#maybe this is in lore and I just haven’t read it and if that’s the case please correct me

[jupitermarss]

unexpected company

shy alien!chan x human!reader warnings: blowjob, corruption kink kinda, aliens, monsterfuck(?), alternative anatomy, sub!chan listen this has no coherent lore or artistic purpose, it’s pure self indulgent filth aka shy alien channie gets a blowjob for the first time ever for the vibes think the avatar’s navi meets stitch meets bang chan. 

moving slightly off grid to finally escape the noise of the city and live out your little house in the woods dream seemed peaceful. uneventful even, because the most that would happen was a hare visiting once in a few moons. that was until a little almond shaped spacecraft crashlanded meters away from your cabin, turning life upside down because not only did it scare the daylights out of you, there was also a pilot inside the ship.

his skin was tinted blue, eye scleras fully black, which, surprisingly... only made him less intimidating, somehow. the visitor was humanoid, slightly lankier than your average male, with a smooth, almost animal-like grace, somewhat primal yet contrasting with his outstanding intelligence and skill in both language and engineering.

when you’d first locked eyes with each other, it wasn’t fear or dread that struck you. on some intuitive and body language reading level, just by one look at your newfound alien company, you figured he was probably even more distressed and frightened than you were. so your initial response was laced with confusion and compassion instead. maybe, a sparkle of curiosity and suspicion, too. 

you gave him water, tried to keep your own body language neutral and non-threatening, showing you were only trying to help and meant no harm. 

this is how it started. 

to answer the question of how it’s going, there’s definitely nuance. 

first of all, he’s now living with you because he needs time to patch up his spacecraft. with limited tech resources available here on earth, it’s taking longer than it could have. 

second of all, he started speaking. he introduced his name to you first, but it sounded like a combination of sounds your mind couldn’t even grasp to then repeat. it was long, tongue twisting and unclear, so you settled on a simpler alternative that phonetically resembled the original name — chan. 

chan picked up basic english in a matter of days and was clearly of some further evolved species than humans. 

he enjoyed pineapple juice and noodle soups, and refused to consume anything else that wasn’t those two options. 

he also had little antennae on the top of his head, that you soon figured were extremely sensitive and almost sacred of a body part, because when you reached to touch them once, he hissed for a warning and sneered as his body tensed up in a reflex response. 

channie wasn’t hostile at all, though. he respected you and your space, keeping his head down and not making much sound, only asking for things when he absolutely needed them. it seemed like where he came from — was an organized and neat, highly developed society that honored manners, respect, knowledge and… modesty? you weren’t sure if it was the right way to describe this certain feeling you were getting. maybe, channie was just… shy. which, if you were being honest with yourself, stirred something inside of you that only fueled the desire to get to know him better. closer. 

“screwdriver, where?” chan asks, popping his head into the living room where you’re now resting with a book in your hands. 

“ahh, not sure? maybe look in the garage, or the kitchen drawers?” you respond and briefly glance at the clock to then realize that he’s been up since 6 in the morning and still haven’t had a breather. 

“chan, aren’t you tired? maybe have a little break?” you add a second before he disappears again, and he stops, perking up his antennae and giving you an almost confused glance. 

“need repair ship. get home!” chan waves his hands as he speaks with a thick adorable accent. 

“i know. but you need rest, too. it’s okay to take a break for an hour.”

“and do what?” 

“rest.” you repeat gently, putting away a long forgotten book and patting the sofa, as if inviting him to sit and join you.

he hesitates but listens, probably out of politeness since you’re the host and he’s the guest, and it would be rude to just walk away from you. as he’s sitting on the sofa, it’s evident that he’s waiting for some sort of instruction or explanation from you, unsure what resting really means. 

“i can help you relax if you let me,” you propose carefully, leaning closer and putting your hand on his thigh, gently caressing him with soothing repetitive motions. 

chan blinks, naive and clueless, but he can admit the touch feels nice, so his body loosens up a little as he sinks further into the pillows. 

there’s a certain level of trust between you already, and you know he isn’t scared or concerned around you, which pushes you further to test out the waters. you slide your palm a little higher to his crotch, and he immediately turns his head to you. 

“why touch?” chan asks with sincere confusion. 

“because it feels good?” 

now it's your turn to be confused. has he never had sex before? is sex even a thing where he’s from? 

“feel good? dunno, chan never touch there,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders and then looking down at his own groin. 

oh.

you swallow and try to keep your cool, even though a strange and probably inappropriate wave of excitement jolts through your body at the news. 

“i can show you. it can feel very good and relaxing. you don’t have to worry, it’s not… painful or anything. it’s nice. can i show you?” you explain and try to sound as reassuring as you can, reading his facial expressions at the same time. 

while you’re studying him so closely, you can’t help but notice how ungodly, unearthly pretty he actually is. his grown out black locks and his sharp eyebrows give him an almost disheveled look yet he still looks so put together, so deeply intelligent. your gaze trails lower and stops at his lips. they’re a darker tint of blue, plush and perfectly shaped. you can tell they’re soft and tender just by looking at them. 

his nailbeds are the same dark blue as his lips, and it gives an impression of matching lipstick and nail polish, kind of rebellious and cute, except it’s just his natural body colors. refreshing.

he’s well built, too. like he can easily climb a tree if he needs to. like he will confidently pilot a heavy aircraft with stiff gears and controls. 

“you can show,” his voice takes you out of your haze, and you refocus on his eyes and scoot a little closer, so that now your noses are almost touching. 

“you can trust me. i won’t hurt you,” you reassure him one last time before planting a gentle kiss on his lips. you hear his breath hitch. gosh.

your movements are slow, patient and soft. the last thing you’d want is to scare him. 

as you undo his pants (the ones he was originally wearing. you washed them after the crash. the fabric is weird and the clasp is some smart unusual shape you’d never seen before), he shifts in place and jerks his hips nervously. this is the first time you see him blush, and it’s an even prettier look than his regular state because the tips of his pointy ears and his cheeks change to a deep violet color. 

chan’s hot to the touch too, and if you didn’t know it’s his natural body temperature, you’d think he's running a fever incompatible with life. his skin is literally burning up which, in contrast with its cold color, makes your brain shortcircuit and buffer every time you feel him.

he’s not wearing any underwear, just his strangely tailored pants, and when you cover his cock with your palm, you gasp out of surprise at what it feels like. 

it’s different. it’s definitely different. 

the shape is closer to a tentacle than a regular cylinder length. it’s twitchy and almost.. alive. flexible and extremely responsive to every brush of your hand.

under a little dark blue tip it’s slightly ribbed and bumpy, hardened but still feels like flesh. 

the antennae on his head begin to tremble, and chan’s breath quickens in a matter of seconds. you both glance at each other confused but with a distinct spark of interest. it’s new to both of you but something nudges you two to keep going. 

you slowly slide onto the floor and get on your knees in front of him, pushing his legs apart and situating yourself comfortably while his cock is out, on full display. sensitive and starting to leak some sort of thick and sticky slick from its slit. 

“a-aah—what-” chan stumbles over his own words, clearly too heated and disoriented to be speaking a language he’d only just learned. 

“sh-h, it’s okay. i’ll touch, and you’ll feel good” you whisper as you lightly squeeze the base of his length, trying to pump him up and down and coat him with his own precum. 

at this point, you’re done fighting your curiosity, so you lick at the head of his cock to taste it, and it takes you aback. it’s… not salty. in fact, it’s the opposite, and reminds you of something close to burnt sugar. kind of sweet, but rich, deep, heavy and with a pinch of something you can’t quite name. 

you take the entire tip into your mouth and suck on it, creating a little vacuum pull with your cheeks, to which chan jolts and almost coughs on his own suppressed moan. 

"do you want me to continue or do you want me to stop?" you ask to make sure.

"no—not stop... continue. please?" he shakes his head and furrows his eyebrows, still flushed with purple hued blush. 

he doesn’t need to ask twice. it’s all the confirmation you need, so you begin to suck again, bobbing your head and trying to take him in deeper each time. he fills your mouth nice and full, hot like gentle lava and textured like a dream come true.

you can only wonder how good and stimulating it must feel against your cunt, if it feels this good against the insides of your cheeks. 

chan’s cock twitches and pulsates for you, its tip pressing against the back of your throat and the roof of your mouth as if it’s also exploring you. as if chan wants to feel up your mouth, map it out with his sensitive part and push into you some more, mutually test how far he can go. 

at some point, you’re not even sure who’s fucking who. because as you grow more confident and properly sink down on him with your mouth, chan’s playing with you back, whether he's even aware he's doing it or not—you can't really tell. his heavy length presses on your tongue which makes more saliva drip down your chin. he rubs against the velvety insides of your cheeks and pushes at them with his curious tip.  one thrust he forces himself in too far, and you gag on it with a lewd sound that makes your own cunt clench.

the little bumps on his cock feel even more prominent now, almost massaging your lower lip with each push inside your mouth, with each slide down your tongue into your throat. somehow, even though you were the one starting it, you no longer feel much in control, now relaxing your jaw and mindlessly allowing chan to use and study you.

chan fully melts into the couch and lets himself get vocal, still tugs at the fabric of the sofa with his fingers as his antennae go limp and frizzy from new overwhelming sensations. 

a release catches both of you off guard as his cock shoots a fat warm load right down your throat. you barely manage to swallow it in time, and it feels similar to drinking hot honey milk in one gulp, only slightly thicker and silkier. 

his tentacle-y length falls onto his exposed stomach with an obscene wet slap, and chan tries to look down at you, his eyes unfocused and drunk-like. 

“did it feel good?” you whisper, hoarse and raspy, licking your lips and swallowing once again. 

“yes—feel good... good,” he replies with a nod, visibly spent and still out of it. 

the image makes you chuckle and smile proudly. 

“do again?” chan asks with a tint of hope. 

“what, right now?!” 

“no, no. no now. do again later?”

you snort and tilt your head to the side, eyeing him and, once again, thinking about how cute he is in his blissful unawareness and inexperience. 

“sure.” 

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

For a game with central themes such as „every being should have a right to self-determination and autonomy“, „inclusionary communities forms bonds strong enough to protect themselves from forces that seek to prey on it“, „free will, though scary and potentially leading to harmful actions, is something worth defending for every being“, and „the cruelty the universe can spawn can be overcome with the will to continue on and do better for your people“, I find it so disappointing we‘ve had little lore that give psions the spotlight, let alone a narrative that focuses on their struggle to build back their culture and lives after who-knows-how-many-years of servitude.

I feel like the psions are the most underdeveloped in-game species, and when we do get development for them, it’s always in the context of them serving the cabal empire or the Conclave taking on antagonistic roles to sabotage the efforts of the Vanguard. I love the development of the eliksni and how in recent years, the game has really been pushing stories that humanize them, validates their struggles, and gives them hope for the future of their species, I just wish psions got the same courtesy.

Yes, they were freed under Caiatl‘s rule, but that wasn‘t given much narrative emphasis as they either continued to act for the empire or joined the Conclave, neither of which gave them a stronger presence in the story or a character that joins our cast of allies .

What was their servitude like? How much cruelty and discrimination did they face? Were there revolutions and movements for better legal protections? What parts of their culture, besides religion, did they bring with them when they were taken by the empire? Is there still anti-psion sentiments present in Uluran culture? What was their home planet like and do elder psions remember it like Riis-born eliksni remember Riis?

