, cry into his chest, silently blame him for all the pain he had caused. You wanted to understand, but you have never wanted his pain. You have never wanted him to be the same wreck you were now, because nothing hurt more than seeing someone you love being hurt.

“I’m sorry for bringing him,” Jaemin glared at his friend, “but I think he needs to explain himself. It’s better for both of you if you do it immediately.”

Jaemin bowed his head to you, eyes softening in a mix of pity and compassion when he looked at you. He didn’t say anything more, opting to leave you both alone with no choice but to face the inevitable.

“I’m sor-”

“Take your things please.”

Serenity was the look on his face when his eyes met yours. It was clear, clearer than the day you’d found out, that he already knew and expected.

“You won’t even let me explain?”

“Get inside and take your things.”

You didn’t want to let him talk. If you did, your mind would listen to your heart and you would let him stay a little longer.

You watched him get past you into your apartment, muscle memory leading him to your bedroom. You followed him, but stayed at the door. He was quick to start shuffling around your room, taking any belongings of his he could see.

Jeno had always been careful. Those little details you forgot about, like leaving your jewelry in your bathroom after showering or losing your phone somewhere in the sheets every time the alarm went off, Jeno had never missed out on. He almost knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew how to wound you and he still did it, even adding salt to it, making sure the suffering was obvious.

You watched him throw his clothes into the bag he’d once left at your place, arms crossed and a sour frown on your dried face. His back was facing you, thankfully, because you wouldn’t be able to say the things you wanted to his face without shattering your soul entirely.

“I thought I knew you,” you started. Jeno halted his movements, but didn’t turn around, “I thought you were…” the one? No. You wouldn’t say it to him now, he didn’t deserve to know. Choking the tears inside, you continued, fists turning into stone, knuckles white, hiccups turning into venom on your tongue, “You were so casual saying it… You don’t even regret it, do you? You don’t fucking care. You never did.”

Jeno’s voice was hoarse, barely audible even in the uncomfortable silence. “I did.”

A scoff and a single laughter. “No. If you did, you would think about me at that moment. You would think about hurting me, you would care about me, but you didn’t. You don’t care… You know what? Nevermind. Leave, Jaemin will take your shit.”

The bag dropped on the floor with a thud. No words were said anymore, nothing needed to be said; it was over. You met Jeno’s eyes for the last time, stone cold, as if you were a burden or a meaningless obstacle on his way. His shoulder was harsh when he bumped into you, and for a short moment when he’d reached for the door, you hoped.

Maybe a simple sorry would do, maybe it would only crush you more. You wouldn’t know, you let his actions speak instead of words.

The door slam was your goodbye.

Tears flooded your already swollen face, your whole body shaking uncontrollably, sinking into the floor. At that moment, a memory echoed in your mind. A piece of conversation with Jeno you would’ve never thought about, but now, when it was all you could hear, a bitter smile barely creeping up to your face, realizing you always knew.

“When will you leave me?”

“I won’t, baby.”

“Don’t lie, everybody leaves. Some just do it later than others.”

[dead-ringer-if]

DEMO (TBA)

The Wardens, stationed within the bustling city of Seattle, were the first proof of what could come from The Scourge, a cataclysmic event that had set off a chain reaction that would forever echo throughout time: Los Angeles falling into the Pacific, New York City being partially taken over by water, the Sahara Desert sweltering in intensity which killed off native fauna in record amounts, were among the most prominent. Years of misery, of fear, transcending over a century, wherein every remaining government strived to figure out a solution.

Which they found in the form of Titan— the first meta-human, Patient Zero, whose natural abilities were enhanced by various procedures. Titan started a new wave, hope beginning to appear, as more and more meta-humans were found— mainly due to the efforts of the Rose Family— and their naturally honed abilities, seemingly derived from the Scourge itself, being able to combat the effects until there’s only fractal remnants of it left.

From there The Wardens were formed, with Titan leading them, a new period of peace fell over the world once more. Of course, that never lasts as more and more villains began to pop up out of the woodworks, threatening the sanctity of the New World. However, without fail, The Wardens were there to answer the call and defend those that couldn’t defend themself.

Titan persevered, The Wardens went on, until a fateful day a decade ago on this date— wherein Titan lost Peregrine, their sidekick and protege. It’s a day that will forever live in infamy, as it’s a day that Titan lost Peregrine, but the world lost Titan.

— Excerpt from the Seattle Times.

The world was your oyster— at least that’s what you were told. By who? You’re not quite certain of that. Everything could be possible if you just strived to reach it… They just never tell you how to deal with the harsh reality of it forever being unobtainable.

Maybe that’s why you fell into a life of crime? Well crime is a stretch, you’re more a prisoner in a heavily guarded fortress than anything else. You’re not quite sure, not being able to remember the majority of what brought you to this moment; only fragments of what used to be visits you in your sleep. Of course, working for Diego Ruiz, the local crime boss in downtown New York City, wasn’t the worst possible job, barring the imprisonment, not that you were truly part of anything nefarious to begin with, but you still saw things you’re never sure you’ll be able to unsee.

When he gets arrested, you can’t say you’re too surprised— after all he took a lot of gambles while not having the intellect to back up such moves— but you are concerned about what the future could mean for you.

Nothing you ever imagined could prepare you for what’s in store, however. Never could have imagined The Wardens would have such a vested interest in you. You’re nothing special, haven’t been for as long as you could remember.

And why the hell do they keep calling you Peregrine?

Play as an MC that doesn’t quite remember their past life. Is it possible that you’re Peregrine? The protege that had been killed in a surprise raid a decade before? Or is something more nefarious going on and you’re simply caught in the middle of it? Why are you suddenly developing powers that you’ve never had before? And why the hell do you feel like you’re in a constant state of deja vu?