The psions have been influenced by Nezarec/the Witness, have been a part of the cabal empire and it’s turmoils for an extended period of time, posses incredible intelligence and psionic powers (that may have connections to the darkness), have a religious schism that was affected by Nezarec’s disappearance and the empire preventing open practices of their beliefs, and yet they are always treated as an afterthought (usually antagonistic), a one-off character in lore, or given a subservient role.

Psions are so cool and deserve the universe, yet we are given crumbs when we could have meals that accentuate the messages Destiny is trying to craft, such as respecting the right of others to have beliefs and perceptions of their own. Psions feel less like people and more like characters playing side roles to progress smaller story beats. It’s so infuriating and I don’t know if Bungie is just too timid to tackle a story involving slavery, there wasn’t enough time to develop them, or Bungie never intended for them to be more than what they currently are. I have hope we will get something soon though!!!

Acasia I haven’t forgotten about you and I never will!!

[ki1ldeer]

Classes started… already sick of this (I haven’t even been to my first class yet). Drew my boys to decompress ✌️😞

[akkivee]

it’s so crazy to think that neither nemu nor kuukou graduated from high school LOL

[hopecomesbacktolife]

thinking of rereading the entirety of HoME again. for my health

[deus-ex-mona]

yurusanta: the ✨gift✨ that keeps on ✨giving✨

[thedeadthree]

🥀💌🕯️💀 <33

*old person yells at cloud* THEORY TIME <3 but i was thinking of the skill trees screens we’ve seen so far and i am like…… super certain that ingellvar is the mourners surname and soo that calls for an update to irulannes pin interest board <33

(ill cry change it if it isn’t though but hehe anyway im stoked to at last have a surname for when i save her edits bc rn her folder says i.datv xixjjxhx *WHEEZE* 💀)

[saintbuffy]

got some new books at the library today 😈 hehehe

[aeyumicore]

wasteland

decades after the destruction of judgement day, you return to the abyss meadow—now an empty wasteland. a painful walk down memory lane has you remembering all the sinful things sylus did to you on the day he’d brought you to the blooming field of blood-red datura.

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: dragon!sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings/angst, angst with slight/no comfort (depends how you want to look at it), fluff, continuation of myths

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 15.9k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, dragon!sylus, two dicks!sylus, dom!sylus, monsterfucking, HEAVY SPOILERS and references to sylus’s lore/myths (beyond cloudfall), themes of depression/trauma/loss of a loved one, marking (scratching and biting) and possessive behavior, implied virginity loss (both mc and sylus), slight BARELY coercion (trust me mc is more than willing), p in v, fingering with claws, eating out, face riding, horns as handlebars, belly bulge, belly swelling from cum, double penetration (in v), slight bondage with sylus’s tail, no protection, breeding kink, talks of mating and pregnancy, multiple orgasms, somewhat angst no comfort (depends how you look at it), has some comfort, some fluff, lots and lots of smut, knotting, fucking with knot, lots of overstimulation, boobie play, lots of making out, lots of biting, use of Y/N, use of petnames (sweetheart, little dragon, dove, sparrow, love, sorceress), slight references to ‘please & thank you’ fic (easter egg dialogue hehe), will add more warnings as needed

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: wasteland song - has arcane spoilers (please listen to before reading) | wasteland song - no arcane spoilers | beyond cloudfall myths | ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: helloooooo she is finally here jfc. first and foremost PLEASE listen to the song linked above before reading as it was a HEAVY inspiration for the angst portion of the fic, as well as parts of the fluff. of course it’ll still make sense without watching and listening but i think it’s much more impactful with, otherwise the lyrics are whatever haha. 

the song is wasteland - royal & the serpent from the netflix series arcane by riot games! highly recommend watching if you haven’t :) 

secondly, this fic contains HEAVY HEAVY spoilers and references to ‘beyond cloudfall’ - sylus’s second myth set, which i’ve also linked above. if you haven’t done those and care about spoilers, i would not recommend reading this. also it won’t make as much sense if you don’t know what happened in those myths, but the smut still makes sense re: sylus is a dragon. 

please enjoy <3 i will admit this was really difficult for me to finish, i don’t know what it was, i lost steam half way through and really had to force myself. i am not 100% happy with the way it turned out, but i also did really enjoy writing it! i think i cried multiple times writing this lmao

will likely be on a writing hiatus. if i do write it will be for caleb :D until next time friends. i love you <3

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

♫ I've held on for as long as I can, For the ones that I had to defend, I've been strong every day of my life, If she wants, death could take me this time. ♪ 

♪ This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow, I used to have strength, but I ran out of hope, I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone, This world is a wasteland, Please let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go. ♫

♫ If I could just lay my head down and rest, If there was nothing to fight or protect, Maybe then I could finally be free, Maybe death is like falling asleep. ♪

Hollow requiems echo in the recesses of your numbed soul, overtaken by the howling of the violent wind. Your heels crunch against barren ground, covered in fragments of basalt and granite, a speckled sea of death. 

It was hard to imagine that this very valley was once covered in countless blossoming blood-red datura, peppered across the vast green fields of the meadow. Like the twinkling stars in the open night sky you’d spent many hours staring up at, atop the cliff top lair you briefly called home, years ago. 

The memory of the blooming flowers, nestled against the stark contrast of those powerful ebony horns, the faint notes of requiems once sung under the gleaming moonlight, taunt you as they resonate in your aching mind. Your tail flickers, soul clenching in distaste. 

Or perhaps it was your fragmented, barely-beating, heart. It was hard to tell these days.  

You draw a shaky breath, willing your body to continue forward. It’d been decades since you’d last come here. After the events of the last Doomsday, events that you were all too familiar with, Philos had fallen to chaos and ruin. Tarus City was no exception.

And of course, the meadow had not been spared. 

Guilt gnaws at you, clawing deeper than any beast ever could. The meadow–the resting place of your beloved. Your dragon. 

Sylus.

Of course, it looked a little different now. Nothing like the day he’d pressed his lips to your forehead for the last time, his soul returning to the clouds above.

You stare out into the rolling hills of charred forests, the arid rivers snaking through the canyon like a dragon’s spine. Flecks of ember from the destruction of Doomsday still flit against the winds around you like dancing midnight petals. But there’s no flowers in sight. Not a single one. 

The endless crimson mountain range stretches around you like an aegis, almost as if trying to protect the innocence that was once kept hidden here. A lifetime ago.

What a joke. 

Everything you had ever held dear, ripped from your hands. Flaunted before you, reminding you of how helpless you’d been to fate’s cruel whims. 

♪ This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. ♫

“What I desire is to live freely and die without regrets.” You’d said that, once upon a time. 

Did you?

If you died tomorrow, could you say you had no regrets?

Your fists clench at your sides, your claws digging into your palms, sure to break skin and draw blood. You knew the answer to that. 

You’d devoted your life to filling countless troves with what treasures remained on the empty husk of Philos and enacting revenge on the members of the Sanctuary and Legion that’d survived Doomsday. Revenge and plunder, just like old times.

The day those horns had dawned from your head, your tail descending from your spine, you’d become one with Sylus. He gave you power; he gave you freedom.

So why now, when you’d accomplished everything you’d always wanted, did your life feel anything but free? 

Everything you thought you’d wanted.

So what did you want now?

“You know, Tarus City can have flowers that bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the sound of his voice in your mind is as clear as the first time you’d heard it in the obsidian chapel. The same moonlit chapel in which you’d promised your souls to one another.  

Lead weighs on your chest as you gaze out at the desolate fields, once a spiritual sanctuary for Sylus and you. Could it ever return to the way it was? Could flowers really bloom here again?

You’d give anything to see just one of those ruby moonflowers again, petals the same shade of scarlet as the eyes you’d dreamt of, time and again. 

But like those beautiful eyes, you knew deep down. You’d never see those daturas again. 

♫ I used to have strеngth, but I ran out of hope. ♪

You resolve yourself to go numb, as you had countless nights before, when dreams alluded you and nightmares sought you. Your body moves mindlessly on its own, your eyes glazed as you watch the cloudless sky above. 

Would Sylus be disappointed if he saw you now? An empty shell of the sorceress that’d unsealed him from the Abyss and freed him in more ways than one. 

Once upon a time, you could put on a brave mask in the face of losing your dragon. 

But over time, the memory of his body, heavy and whole, fading in your arms, the petals of his soul slipping through your trembling fingers, etched itself into your soul. No matter how hard you tried to forget, you’d always remember. And because of that, your courage quickly turned into a searing rage that consumed every fiber of your being.

What would he think?

Well, you’ll never know will you? The voice in your head taunts, unmistakably yours, yet foreign and faraway. 

Since you’re the one who plunged that sword into his heart.

♪ I know it’s my fault that I’m here all alone. ♫

Eventually, you find yourself atop a small clearing overlooking the entire valley. An eerie sense of familiarity grapples at you as you stare out into the horizon, feeling nearly as empty as the land before you. 

You’re not sure when it started to happen. The days started to feel longer. You could no longer hear the melody in songs, see the beauty in patterns, taste the flavors in fruits you once loved. 

All things unnecessary to a dragon’s survival.

Were you surviving? Your heart was beating, blood coursed through your veins, air traveled through your lungs, and yet…

You didn’t feel alive.

♫ This world is a wasteland. ♪

The wind howls on, the swirling ash making your eyes prickle. You turn on your heel to leave. There’s nothing left for you here. Nothing but fragments of the life you could’ve had, with Sylus. 

But as the sun melts into the sky, descending into the crimson expanse of mountains, your soul is hit with memories so clear you double over, clutching your shoulder as it throbs.

“Only you and this flower…can touch me here.”

You stifle a sob, your other hand coming up to cover your mouth as you stare out into the bittersweet dusk. The way the waning light descends the scarlet contours, perfectly framing the once picturesque grove. And then it hits you, all at once like a wave crashing against you, pulling you under, until you can’t breathe. 

This is the exact spot Sylus had taken you to the first time he’d brought you to the Abyss Meadow. After the night you’d promised your souls to one another.

The exact spot he’d let you weave those same delicate daturas into his horns, grimacing adorably the entire time as you did so. Where you rolled around the meadow grasses in his willful arms, revenge and the Sanctuary a long forgotten thought, just you and your dragon. 

The spot he’d kissed you for the very first time. The first of what you’d thought would be a lifetime of kisses shared with him. 

Where you’d shared yourselves wholly, bodies and soul, every touch a promise, every kiss a vow. 

The mark on your shoulder burns, your vision hazing with tears that you’re not sure you can blame on the ash anymore. Clenching your eyes shut, you blink them away, trying to steel your resolve and push the memories back down, where you’d kept them hidden for decades. 

♪ I'm not ready to face it. ♫

But they rattle violently in the cage you’d built for them, your spirit is unrelenting. Or perhaps, it’s the remnants of his own soul etched into yours that refuse to let you fade completely into the darkness. 

♫ Don't go saying goodbye. ♪

Eventually the branding waves of agony that radiated from the bite thrum to a pulsing halt, replaced with a heat that was all too familiar. You finally crack open your teary eyes, your vision filled with the breathtaking canvas of sunset. 

The colors cast the withered meadow in the same breathtaking glow from that day.

♫ There's a beauty in changes, and I wanna try. ♪

–

Red.

Growing up in the Ivory City, you were surrounded by nothing but the blinding incandescence of white marble that was said to symbolize purity and prosperity. On the other hand, the children of the Sanctuary had been conditioned to associate the color red with Doomsday, the Fiend, and death.

But as the flecks of vermillion heat sparkled in Sylus’s eyes, his sultry gaze flickering to your lips, you knew you’d never known a color so beautiful.

“But only for one person,” he murmurs, claws gently gripping your neck, his other hand stroking the datura he’d placed behind your ear. Sylus takes a second to admire the delicate flower, imagining Tarus City covered in them. And you, among them, serenading those familiar requiems for him. 

His hooded eyes meet yours again, and a low growl elicits from his chest as his body is overcome with a burning need to claim you. His beloved.

“Sylus…” you plead breathily, squirming under his gaze and shifting atop him, still straddling him in the field of blooming red moonflowers. Sylus hisses, his slackened jaw twitching and his claws digging into your chin, bringing you closer.

“You had better watch yourself, my little sorceress,” Sylus purrs dangerously, fighting to maintain control, “I should warn you–”

Your heart hammers, pounding audibly in your ears, as Sylus pulls you the rest of the distance in. His bottom lip grazes against yours as his eyes flutter shut, his breath hot and sweet, “I don’t have the patience to wait any longer.”

He wastes no time before furiously crashing his lips to yours, claiming what was his. His claws are deliciously possessive as they trace your racing pulse, savoring the way your body  trembles under his touch. 

You moan into his open lips when his fingers softly wrap around your neck, the tips of his ebony talons tracing soft patterns into your skin. He smirks against your lips, taking the opportunity to push his hot tongue against yours, tasting every inch of you.

The world around you fades away, your senses filled with only him. You can vaguely feel his tail wrapping around your thigh, the tip stroking the bare skin of your calf as you tightly clutch his hips. 

The raw passion of his tongue against yours makes it feel as if he’s nearly breathing fire into your soul, his body growing more demanding as he feels your heat pulse against the growing bulge in his pants. The intoxicating smell of your arousal nearly sends him into a frenzy, and it takes everything within him to not throw you under him right then and there. 

When you finally pull away to breathe, you’re a panting blushing mess. Sylus on the other hand only smirks up at you, his frustratingly beautiful face lightly dusted in a peachy sheen. Overcome with the urge to wipe the smug look off his face, you brush your thumb across his kiss-bitten bottom lip, forcefully resituating yourself on his lap. You bite back your grin when he hisses, his claws digging into the fat of your hips.

“What did you mean, when you said ‘you couldn’t wait any longer’?” you tease, fueled with confidence as you watch his vermillion eyes darken, the muscles of his abdomen tensing as your hands trace their way down his body. When your fingers graze the blood-red gem embedded in his chest, Sylus’s hand catches your wrist, his grip firm yet tender.

He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing your palm into his lips, “Do you really need me to say it?”

You bat your eyelashes innocently at him, pouting, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sylus’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, his eyes gleaming mischievously. His eyes never leave yours, the heated desire in them making the arousal between your legs increase, as he kisses your fingertips one by one.

“Dragons are solitary,” he says, kissing the pad of each finger. His tail uncoils from your thigh, only to loosely wrap around your waist, reminding you of how the mountain cat would twist its tail around your ankle.

“We grow up together, in packs,” his words are melancholic, as if remembering a painful memory, but when his ruby eyes return to yours they shine as bright as the waning sun above you, “But when we reach adulthood, we tend to go off on our own.” 

You pondered his words, waiting for him to go on and doing your best to swallow the lump of emotions that’d formed in your throat at the thought of Sylus, alone for centuries. He nips at your fingers, his tongue coming out to lick tenderly at your skin. 

The swirling heat in his crimson orbs are shadowed under his thick eyebrows, the very eye you’d been so drawn to boring into your newly intertwined souls. 

“Can you recall what that human said that day at the market? The merchant?”

You nod curiously, biting back the shiver as Sylus continues to lick at your skin, daring further and letting his canines graze you, “Yes. That the Fiend would meet his destined archnemesis once more.”

His hands abandon yours, settling instead around your waist. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he beckons you down towards him, the corners of his lips quirking upward as he watches you squirm, a faint gasp escaping your parted mouth when his claws inch their way up your exposed back.

“Archnemesis…” he scoffs cryptically, pushing your body down against his chest, wrapping his thick arms around your smaller body, “Such a foolish human concept.”

Sylus shifts so that you’re lying completely on top of him, his tail securing you against his heavy abdomen, the unmistakable outline of something large and terrifying pressed against your core. 

“Fate binds souls together–it’s written in the cosmos far above the clouds before the existence of time. Two souls that are a reflection of each other, in enmity and devotion. It’s much more than a mere destined archnemesis. This is the way of the world.”

The weight of his words begins to dawn on you, the meaning of them pressing heavily on your thundering heart. Sylus presses his lips to the mark he’d left on your shoulder in what felt like a lifetime ago.

“Ngh–!” you cry, Sylus’s teeth sinking into you. He bites down, tail constricting around you, wanting to hold you closer–tighter. You squirm against him, fingers pulling at his silver tresses, nearly seeing white as the pleasure and pain simultaneously shoots out from the crook of your neck, ebbing into every nerve of your body.

You can feel Sylus’s smug smile against your throbbing skin, his own hips coming up to grind torturously against you. He’d grown painfully hard, his cock unbearably hard in the restraints of his pants, fighting its way to get to you.

“Dragons live in solitude for the remainder of their lives,” he continues, his lips suddenly at your ear as you’re panting into his hard chest, trying to control your pathetic moans, “But some are fortunate enough to find–what you humans might call–their soulmates.”

Sylus grabs your jaw, forcing you to focus your hazy eyes on his. Though his grip is bruising, his thumb strokes soothing circles into your skin.

“A dragon mates for eternity, in this life and the next. There is only one–if even that.”

“Archnemesis, soulmate, mate. Call it what you will,” he whispers huskily, the desire in his voice palpable as he brings your chin in, his eyes darkening with a mix of lust and adoration. Your chest flutters as you take in the implication of Sylus’s words. The puzzle pieces of your fractured life began to fall into place–the Sanctuary, the weapon inside you, the golden lamp you’d treasured. Everything.

“I have known your soul was destined for mine, long before you pulled that Gods-forsaken sword out of my chest,” Sylus growls, nearly feral as the last of his patience snaps. You dissolve into a fit of squeals as Sylus effortlessly flips you under him, his hands cupping the back of your head and your lower back protectively as your body hits the plush meadow grass. 

“And I can’t wait a moment longer.”

He wastes absolutely no time in bringing your lips to his once more, swallowing your moans and replacing them with his own heated breath. Your hands claw at any part of Sylus they can reach, nails leaving behind a red trail of passion that makes him groan with excitement. 

Possessed with the need for more, you wrap your thighs around his waist, using your legs to cage him against you. Sylus’s grip in your hair tightens as he pulls away, a string of saliva  connecting your feverishly panting lips. His other hand comes down to clutch your thigh, his fingers crawling under your dress. 

“Y/N. Do you know what you’re doing?” he pants, chest heaving, pupils blown with a lust so dangerous that your instincts are screaming at you to run. You bring your hands up to cup his face, mustering up all your courage.

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering as you trail your fingers down his chest, resting them right above his belt and letting your fingernails delicately stroke the hair that leads to his pelvis. 

A primal snarl erupts from Sylus’s chest at your blatant teasing, and in the blink of an eye you find your wrists bound above your head, his thick tail wrapped around them like a rope, his knee forcing your thighs apart.

“Just so you know, my love,” he leans in, face inches from yours, his arrogant smile hauntingly beautiful and terrifying all at once. He dips into the crook of your neck, heated breath washing over your mark, “Dragons are not known to show mercy.”

“I can handle it, Sylus,” you retort defiantly, though your trembling voice almost betrays you. Sylus only chuckles, his eyes glinting wildly at you, swirling with the darkness of all the things he wants to do to you.

“That’s my girl.” 

You’re unable to speak further, crying out when Sylus’s fingers, that’d found their way under the skirt of your dress, demandingly cup your leaking sex, his lips latching onto the burning mark on your shoulder once more.

His tongue on your neck alone is enough to have you writhing under him, begging and pleading for more. The pleasure is so overwhelmingly blinding that your eyes are squeezed shut, body convulsing involuntarily to even his gentlest touches. You’d surmise that it must’ve had something to do with what he’d said about your fate bonded souls, that made your body react so violently to his. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t let you ponder it further, his finger dipping in between your dripping core to snap your attention back to him. 

“Are you still with me, sweetheart?” he coos, brushing his middle finger up and down your weeping slit, careful to only brush against you with his calloused skin, keeping his claws tucked away. You glare up at him, weakly slapping his forearm that was wedged between your shaking thighs. You open your mouth to snark at him, but Sylus uses that moment to stroke your clit with the pointed edge of his talon. 

“Sylus!” you cry, halfway between a moan and a scream, “Ahhngh–p-please!”

“Mmm? What’s that?” Sylus murmurs, twitching his fingers to ever-so-slightly caress your aching clit with his claws. “Begging for more already?”

Your back lifts off the ground, the feeling of his fingers on your cunt so sharp and dizzying that your mind is caught between wanting to squirm away but needing to chase more. But it seems your body knows exactly what it wants, arching further into his hand, forcing his fingers further into you.

Your hands come up to grasp the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair and gently stroking the base of his jagged ebony horns. Sylus freezes, his jaw tightening, a choked grunt escaping him, despite how badly he tries to hold it back. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Sylus?” you whisper incredulously, your fingers pausing, “Does that hurt?”

Sylus doesn’t answer, his breath coming out in shallow and needy pants, eyes shut as he hovers above you. His fingers have stilled, though still between your folds. Your worry dissipates when your eyes drift down, trailing down his trembling abdomen, all the way to the lump in his lap that ruts desperately against your thigh.

It’s then you realize that your formidable dragon does indeed have a weakness. 

How adorable.

So with Sylus’s finger still parting your soaked lips, you use one hand to tenderly grab one of his horns, the other hand coming down to palm his bulge. His reaction makes you bite your lip with satisfaction, as his knees nearly buckle, still hovering above you, and his eyes filling with a volatile hunger. 

“You never learn do you?” he bites out, but he doesn’t pull away, his body only leaning further into your touch. His head nuzzles ever so slightly into your fingers that are still intertwined into his hair, stroking his horns.

“I would say I’m faring quite well, wouldn’t you agree?” you croon, emboldened by the way his hips thrust down into your open palm, even if only imperceptibly. 

At your adorably bold words, Sylus smirks at you, head cocked in amusement. His red eyes glimmer, a thick cloud of predatory desire swirling in the pools of garnet.

“You shouldn’t taunt a dragon, my love.”

You shriek when Sylus’s finger enters you, claw and all. You’re so wet that the brief sting of his lethal talon only serves to intensify the overwhelming waves of ecstasy he’s so deliberate in giving you. His finger moves so intentionally inside you, careful to only use the tip of his claw in ways that will have you clenching him for more. 

Sylus swears under his breath as he watches the way you writhe against the ruby flora, his erection growing unbearably painful and wet within the constraints of his pants. 