Please note that this story is rated 18+ for depictions of explicit language, alcohol consumption, potential drug use, sexual themes, mentions of death, blood, torture, and grief.

Customizable MC: name, nickname, appearance, sexuality, hobbies, bits and pieces of what occurred in the last decade, and more! (The MC has a slightly semi-set personality.) You’ll also be able to partially design your Avian friend: name, gender, and feather colors (it’s a Peregrine Falcon). The MC is 28.

Bond with The Wardens and discover, or potentially rediscover, your found family. The people who thought they lost you.

Uncover the seedy underbelly that lurks beneath the surface of the New World. Will you be able to discover what exactly happened to you? Uncover if you’re truly Peregrine or someone, or something, else entirely.

Romance 1 of 4 romance options— from the newest initiate within the Inner Circle to a suave, if slightly broken, billionaire villain.

Cultivate your powers that are both new and old.

You’re a dead ringer for a hero the world thought it lost… Just make sure you don’t lose yourself too.

Camilo/Camila Osorio — M/F

Age: 29

Power: Chlorokinesis — the ability to create and control plants.

Alias: To the world they’re known as Verdant, partner to Frostbite, a superhero within the Inner Circle of The Wardens.

Appearance: Of Colombian descent, they have richly tanned skin with piercing dark brown eyes to offset it. Ash brown hair is naturally slightly wavy— Camilo has his to his jawline and Camila has hers to her shoulder blades— which brings out the elegant contours of their face. An alluring presence all around, partially due to their powers, they stand at around 5’5” with a lithe body type.

Personality: While not being completely unkind, they’re not the most welcoming person. They don’t detest you, but it’s clear that they’re barely able to be in the same room with you. After all, they were best friends with Peregrine (with you?) and being near you only brings back painful memories. A wall of apathy, and sometimes cutting remarks, separate you from them, but at times, when they think you’re not looking, grief flashes through their gaze— latent pain rising to the surface that they’ve tried to bury for years.

Romance Route: Ex-Best Friends to Lovers, Slightly Rivals to Lovers (in a roundabout way), Lost Love, Finding Each Other Again, and Second Chances.

Airan/Aira North — M/F

Age: 26

Power: Cryokinesis — the ability to create and control ice, while not being affected by the cold.

Alias: To the world they’re known as Frostbite, partner to Verdant, the recent addition to the Inner Circle of The Wardens, a prodigy in the making.

Appearance: Ebony ringlets, that’s strewn with arctic blue and white, fall to just beneath their jawline, complementing the dark brown tone of their skin. Sapphire blue eyes shimmer with warmth despite the coldness that always seems to follow them. With a slender physique, they’re not one to get into fist fights but that doesn’t negate the danger level they could present. They stand at around 5’8”.

Personality: With the warmest smile and a boisterous laugh, they’re the embodiment of a golden retriever. Always wanting to make other people happy and stress free, with a genuine quality that surrounds them. They may be one of your “caretakers” to help you get acclimated with the world once more, and your growing powers, but they truly wish to be your friend too. No matter what they’d always be there to lend a hand if needed, or a shoulder to cry on.

Romance Route: Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Golden Retriever, Stuck Together, Gentle Compassion.

Damon/Diana Ambrose — M/F

Age: 45

Power: Widely regarded as the most powerful meta-human, partially due to their past that’s still shrouded in mystery, they have multiple abilities— flight, invulnerability, enhanced senses, and super strength (to name a few).

Alias: They’re known to the world as Titan, the old leader of The Wardens. An individual that hasn’t been seen in nine years and rarely, if ever, leaves the comfort of Warden Tower.

Appearance: Fair, perfectly unblemished, skin is complemented by the raven black color of their hair. Piercing green eyes, that look almost unreal due to their brilliance, brings out the chiseled features of their face— high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, well defined nose, and full lips. They were made for perfection, but is it truly all that it’s cracked up to be? With a toned/well muscled body, they stand at around 6’3”.

Personality: With a softly compassionate nature, paired with a presence that could silence an entire room by simply appearing, they were born to be a leader. Born to guide and help any that needed it. With a loving demeanor, wherein they have their heart on their sleeve, it’s no wonder that they took Peregrine in, at the ripe age of fifteen, in order to help train the young person that was clearly trying to find their way in the world. It’s also no wonder that they completely lost themself when losing Peregrine, something that they believe could have been completely avoided, and they’ve forever blamed themself for it. The last decade has brought with it a slew of darkness for them, their smiles not coming as easily, their anger at themself growing, and their hope slowly fading. Maybe with your reappearance things will be okay?

Romance Route: Old Mentor, Age Gap, Second Chances, Reunion, Forbidden Love (on their part), and Slow Burn.

Morgan/Morgana Rose — M/F

Age: 38

Power: Shapeshifting.

Alias: They’re infamously known as Silhouette. The leader of a criminal enterprise known simply as Syndicate.

Appearance: With sharp gray eyes, that seemingly stare right into your soul, and honey beige skin that’s complemented by their wavy auburn hair. They have an aura of danger consistently surrounding them, giving many the impression that they shouldn’t be trifled with. With a lean body type, they stand at around 6’0”.

Personality: Being called a variety of names within the tabloids: “The Lost Rose” or “Wilting Red”, to name a few— due to their abrupt departure from their rather famous family. They’re infamously known as Silhouette; a master manipulator, cutthroat in their dealings, and refusal to backdown over something they want. Of course, that’s simply gossip from individuals that have never truly met them— much like the tabloids that speculate on the life of the lost Rose Heir. Despite what you may think of them, they’re your best bet at discovering what happened to you in the last decade.

Romance Route: Enemies to Lovers (in a sense), Slow Burn (slightly), Age Gap, Villain/Hero, Misunderstood.