Dragons may not have the ability to recognize beauty. But as you clung to him, nails digging into his skin, sweet voice only capable of calling out for him, your wide eyes fluttering open and shut in overwhelming ecstasy…

Sylus knew there was nothing more beautiful in this world.

“Sy-Sylus,” you cry, “It’s t-too much. C-can’t–!” The dangerous feeling of his claws inside you is starting to make you delirious, your head dizzy with the need to come undone all over his fingers. The foreign pressure in your abdomen scares you into trying to scamper away from his hand, finger flicking inside your constricting walls

“Hm? Don’t you trust me sweetheart? I know exactly how much my little dragoness can take,” he murmurs gruffly, his thumb pressing harder into you. It seems Sylus knows exactly what he’s doing to you, because his tail wraps firmly around your waist, locking you in place, demanding you receive every bit of him. 

“You can take another, hm?” he asks, but his tone all but commands it. 

Your eyes widen; honestly you don’t think you can. Just one of his fingers has you feeling like you might pass out from the unfamiliar feelings of pleasure. Just one of his fingers has you feeling so full you might combust. 

He’s on his knees between your legs now–the juxtaposition of such a formidable being kneeling before, pleading for your pleasure, makes your body clench with even more anticipation.

“D-don’t know if I ca-aan,” you whimper brokenly, body still pathetically arching into his hands, chasing an ecstasy you don’t even know if you can handle. 

Sylus tuts gently, “Tch–you can. I need to stretch you out here before anything else can happen.”

You shiver at his words, trusting the foreboding warning wholeheartedly. Sylus was a dragon, after all, and you had no doubt he would be well-endowed, like everything else about him. Probably much more than your poor human body would be able to take. 

And the thought of that alone makes you crave him like nothing before.

So you nod slowly, and Sylus smiles, the pride evident in his eyes. 

“Good girl.”

Sylus tips your chin up towards him with the tip of his claw, capturing your lips into a kiss that steals your breath away. At the same time, he slips another finger into you.

He swallows your cries, and your fingers frantically grab hold of the grass around you, tearing and shredding at the green blades. If it weren’t for his tail wrapped around your waist, holding you in place, you’d be thrashing wildly, the ecstasy of his two fingers and claws inside your plush walls nearly unbearable. 

Sylus’s nips at your lips, before his tongue replaces them and stakes claim to every inch of your mouth. He groans into you, using his spare hand to palm his painful erection, still restrained in the confines of his pants. When he pulls away, saliva dribbles down your chin, his lips trailing kisses down your jaw and to the shell of your ear.

“So tight around just my fingers,” Sylus seethes hungrily, his hand moving faster now, breath coming out shallow and hot against your ear, “I’m the only one that’s ever been here, hm?”

He curls his fingers inside you, his claws grazing just slightly against the spongy surface of your walls, demanding a verbal response from you. His voice drips with a possessive intensity that makes your entire body throb. 

“Of course,” you whine, slightly embarrassed as your body arches up to meet his hand's ministrations, close to coming undone, “Wh-When would I have…at the Sanctuary…?” 

A deep and satisfied rumble of satisfaction comes from Sylus’s chest, as he buries his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. Almost like a purr.

“Mine.”

With two of his fingers scissoring in and out of you, stretching you out to your max, you quickly feel like you’re about to absolutely burst, the edges of your vision turning white, stars clouding your sight. 

“Ngghnh–Syluus…” you slur, your eyes watering, slightly terrified, “C-can’t anymore. Feels like m’gonna explode–!”

Sylus growls excitedly, fingers moving more insistently, literally trying to pull the orgasm out of you. The sounds of his palm slapping against dripping pussy grow louder and louder, all your senses overwhelmed until you’re on the verge of losing consciousness to it all.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Sylus praises, his canines at your earlobes, his own voice tinged with a primal hunger that’s barely held back by a thin string of restraint, “Cum for me, just like that.”

Though his words are simple, there’s an underlying command that lies just beneath the surface. Sylus would never stoop as low as to beg for anything, dragons were incredibly prideful beings after all, but more than anything he needed to see you cum, right now–for the very first time. Something he’d imagined more times he’d care to admit, on the many late nights you’d shared looking up at the moon after a journey of ravaging and plundering treasures. 

So instead of begging, Sylus sinks his teeth into the brand on your shoulder, once again laying his claim on you. Your sweet taste fills his mouth and he can’t stop the muffled moan that escapes him, devouring you to his absolute content, fingers never faltering once. 

Your eyes roll into your head at the indescribable sensation of pain and pleasure that surge from your neck, the shockwaves connecting with the same spasms of ecstasy that emanate from his fingers buried in your cunt. 

“Sy-Sylus—! Ngh–It’s c-coming!” you can’t stop yourself from screaming unabashedly, though it didn’t matter as Sylus made sure there wouldn’t be anyone for miles and miles, for this very reason. 

He doesn’t respond, alternating between biting and licking affectionately–aggressively–at the place he had marked you as his. His tail tightens around you, making you feel so deliciously suffocated, in the best ways. Making it feel like your very life depended on him.

Your next breath of air, your unrelenting pleasure, your soul. 

Sylus, Sylus, Sylus. 

With a strangled cry of his name, you feel the foreign sensation of a tension cord snapping in your gut, followed by a warm gush of mind numbing euphoria that consumes your entire quivering body.

Sylus swears under his breath, his fingers slowing but not stopping, helping you ride out the lasting waves of your very first orgasm. He releases your tender skin from his teeth, his hot breath blowing against you. His claws capture your chin between them, gently pulling your head back down to meet his eyeline. 

“Look at the mess you’ve made, Y/N,” Sylus hums, slipping his fingers out of you and lifting them so you can clearly see the way they’re dripping with something clear and wet. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“It’s not m’fault,” your voice comes out annoyingly shaky, still recovering from the earth-shattering experience. You swat his hands away weakly, “Stop. S’embarrassing.” 

Sylus chuckles, letting you push his hands back towards him. But he tenses suddenly, the thick muscles of his arms locking. The planes of his sharp jaw twinge, his entire body rigid, like he’d just been struck by lightning. 

“Sylus?” you whisper, sitting up and cupping his cheek into your palm, “What’s wrong?”

Sylus’s eyes are locked onto his fingers, his nostrils twitching. You’re mortified when Sylus brings his fingers to his face, his movements almost trancelike. 

“Don’t do that,” you protest, eyes wide, moving to grab his wrist. But Sylus dodges you easily, swiftly removing his arm from your grasp, the smell of you on his fingers intoxicating him to the point of madness. The sheer primal hunger in his blood-red eyes is so far away, you almost don’t recognize him. 

You’re acutely aware that you’re currently no more than a little rabbit trapped in a lion’s den. If it weren’t for the way his tail still wrapped around your waist so tenderly, you’d think he was the same Fiend that nearly lost himself and killed you that day. 

Sylus doesn’t speak, his chest heaving erratically as he brings his fingers up to his lips, tongue catching every rivulet of your slick. His pupils dilate, locked onto you, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the carmine pools, his primal instincts nearly taking control. One thing swims to the surface above them all. 

Hunger.

In a fraction of a second, you find yourself pinned to the grassy floor again, your head thudding to the ground against Sylus’s protective hand. Your wrists are bound above your head, with one of your thighs held open by Sylus’s tail and the other with his knee. His lips are everywhere, first at your neck, then down your shoulder, lingering at your mark, then trailing down your collar, to your breasts. 

“Mm–ngh! Sylus?” you can hardly speak as he lingers at the swell of your chest, “What are you doing?” 

“I can taste you,” he hisses, reaching your naval. You can vaguely recall the conversation you’d had with him awhile back–that dragons couldn’t understand a song’s melody or see the beauty in patterns.

Taste the flavors in food.

“More,” is all he’s capable of biting out, before prying your thighs apart. Of course, Sylus had no idea what it meant for something to taste sweet, how the burgundy jewels of the pomegranates you loved so much tasted. But if he had to take a guess…

They’d be nothing compared to the honey he had found between your legs. 

“But–I thought dragons c-couldn’t…ah–!” you trail incredulously, yelping as Sylus hooks one of his arms under your knees, sweeping you briefly off the ground so he can yank your skirt off in one swift motion. 

You’re left in only your drenched undergarments, skirt thrown somewhere to the side as Sylus resumes his relentless journey into your inner thighs, leaving a trail of angry hickeys in his wake. 

“We can’t,” Sylus pants into you, suckling on the soft plush of your thighs, eyeing the glistening folds of your cunt that peek through your sodden panties like his next prey. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath against your core, and it only makes you wetter. 

“But apparently I can taste this.”

The moan you let out is more beautiful than any melody you could ever sing for him, as his mouth closes over your clit, tongue wedging between your slicked lips.

“W-Wait Sylus, m’sensitive!” you protest, still coming down from the way he’d just made your body explode minutes earlier, your core quivering against the heavy demand of his lips. But as you sit up on your elbows and peer down at the silver-haired dragon between your legs, taking one look at Sylus, you know there is absolutely no getting through to him. 

Sylus has his mouth latched onto you, like he’s trying to drink your essence right from the source. His nose is buried right beneath your clit, every slightest movement causing the strong ridges to brush against the taut bundle of nerves, making it difficult for you to think straight.

You try to sit up further, but Sylus’s large palm comes up to flatten against your stomach, forcing you back down. He looks up at you, eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed, practically glaring at you.

“Don’t deny me of this,” he growls pleadingly, the sheer need in his voice making your toes curl against the grass.

The strength of his hand has you flopping back down, your body already succumbing to Sylus, yet again. You want to curse your traitorous body as it grinds into his greedy mouth, your mind battling your body’s instinct to chase the feelings that only Sylus can seem to give you. 

Why not just give in? That’s what Sylus had been teaching you, right? 

Live freely and die without regrets.

You grab two fistfulls of Sylus’s soft silver hair, pulling him impossibly closer to the apex of your thighs, shivering as he moans into you. His thick arms wrap around your thighs, holding on greedily, claws digging in.

“I should punish you for keeping this from me,” Sylus pants, pulling away for a brief second, giving you a pointed smirk. He uses his thumb to wipe the sheen of your arousal from his bottom lip.

“You can’t always get what you want Sylus. Sometimes you have to work for it,” you quip breathlessly, reeling from the sudden lack of his warm and wet tongue. 

Sylus chuckles, dark and rich. The dangerous glint in his ruby eyes is one that is all too familiar to you. Your skin crawls, pebbling with goosebumps, and before you can scamper away from him, his fingers come down with a resounding wet ‘smack’ against your unsuspecting cunt.

“Sy-Sylus!” you cry, halfway between a screech and a moan, your body convulsing into a painful arch as it reaches up to meet his palm. Sylus uses that moment to hook his other hand under your back, lifting your body up with one arm, and hoisting you into the air.

You flail as he swings you around, pulling at his hair until you grasp his horns. Sylus hisses, and you find yourself back on the soft grass matted floor. But this time you’re on your knees, straddling Sylus’s face.

“Sylu–ngh!” your eyes widen when his tongue licks at your slit, “P-Please! This is embari-ngh-sing!” It’s impossible to get your words out coherently when his tongue is moving so insistently, trying to drain every drop of your essence.

He digs his claws into the tops of your thighs, trying to pull you down, despite the way you fight to keep yourself propped up on your heels.

“Don’t resist,” he tuts, his voice muffled and rough, “Sit, love.”

”No!” you protest petulantly, sobbing in ecstasy as he sucks down hard on your clit, as if punishing you for your disobedience, “I’m heavy. Don’t wanna squash you.”

“Do you truly think so little of me?” he scoffs, positively offended, his breath warm against your core, “Sit. Now.”

You bite your lip in uncertainty as you stay hovering above him. Sylus remains patient, indulging himself instead by sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your inner thighs. You tremble, nearly doubling over as he suckles on your leg, biting a trail of flowery bruises leading up to your core.

You remain stubbornly, but shakingly, upright. Sylus sighs, losing his patience completely and yanking you down by your thighs, leaving you with no choice but to completely fall onto his waiting mouth.

Your eyes roll back, knees buckling entirely, when Sylus’s tongue enters you, stretching you out over his overeager lips. Your entire body nearly gives out, as you fall forward, your hands barely coming out in time to catch you before you collide with the meadow floor.

But when your palms are supposed to meet the grassy floor, Sylus catches them instead, your fingers intertwining desperately. The tips of his claws stroke your burning skin, terribly soothing compared to the way his tongue was ravishing you so filthily.

Your body reacts to him so readily, your hips starting to grind down almost instinctively, much to Sylus’s satisfaction. His cock twitches, heart nearly pounding through the veins that bulge along the sides, at the idea of you using him for yourself. He hums in pleasure, pressing a teasing kiss to your clit and whispering, “That’s it sweetheart, take what you want from me.”

His words make you squirm. Your hands card through Sylus’s soft silver locks, grabbing hold of his ebony horns for leverage. Sylus growls at your core, the vibrations of his low rumble making you writhe and grind harder onto his lips, your body being pushed toward another explosive release. 

“Hah, c-can’t anymore!” you cry, gripping his horns tighter, riding his face for dear life. Sylus doesn’t speak, but his enthusiastic tongue wordlessly conveys his words for him.

You might not be able to, but you will.

Your thighs cling to him, hips rolling into him with wild abandon. Everything about him, his honeyed words, his expert tongue, his possessive fingers make your body desperate for more, to take everything it wants. You’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t notice the way Sylus is likewise losing his mind beneath you. 

The way you grip his unbearably sensitive horns makes him jerk with need, the taste of your arousal a never ending drug on his tongue. Above all, the way you rode him, the way your body sought exactly what it desired, the way you surrendered to desire, to him, in this moment. 

You truly were the other half of his soul.  

“O-Oh go–od Sylus!” you moan brokenly, your voice hoarse from the incessant cries, bordering on screams, for him. Your thumbs dig into where his horns meet his scalp, your chest heaving violently as you try to stay upright on his tongue, coming undone across his eagerly waiting lips.

Sylus growls in relief, his enthusiasm bordering on obsession. His tongue laps up every honeyed drop, savoring a taste he knew he’d become all too addicted to. Luckily for him, he’d have you for the rest of eternity. And he fully intended on tasting you, devouring you, every day of his life. 

As you start to climb off his face, Sylus grabs you before you can crawl onto the floor, away from him. He carries you as delicately as he would the blooming daturas that surround you, laying you before him, settling between your parted thighs. 

“Sylus,” you murmur breathlessly, looking up at him. The waning sun peeks out behind his head, the sky a sunset sorbet that is beginning to melt into the indigo of approaching night. With the fading sun behind him, he is an utterly devastating sight for sore eyes. 

You loop your arms around his neck, dragging him down to you. He grunts, letting himself be pulled down to you, a ghost of a smile on his kiss bitten lips.

“I want…” you murmur hoarsely, trailing off as you let your fingers fall, tracing the muscles of his chest, drifting further south until they are grazing the defined contours of his abdomen. 

Sylus’s fingers grasp your chin, bringing your eyes back up, where you meet his fiery gaze. His thumb presses into your bottom lip, prying your mouth open gently. 

“Go on, my dove,” he hums, his voice practically a purr as he presses the lethal tip of his claw onto your tongue, “Tell me what it is you want.”

You open your lips to speak but between your sore throat, parched from your incessant moans, and the foreign desire still growing in both your gut and your heart, you were far too ashamed to speak further. But with the way Sylus was staring at you, his right eye flickering dangerously, you knew he could see right into your soul. 

Sylus’s lips turn up into an absolute shit-eating smirk, his beautiful deep garnet irises gleaming with a rich amusement. 

“Can’t speak anymore?” he chuckles amusedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“That’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a snarl that’s simultaneously dangerously edged yet velveteen. The ends of his claws trace your pulse as his fingers venture down, making your breath hitch. You shiver, giddy at the idea that those very talons, that were capable of such destruction, were now caressing you with so much tender passion.

“All you’ll need to be able to say is Sylus, hm?”

You light absolutely ablaze at his filthy words, your stomach churning in anticipation at what you know is coming. What you want more than anything you’ve ever known. 

His fingers, that’d found their way to the swell of your chest, shred the delicate straps of your corset with the slightest flick of his claws. You squeal as your naked body is exposed to the elements, writhing as the wind nips at your bare skin.

“Hey!” you protest hoarsely, sitting up, your arms darting to wrap around your chest, “Was that really necessary?!” But of course, Sylus is far quicker than you. He catches your wrists easily, holding them in his hands, leaving you beautifully exposed before his hungry eyes.

“No,” he smirks cheekily, face coming inches from yours, his breath fanning across your lips. You glare at him in annoyance, which only makes his grin widen.

“Now it’s my turn to take what I want,” he murmurs, pushing you flat against the grass. With your hands still restrained against his palm, he kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of claiming bruises along the way. 

“Beautiful. The truest treasure,” he rasps between kisses. He lingers on the mark on your shoulder, not being able to help but to indulge himself there.

A stream of unabashed moans escape your lips as Sylus bites down, hard. So hard you think he might draw blood. His canines are so close to your pulse; your instincts scream at you to flee, but your soul forces you to stay. 

Pain and pleasure, it was all the same. If Sylus was giving it, you wanted it.

This is the man fate had destined for you. Your dragon.

And you fully intended to show him that as well. 

With his head at your shoulder, his own neck exposed to you, you couldn’t help but press your lips into his pulse. Sylus tenses in surprise, unwittingly sensitive, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, his body bucks into yours, his pelvis pressing into you, as if desperately seeking something from you.  

“You never learn do you, my little sparrow?” he bites out, his voice rough and raspy. Despite his words, he doesn’t pull away in the slightest. You smile into his neck and gently sink your teeth into his soft skin, desperate to mark him in the same way he’d marked you.

Sylus's breath grows erratic against you, his chest heaving unsteadily. His hands come up to hold you possessively against him, his powerful tail coils around your arched waist, like you might disappear at any second. Your fingers thread into his hair, hooking onto his horns again, as you continue to kiss into his neck. 

But suddenly, Sylus is yanking himself away from you, his tail prying you off of him. 

“Too much?” you mumble apologetically as you watch him straighten up, waiting for him to settle back down. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he props himself onto his knees, focussed and dangerous. Like a predator before the hunt. 

“No. It’s not enough.”

With that, he’s undoing the buckle of his belt, his darkened eyes never leaving yours. You can’t help but bite your lip as you watch the bulging veins of his forearms, his hand reaching into his undone pants. Sylus looks devastatingly handsome as he undresses himself before you, eyeing you like his next meal. 

You don’t get to see him pull himself out before Sylus is back on you, his lips fervently attacking yours. You don’t know what’s changed, because the Sylus that’s kissing you right now has completely thrown restraint to the wind, like he’s trying to claim every fiber of your being with this one kiss.

His body is so imposing atop yours that, even naked, you feel nothing but warm and safe in the evening breeze. He’s so close, you can feel his eyelashes on your cheek. But you can’t stop pulling him closer, moaning in satisfaction when he holds you bruisingly tighter. 

Still, you want more of him.

Your hand inches down to grasp his manhood in your fingers, pulling away from the kiss with a choke. Being a dragon, you had no doubt that Sylus would be larger than what you’d been told was average from the other women at the Sanctuary. As soon as your fingers make contact, Sylus’s tail is roped around your wrist, the thick scales digging into your burning skin, his eyes filled with a volatile hunger. 

He doesn’t pull you away. His tail wrapped around your wrist seems to be more of a silent warning.

If you continue, there’s no going back.

Sylus’s eyes follow you carefully, his right eye shining as he seems to read your every whim and wonder. Every doubt, every fear, every fantasy. 

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he coos reassuringly, reading your mind like the back of his hand, thumb catching a stray tear you hadn’t even known had fallen, “I’ve more than prepared you.”

You eye him skeptically, taking a deep breath, peering down at where your bodies are firmly pressed together. Your breath hitches at how pathetically small your hand looks wrapped around him, his erection as beautiful as it was terrifying.

How many fingers had you been able to take earlier? Two?

You were fucked. Literally. 

“Y/N,” Sylus calls, his voice taking on a tender warmth that you rarely heard from him, clearly able to read your nervousness. 

He grips your chip and tilts your face back up to meet his eyes. Hoisting you up by your waist, he sets you on his lap so that you’re straddling him, wrapping your legs around his hips. His cock stands proudly, arousal smearing all over your bare navel, brushing against your clit as he presses you so deeply into his body that it rests between your leaking folds. Fitting like a puzzle piece. 

“I have waited over a millennium for this. For you. I can wait a millennium more, until you’re ready.”

Your body immediately reacts to his profoundly heartfelt words, your chest constricting and your core fluttering. It’s not hard to decide what you want, right then and there.

“I trust you, Sylus,” you say firmly, voice still raspy and hoarse, “I want you. Please.”

Sylus curses under his breath. One forearm wraps around your ass, lifting you and his other hand angling himself so that his thick leaking head is nudging right at your entrance, begging to be inside you. You writhe at the friction, your hips rocking onto him on instinct. 

The silver haired man growls, arms tightening around you like a vice, “You drive me insane, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

At long last, he presses himself into you. Crying out, your nails dig into his shoulders, sure to break skin. The discomfort was immeasurable, your body wildly confused by the intense pain but the strange feeling of intimacy. 

“I don’t think I can–I can’t!” your hips locking, eyes welling with tears. The stretch was beyond anything you could have ever fathomed, and you were almost sure he would break you.

“You can, you can,” he soothes, almost desperately, like he was terrified you might ask him to stop. Every muscle in his body was locked and tense as he fought the urge to ram right into you, ravaging you like every instinct was telling him to do. 

With even just the tip barely inside, he knew this was far too dangerous. The feeling of you wrapped around him was far too addicting, one of few things that threatened to make him lose all humanity to the untamed dragon blood flowing through his veins. 

You always were his one weakness. 

The urgency, the desperation, in his voice makes your tummy flutter, your body tightening in response to him.

Sylus hisses, his tail constricting around your waist, claws digging into the fat of your hips, “Don’t tighten up. Not if you want me to be gentle.”

“Am I?” you moan as he shifts, sinking slightly more into you, “M’sorry Sy. D-didn't mean to.”

A low rumble ripples from his chest as he does his best not to slam you down the rest of the way down onto the hilt of his cock. Which was nearly impossible because every time he moved at all, he swore your pussy was trying to choke him out. 

“Is it all the way in yet?” you whisper, fighting to keep your voice level. You had never felt more full in your life, your gut on the verge of splitting. The pain and since dulled into a somewhat bearable ache, but it was by no means comfortable. 

“Half way, love,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

Your eyes widen in shock, “W-What?!” You look down between your bodies, and sure enough, Sylus was still hoisting you halfway above his impossibly massive member. There’s a faint smear of red across the sheen of your combined arousals. Your blood. 

Before you can speak further, Sylus presses his lips to yours, stealing your breath as his own. He swallows your moans, his tongue and cock simultaneously sinking further into you.

A string of saliva connects your lips when he pulls away, his fingers tenderly holding your chin, his darkened scarlet eyes piercing into yours. His right eye glimmers with a dangerous edge. 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he rasps, still hanging onto his last thread of his control, “You can take it all, can’t you? Perfect little mate.”

Your chest and core simultaneously flutters at his words and you’re fueled with a newfound confidence and an overwhelming wave of lust. It really seemed that Sylus knew exactly what to say to you to have you wanting more. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you roll your hips, trying to inch your own way down him, practically able to feel his pulsing veins throbbing against your gummy walls. The pain from the stretch was still there, but Sylus had prepped you so thoroughly that it was beginning to be difficult to feel anything but good.

“I can take more Sylus,” you murmur into his ear, pressing a wet kiss into his throbbing pulse, “I want more.”

An animalistic snarl rips out from deep within Sylus’s chest. His fingers squeeze literally bruises into your hips as he whispers back into your ear, breath hot and heavy.

“Yeah? That’s my girl,” he rasps, trying to contain his hunger, before lowering you the rest of the onto his cock, seating you entirely on his lap. 

He gives you a second to adjust, licking the tears that had started to stream down your cheek. It quickly feels unnatural, and you’re desperate for some friction, the pressure of him at your cervix too intense. 

“Ngh–Sy-Sylus,” you moan, “Please, move–do something.”

Sylus twitches inside you, your words fueling him with the desire to breed you full of him, “You’re playing with fire, my little dragon.” 

He wraps his thick arms around your body and begins to bounce you up and down on his lap, trying to keep a slow and gentle rhythm, doing his best to ensure you’d be in as little pain as possible.

Of course it didn’t matter, with his sheer size alone, pain was inevitable.

But so was pleasure.

Your body had begun reacting to Sylus all on its own, your hips rolling into Sylus’s sculpted abdomen, trying to pull him deeper into your saccharine heat. 

“Ngh–haah…Sy-Sylus!” you splutter, fingers clawing deep red welts into the ropes of muscles on his back, “Feels…”

His tail tightens around your waist, the tip stroking along your thigh, almost affectionately. His pace grows increasingly more vigorous, more excited, as he watches your face contort in different phases of pain and pleasure, “You feel incredible.”

His words, the feral rasp in his voice, so animalistically raw and primal, makes your entire body clench with excitement. And Sylus can feel all of it, every quiver, every twitch.

“You’re so damn tight,” he bites out, rutting up into you, “Trying to break me?”

“You’re–ngh–s’dramatic,” you tease, weaving your fingers through his hair and stroking his horns. 

Sylus’s tail grips you, his body tensing as you gently provoke the sensitive ebony spurs. You can swear his rhythm falters, but he composes himself instantly. The rough scales lining his muscular tail sink into your skin, leaving beautiful little crescents behind.

“Am I now?” Sylus smirks, his tone warning you that you’ve used up all his mercy. Your cries amplify as Sylus’s intensity picks up, his pelvis slamming into your cheeks. You’re so caught up in the borderline violent thrusts that you don’t notice when Sylus’s head dips down, his lips latching onto your breast.

“Oh Gods,” your voice is hoarse and broken with desire, nearly drowned out by the wet slaps of his body pounding into yours. On the other hand, Sylus’s mouth is deceptively tender, suckling so gently, teeth grazing so intentionally. His coarse fingers pinch the nipple that he can’t attend to with his tongue, all the while still driving himself deep into your gut.

His free hand comes down between your bodies, the slick that had smeared there coating his fingers as he finds your clit, sending your eyes into the back of your head. The valley echoes with a broken record of your combined cries of pleasure and the lewd sound of wet skin colliding.  

“Does every inch of you taste this damn exquisite?” Sylus demands breathlessly when he pulls away from your breasts. The way you felt wrapped around him was making it difficult to control his instincts, needing to remind himself that he needed to be careful with you.

“Hah…only t’you–! Only for you,” you can barely register the words coming out as your ears pound, your vision starting to blur as the same tension you’d felt twice earlier starts to build in again. 

A possessive growl erupts from Sylus’s chest, unable to contain his instincts. But the corners of his lips quirk, a pleased smile gracing his features. 

“Only for me, hm?” he licks a stripe from your neck to the mark on your shoulder making your entire body shudder.

Sylus’s talons dig into your thighs, now using both the strength of his thighs and arms to fuck you relentlessly onto him. Your back arches backward at the sheer force of his body and you use your palms to catch yourself on the ground behind you. Sylus’s tail steadies you, but at this angle he reaches a new depth inside of you, his impossibly thick cockhead roughly caressing a sensitive spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“O-Oh Gods, oh Go-ods! Sylus–!” you chant like a broken prayer, your lower half rolling into Sylus’s lap impulsively, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You use your hands that are planted on the ground behind you to give you leverage, just letting your body do whatever feels right, feels natural.

With every roll of your hips, your clit brushes against the silvery mat of wet hair painting Sylus’s pelvis, making your eyes gloss over with a fucked out bliss that has Sylus nearly coming undone himself.

His eyebrows furrow, red eyes swirling with shadows as he watches you atop his cock, his mate. The distinct outline of him strains against your delicate skin every time he thrusts into you, bulging against your naval. 

Did you have any idea how insane you were driving him right now?

He hooks his hand behind your waist, just one palm enough to cup the small of your back and pull you back to him. He pulls you flush to his body, your bare chest pressed against his, your hearts pounding against one another.

“I’m a selfish man, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear, fighting to not explode into your gummy walls. 

“S’okay,” you cup his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss, “I love that about you. I love you.”

Sylus’s tail tenses, still wrapped possessively around you, your proclamation making him snap. Before you know what’s happening, you find yourself being thrown back onto the grassy floor, Sylus’s hands cupping the back of your head as he sets you on the ground. Somehow, he still finds a way to keep himself snug inside you, unwilling to pull away for even a split second.

“Sylus!” you cry out, half in surprise, half in excitement, as his heavy body presses down onto you, his lips less than an inch from yours, cock nearly in your throat.

“Sweetheart,” he groans, voice coming out unusually…frenzied. 

He truly was a selfish man, in every sense of the word.

“You can take another for me, right?”

“Another?” you squeak when he licks your cheek playfully, tenderly. 

“I’m pretty sure I can…cum–” you flush at the word, still slightly reserved with your newfound sexuality, “–again.”

Sylus chuckles huskily, pressing a soft kiss into your lips, “That’s not what I meant.”

Though he keeps his voice level, he couldn’t keep his heart from hammering erratically in his chest. You felt so indescribably perfect wrapped around him, he couldn't even fathom that it could get better than this.  

You were everything he imagined, and then some. 

You groan when he shifts to his knees, repositioning himself. Sylus moves his hand to grab the base of his length, and you’re about to protest, not wanting him to pull himself out of you. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, you feel the odd sensation of something else poking at where he had already had you completely full with his ridiculously thick cock. Something that was grinding against your clit, like he would with his thumb, toying with you as if also trying to get inside you. Something equally, if not more, massive than what was already nestled inside of you. 

There was no way he thought he could possibly fit more inside you.

With your eyes wide, you shakily, address the silver haired man hovering above you, “H-How did I not see that you have t-two?!”

Sylus throws his head back with a breathless laugh, his entire body shaking. He strokes your cheek with the tip of his ebony claws, staring wryly at you with his sparkling crimson eyes.

“The same way I can hide my wings.”

He strokes the leaking tip of his second cock along your clit, making you shiver. You can’t deny how good it feels, and how exhilarating the thought of it is. The way he looks at you, desperate, feral, and with all the intensity a hunter would stare at its prey. 

It makes it impossible for you to think coherently, the lust overpowering all sensibility.

“You can take it,” he coos encouragingly, using his second tip to smear your combined slick around your taut opening, as if preparing you to take him. 

“You could–ngh– barely get one in, what makes you think I’ll be able to take two–!?” you writhe, forcing the words out as Sylus continues to slowly rock into you.

Your squirming only makes you tighten further on Sylus, working him up further. His second cock had hardened to the point of pain, no matter how firmly he stroked it. It needed you, and nothing else could satisfy him. 

The desire on Sylus’s face, on his body, is palpable. You can see the beads of sweat gliding down his sculpted face as he restrains himself, his chest heaving as he tries to lock his instincts away, a dark storm of frustration in his eyes. 

“Oo-kay, I’ll try,” you murmur, hoping to the Gods you’ll live to see another day. Sylus’s carmine eyes light up, a proud grin donning his devilishly handsome features. 

“Good girl.”

He forcefully pounds against you, still only letting his second cock grind against your clit. Every thrust causes it to glide against you, rubbing against the sensitive bud, like he was fucking the lips of your cunt with it.

Your fingers claw at the ground as the anticipation boils, waiting for him to just put it in. 

“Sy–ngah–just do it alr–”

He presses his thumb into your lips, interrupting the beginnings of your frantic rambles.

“Breathe out.”

Just as Sylus’s hips are about to snap against your cheeks again, you feel him finally push himself into you. 

Your eyes go wide, mouth agape, as he stretches you until you fear you may actually pass out. You’re so wet that it doesn’t take much to coax it through the initial stretch. But it still hurts, far worse than when he’d initially penetrated you. 

However there is also far more pleasure than before. The two sensations tug at one another, making your mind reel with tumultuous chaos. A tormenting mixture of ecstasy and torment, threatening to shatter your mind.

“S-Sylus, I-I can’t, s’not gonna fit,” you whimper when the stretch becomes too much. Peering down, you see that you’d taken the entire head of his second cock, and you don’t think you can take any more. 

Sylus groans, his eyes squeezed shut, a storm brewing within him. The feeling of your perfect cunt wrapped around both of his cocks was unlike anything he could have ever imagined, and he was at war with the feral part of himself that was threatening to break free and take you like he was in rut. 

“It will fit, my love,” he soothes tenderly, his fingers rubbing soft circles into your hips.

He bends down, taking your chin in his fingers to pull you in for a kiss. But before your lips meet, he whispers heatedly, eyes overcast with a swirl of inexplicable emotions.

“You were made for me, Y/N. Of course it’ll fit.”

His eyes flicker to your lips, before coming back to your eyes, silently asking for your okay before proceeding. As much as he wanted this, more than anything he wanted you to want it too. 

Your heart swells, core fluttering at his words. Sylus hisses when he feels your walls clenching against him, inadvertently sinking further into you.

Gasping, you pull him the rest of the way towards you, circling your arms around his neck, and pushing your lips onto his. You take that moment to arch into him, letting him push deeper into you, biting down on his lip as he sinks further to the hilt.

Sylus kisses you so fiercely that you don’t even notice that he’s fully inside you, both cockheads pressed as deep as they will possibly go. Just as he claims every inch of you with his tongue, his arousal coats every part of you, marking you from the inside.

He pulls away with a snarl, his entire chest shuddering, a visible sheen of sweat glistening on his muscled body, “Sweetheart, I need to move.”

You nod, eyelashes fluttering as you fight to keep your eyes open, “Mmngh–you can move, Sy. I-I want you to.”

Sylus’s eyes darken, his palm slamming down on the ground beside your head. He’s completely hovering over you now, his lower body pressed so deliciously into you. Like he owned you.

Laid out against the tapestry of blooming datura, you made his heart stutter, his right eye twinging with inexplicable desire. You were more magnificent than any work of art. After 1,600 years walking these lands, Sylus finally knew what beauty was. 

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, slowly pulling out of you before rolling his hips back into you. He’s so deep, stretching you so full, body so heavy on top of yours. You can’t feel anything but him, and it makes you want to come undone all over him again. That sensation in your gut, that you had become all too familiar with, had already built to a near bursting breaking point. 

“Soo deep–angh–s’fuuull,” you slur, graspingf his horns again, stroking them affectionately, letting the rough ebony edges ground you.

“Fuck,” Sylus curses sharply as you grope his sensitive horns, barely able to contain his own moans. His knees nearly buckle, using only his arms to keep him propped up over you. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to regain his composure.

His hips roll into you like the tides of the ocean, his pace smooth and rhythmic. There’s a filthy wet ‘smack!’ every time his pelvis hammers into you, the ecstasy your bodies create together makes you leak uncontrollably, even so tightly plugged up by both his lengths. 

“Feel me right here, love?” he grounds out, using one hand to press down firmly on the soft plush of your stomach. You squeal when you feel him pushing down on you, forcing your sensitive spots to clamp down on him. With two of his cocks inside you, there’s absolutely no space for that, the pleasure it brings you sharp and overwhelming. 

“Yes-yes—! Please!” you plead, hoping he’ll have mercy on you. He’s driving you closer and closer to another orgasm, and you don’t know if you’ll survive this one. 

Sylus can feel it too, the way your saccharine walls begin to squeeze him so sweetly, your beautiful starry eyes hazing over—too fucked out to focus, your clit hardened to a pebble against the slicked mat of silvery hair dusting his pelvis. 

With you like this under him, mercy is not something he’s interested in. 

In fact, Sylus had never felt like more of a beast than he did now. And the only thing he had an appetite for was you. The only thing that could sate his hunger was feeling you come undone so exquisitely for him again.

He plants one foot on the ground to give him more leverage, letting him thrust down into you more powerfully. Your thighs were spread so widely to accommodate him, your feet swinging wildly as he rolled his pelvis so deliciously into you, his entire body cascading like tidal waves.

“S-Sylus–ngah!” your relentless moans for him would be embarrassing if you weren’t so deep in the hole of lust, “Soo full–ngh–feel s’full–!”

“I know, love,” he purrs, “You’re so beautiful, with me inside you.” He softly strokes the bulge in your tummy, sending shivers down your arched spine, the sensation so otherworldly. 

He delicately, but firmly, grabs the back of your neck, his fingers long enough to enclose over your entire throat. Gently, he pulls you forward, forcing you to look down at where he’s palming your stomach.

“Taking me so damn well,” he growls, his fingers threading into your hair now, gripping with just enough tension to make you tremble with excitement. Your forehead knocks against his, his damp bangs fluttering against your eyes. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails clawing into the thick ropes of muscles there. 

“Mngh–Syluus, I can’t take much more. M’close again–!” 

His hand forces you to watch where he was literally rearranging your insides and has you teetering off the cliff of climax, hanging on for dear life. Sylus’s pace only quickens, his hips pounding into you with reckless abandon now, unable to stop himself, any previous gentleness long gone. 

As a Fiend who’d spent his entire life plundering the world of its treasures and riches, he’d come to know insatiable greed. Dragons inherently took and took, feeding off the gluttony of the human soul, unable to quench their own need to acquire. 

He’d spent a millennium acquiring the most exquisite jewels, extravagant weapons, rarest heirlooms–what he wanted, he took. And yet, every waking day was the hollow echo of a broken harmonium. 

But now, with your angelic little cunt wrapped so perfectly around both his cocks. Your nightingale voice that so often innocently serenaded him, moaning his name like a prayer, greedily begging for more. Your fluttering, doe eyes, glimmering back at him with an entire universe of emotions–desire, anticipation, greed, love.

Sylus realized he’d never known true desire. Not until he’d met you. Nothing he’d ever experienced compared to what it felt like now, to want you–to need you.

And he’d desire nothing, now and forevermore, if he had you. 

Sylus’s fiery breath fans across your lips, his hand holding the back of your head demandingly, voice raspy with an unyielding desire, “I can feel it, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t make me beg, hm?”

His heat fueled words, all but a demand, make you shake to your core. Your body’s perfect reactions to him only make Sylus more vigorous with need, growing impossibly harder inside you. One leaking tip brushes relentlessly against your g-spot, the other bullying into your cervix, damn near trying to find its way into your chest. 

“Sy-Sy–ngh–m’cumming–! Please–!” your neck is hinged back in an ear splitting cry, your hips arched so deeply into Sylus that your spine feels like it might snap. 

“Sh-shit–just like that,” Sylus grits, groaning as your cunt tries to wring him dry, “Just like that, sweet girl. Cum for me.”

Your body convulses, goosebumps littering your skin, as Sylus continues to fuck you through your orgasm, your vision blurring and tears seeping out from the corners of your eyes.You don’t know if it’s because you’ve cum three times already, or because he has you absolutely speared on both his massive erections, or maybe because he looks down at you with all the adoration you think one could hold for even the stars. But this orgasm is far more explosive than the previous ones, and it makes you scream into the night.

You release fiercely against Sylus’s body, the wet gush of release simultaneously erotic and strange. The muscles of your thighs trembled viciously. Your cries of complete and utter pleasure are strangled, your voice nearly gone now. Sylus is cooing sweetly into your ear, but you can't hear him through the blood pounding in your head, your eyes having a hard time staying focussed. 

You don’t even notice when Sylus shifts, now on his knees, his fingers grasping the plush of your hips. Your back now rests against the matted meadow floor, your vision filled with the sky that was slowly filling with stars. 

But your sight is incredibly shaky, Sylus’s grip on your hips bruising as he pulls your body into his relentlessly, still chasing his own release. 

Your senses slowly start to come back to you, the feeling of his cocks still rutting deeply into you sobering you up. The feeling was strange; it was by no means painful, but it was sharp and made you wince.

“Ungh, Sy–s-sensitive,” you whisper, your throat scratchy. Though his thrusts are rough, possessive, he’s somehow still careful with your body, making sure you’re not a complete ragdoll against his demanding pull. You crane your neck slightly and see that, during your momentary orgasmic state of incohesion, Sylus had placed his pants under your head, and what was left of your clothing under your naked back. 

The simple gesture makes your heart skip with inexplicable happiness as you gaze up at him, admittedly growing aroused again, watching him. 

His sweat matted silver bangs had been tousled back, as if he had run his fingers through them. Thick eyebrows, arched downward, darkening his already smoldering irises, watching you like you were the reason the sun rose every day. His entire body was layered in a thin sheen of sweat that made him appear as if he was chiseled from marble, like the sculptures you’d see in the Ivory City. 

“You know, dragons like to mate in the sky,” Sylus groans, a near ramble, delirious with desire, clearly near his own release. His tail flickers wildly behind him, and you use your calf to rub against it. He tenses with a strangled moan, snapping his hips particularly harshly into you. Your eyes roll back as he bruises against your cervix, your sensitivity at an all time high.

“Sylus!”

“One day, hm? Right now, there’s nothing I want more than to see you spread out amongst these flowers.”

Another series of desperate ruts that have you writhing at the intensity.

“We have all the time in the world.”

His honeyed vows have you keening, your body reacting viscerally. Sylus reels when you clamp down on him, doubling over with a strangled groan.

“Not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that,” he pants into the crook of your neck, chest heaving. You loosely wrap your weak arms around his neck, nipping at his earlobe, enjoying the way he flinches.

“Please,” you beg, knowing how much he loves your greed, “I want you to, Sylus.”

A rumbling growl emits from Sylus’s chest, still pressed against yours. Your brain is far too exhausted to register how quickly he moves, maneuvering your thighs until they’re pressed against your breasts.

“Yeah?” Sylus snarls, his entire body caging you in, thighs closed over yours. You swear you can hear your muscles groan in protest, not meant to be this flexible. He’s practically sitting on you, except he keeps most of his weight off of you. From this angle he reaches the deepest he’s been able to, locking you in a mating press that he’s determined to breed you full in. 

“You want me to cum in you, sweetheart?” he rasps, completely feral–too far gone. He’s ramming down into you now, using the strength of his thighs and gravity to knock the air out of your lungs, cocks reaching deep down your throat.

“Too-nghn–too deep!” You don’t know how it’s possible but you feel the coil in your core building again, and you’re certain you won’t survive it this time. It’s too fast, too sensitive, too taut.

Sylus groans, the sound of his pleasure making your mind spin. His rhythm stutters, and you swear you can feel him pulsing inside you, literal vibrations rocking your core. You’d like to think he was as close as you were, again.

“Needs t’be deep, love. If you’re going to give me an heir, hm?”

Your eyes widen at his words, heart skipping a beat. Sylus falters again, feeling you tighten at his words, before smirking crookedly at you.

“So damn tight. Does my sweet girl like that idea?” he croons, almost condescendingly, but threateningly serious.  

Your vision is blurred with euphoric tears, but you can clearly see Sylus’s enchanting eyes looking down at you as they had many times before. They were always intense, the carmine hues able to peer right into your soul. But the heat in them now, as he watched you writhing in ecstasy under him, would put a wildfire to shame. 

You look up at him through your dewy eyelashes, grasping his shoulders, and nod wordlessly, unbelievably aroused by his lewd words of passion.

Storm clouds swirled in his scarlet eyes and he leaned down impossibly closer to you, pressing your bodies tighter together, forcing himself deeper.

“You’re going to take my knot like a good little mate, hm?”

You weren’t entirely sure what that was, but the way Sylus said it just dripped with a possessive sensuality that made you want to submit to his every will. Your stomach flutters at the thought of it, and so you nod eagerly.

“Ungh–anything, Sy–! Anything for you.”

Sylus snarls, nearly baring his teeth, unable to contain the sheer primal joy he felt from your sinful words. He was already having a hard time keeping his instincts at bay with how you felt wrapped around him, underneath him, but now you were on the verge of making him snap entirely.

Did you have any idea what you were doing to him?

“The world needs more dragons, don’t you think?” he snarls, his hand pressing down roughly on your stomach where his two cocks threaten to erupt inside you. The implications of his hand cupping your stomach send you over the edge once more.

Gods, you’d be so beautiful carrying his brood. 

“C-Cumming Sylus!” you whine, voice pathetically broken, body spent beyond belief. Your nails drag through his shoulders, piercing his skin and spilling blood, as every nerve in your body lights ablaze under his touch.

Sylus sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your shoulder, needing to claim you as he pushed himself to the edge. Your cunt convulses viciously against him as you cum, the feeling of your perfect heat milking both his cocks pushing him to cum with you.

“F-Fuck, Y/N–!”

Sylus explodes in you with a strangled groan of your name, his release thick, plenty, and scalding. It sends a claiming heat from your core all the way to your fingertips, making you shiver as you shudder with the waves of your climax, crying repeatedly for him.

You feel like you might burst, your stomach swollen with not only his cocks nestled in you but the sheer amount of cum he was still spurting in you. If you weren’t so blissfully fucked out, it might’ve been a bizarre sight, your tummy bulging with the weight of his unending seed painting your walls cream. 

“Mine,” he groans into your neck, sinking himself back into your mark, still rocking into you, still spurting white into you. There’s far too much, leaking out of where he was still connected to you, rutting into you. 

It quickly becomes too much; you’re not sure if you’d become too raw or if you’d simply had enough, but a strange pressure begins to build. And soon that pressure becomes a stinging, painful stretch. 

“Sy-lus,” you whisper, tapping at his chest frantically, “W-Wait please. Something hurts.”

Sylus affectionately licks at the mark he’d branded you with, releasing your legs from the mating press he’d held you in. You whimper in relief when the tension in your hips finally releases. Sylus gently wraps your legs around his waist, but the growing pain between your thighs doesn’t subside.

“It’s my knot, love,” he growls, his voice gruff and gravely. His entire body trembles at the sensation of his knot swelling–filling you, the idea of his seed being stuffed deep inside you making it difficult for him to calm his raging instincts. 

His hand palms where your thighs meet the plush of your rear, kneading into your ass and gripping you closer to him. You instinctually squirm away, the stretch becoming unbearable. But you quickly realize that you physically can’t. You’re literally locked onto him. 

Sylus hisses, holding you in place, desperately trying to get you to stop moving.  

“Please, sweetheart.”

From the sweat dripping down his brow, his jaw clenched so sharply it could cut stone, you realized his knot must’ve been incredibly sensitive. If you weren’t the one getting stretched out onto it, you might’ve even teased him. 

“Just so big, t-too much,” you squeak as he swells further inside of you, not sure how much more you could take. You look down at where his abdomen is pressed into you, the area a pearly mess of your coalesced spend.

You could vaguely see that Sylus had in fact slipped one of his erections out of you, occluded by the sight of the other still engorged and locked inside you. You briefly wonder if the other one is also swelling with a knot. Had he pulled it out for your sake?

“How–nghah–how much more?” you pant, trying your best not to clench down. 

“Almost. You’re taking me so well, Y/N,” Sylus murmurs, deceptively sweet, when all he wanted to do was ram his second knot into you. The battle between his innate draconic instincts, wanting to claim you full force like a beast, and the dual need to protect and cherish you, the last bit of his soul that was untainted.

You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, burying your face into his neck. His scent invades your senses, and you can’t help but moan, lips latching onto his racing pulse. Sylus groans, fingers grasping the back of your head and pressing you deeper into his chest. His tail wraps around your waist again, needing to be closer to you, deeper in you.

“Look at you,” he groans breathily into your ear, the swelling finally seeming to finish, “Taking my entire knot, hm?”

With his entire knot wrapped in your perfect heavenly cunt, Sylus can’t help but start rocking into you again. He’d cum so thickly inside you that his knot actually begins to thrust ever so slightly, the friction sending his eyes reeling backward.

Your eyes blow open, wincing at the feeling of prickling overstimulation. But when you see him, you find yourself not wanting to tell him to stop. 

Sylus’s pearly white canines have dug into his kiss bitten lips, a rosy blush dusting his sharp cheeks. The emerging moonlight makes his argent hair even more ethereal, mussed back in an adorably messy way. His breath is heavy–desperate, face contorted in pure euphoria as he slowly thrusts into you again. 

When you look up at him, you catch him watching you, his eyes overcast by the furrow of his thick eyebrows. 

Reflected in the sea of searing vermillion, the adoration and worship burning brighter than the moon that illuminates a halo behind him, you see your soul reflected back at you. A soul that had been burned black, a puppet without a heart, consumed by revenge and contempt. 

Until a fiendish dragon had plucked her out of the Abyss, and breathed fire back into that very hollow vessel of hatred, illuminating her spirit golden with greed. 

That very greed not only saved your life, but showed you what it meant to be alive. 

You let him slowly fuck his knot into you, whimpering as he stretched you to the point of breaking. Oddly enough, you didn’t hate the feeling, even though it stung. In fact, your body seemed to crave it, crave his body claiming yours. 

“You feel so fucking incredible,” Sylus growls, his movements growing more and more insistent with every passing moment. From his gravelly voice you can tell he’s quickly losing control. Your eyes flutter upward, becoming overwhelmed, your poor body unable to take any more. 

“Syluus, no more,” you grip his forearm, voice weak. Sylus stills when he hears the genuine pain in your voice. His lips are instantly at your temple, pressing kisses into your damp skin.

“Apologies, my love. I got carried away.”

Sylus shifts, cradling you so that you’re now on top of him, his strong arms holding you protectively. His knot, still swollen, rests tightly inside you, plugging you full of his thick seed. You listen to the thrum of his heartbeat, the two of you laying there in a serene silence that nearly lulls you into sleep. 

“You are my fate,” he murmurs imperceptibly, pressing a soft kiss into the claim on your shoulder. His tail has found itself wrapped around your body again, the thick and cold scales digging pleasantly into your burning skin. 

“Hm?” you mumble, sleep creeping in on your consciousness like a thick misty fog. 

Sylus’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle, his fingers carding through your hair. He can feel his knot slowly beginning to subside, though his body still rides high from the passion. 

“Nothing. Sleep, my little dragon.”

–

“Sing for me.”

Sylus’s wings are cocooned protectively around your naked body, seeing as he had absolutely shredded your clothes earlier. The two of you sat against the trunk of a large willow, with Sylus’s back pressed against it, and your back pressed against his chest, his thighs caged around yours. His tail rests on the ground, coiled around your feet, flickering every so often.

You’d awakened to a moonlit tapestry of stars and had stayed to admire them in the serenity of the valley, instead of heading back to the chapel. 

You crane your neck to look back at him, “What, no please?”

Sylus arches an eyebrow at you, “Were you always this cheeky?”

You can’t help but let out an amused snort, “Were you always this demanding?”

Sylus grimaces, bordering dangerously close to a pout, “Will you sing for me?”

“My throat is sore,” you whine. It was wholeheartedly the truth; your voice was raw from your prior vigorous…activities. But the adorable sulk on his face has your resolve slipping away.

“Just a little,” he murmurs, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. You don’t even think he realizes he’s pouting.

You turn your eyes back to the night sky with a giggle. He always demanded you to sing for him, especially when you’d watch the moon together. It was almost a ritual for the two of you. And you rarely denied him.

♪ “This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow,” ♫

Sylus’s wings tense around you as you start singing, his chin resting on the top of your head. The gentle lilt of your voice sent a shiver down his spine, as he tried to recognize the lyrics. But he realized you hadn’t ever sung this one for him before.

♫ “If it weren't for you, I'd be here all alone,” ♪

You keep your voice low and steady as you sing the melody, staring up at the moon in the cloudless sky. It shines even brighter than it had that night in the chapel. 

♪ “I know in my heart this is where we belong.” ♫

The next lines get caught in your throat when a droplet of water splashes on the crown of your head. 

Odd. There hadn’t been any clouds in the sky.

You tilt your head all the way back, trying to get a better look at the sky, “It’s starting to rain.”

Sylus’s upside down face blocks your view, looming over you. He gently grasps your chin and brings your lips up to his, capturing you in a slow and tender kiss. 

A few more raindrops fall onto your cheek, making you shiver. The valley rain is strangely warm.

When he releases your lips, Sylus wraps his arm around your chest, holding you to him. His heart pounds so heavily you can feel it thrumming against your naked back. 

“Oh! I think the rain stopped Sylus!” you gasp, holding out your palms and extending your arms beyond the shade of the willow to try and catch some falling rainfall.

Sylus’s chest vibrates with laughter. He presses his lips into your hair, taking a deep inhale of your scent. Your pheromones nearly have him throwing you under him again, blood rushing south. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your head, shifting so his erections aren’t pressing into your spine. 

Turning to look at him, you giggle in surprise. The silver-haired dragon was not typically a man of many ‘thank yous.’

“For what? Singing?

Sylus doesn’t answer immediately, staring up at the silky glow of the full moon. His normally shadowed irises glisten unusually bright under the radiance of the stars. 

He’d always wanted someone to watch the moon with. 

Sylus looks at you. The corners of his lips are curved in a barely-there smile, but his crimson eyes behold you such devotion that your breath catches. Deep inside the recesses of your consciousness, you can feel your soul tremble, as if being caressed by the claws of another. 

“Yeah. For singing.”

–

A drop of water splashes against your cheek, shaking you out of your reverie. 

You frantically wipe the tears from your cheeks away with your fingers, but the water only continues to fall.

Looking up, you realize the sunset had faded into night. In your reminiscing, clouds had overtaken the sky, crystalline raindrops starting to cascade from the heavens. 

It’s…raining. 

It hadn’t rained for decades in Tarus City, not since that day atop the Highest Court of Justitia. 

Not until now.

♪ This world is a wasteland. ♫

You reach your hand out to catch some of the falling water in your palm, enjoying the sensation of the droplets splashing against your tepid skin. 

A fleck of ebony ash drifts into your palm, the lingering orange ember fading away like a melting sunset when it meets your wet skin, tragically beautiful. 

Like a body fading into crystals of midnight, getting swept up into the clouds.  

♫ Don't let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go. ♪

The raindrops mix with your tears. You’re not sure how much time passes with you standing there in the rain, a mess of silent sobs. Seconds, minutes, hours, you’re not sure how long. Time seems to lose meaning as you stand there, your emotions coming out in an endless stream of tears. Eventually your eyes dry, your body dehydrated with nothing left to shed. 

But the rain doesn’t show any signs of relenting.

When your bloodshot vision focusses just enough for you to regain your sight, you watch as the rainwater seems to melt away the thick layers of soot that had caked the meadow floor for decades. 

The rain was pouring down like silver threads now, gathering into the streams in the depths of the meadow. The way the water trickled down the spine of the empty riverbanks almost made it seem like the valley was alive again.

You look up at the sky. Darkness had come quick, especially with the amount of rain clouds that had surfaced. There weren’t many stars visible, the twinkling lights hidden by the smog and the clouds. 

But as you watch the billowing storm clouds, the wind picks up, parting the column of clouds into two, allowing the glow of the moon to illuminate through. 

Your breath catches as you behold the sight of the moon. It was a full moon tonight, a halo of argent brilliance. 

The same moon you’d watched together here, on that night. 

You couldn't recall the last time you'd allowed yourself to gaze at the moon like this. It felt wrong–to watch the night sky without Sylus. Or maybe you were just too much of a coward. 

Wherever he was, was there a moon for him to gaze up at too? 

Standing here in the valley, under the bask of the moonlight, you feel closer to him than you had in a long time. There’s so much you wanted to say to him, to apologize for–to explain. But you struggle to find the words, your voice caught in your throat, drowning in unrelenting rain and inexplicable emotions.

Your heart drops when the light wanes, the moon getting swallowed up by the unending storm clouds, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. 

Some words are like the moonlight hidden by the clouds. Once the moment passes, there’s no need to say them anymore.

The rainfall drizzles to a stop, leaving you a soaked and shivering mess in the creeping darkness. Though the rain has stopped, the clouds remain. They blanket the entire sky, reaching towards the valley. They trickle over the tops of the scarlet mountains, spilling down like a waterfall.

You’re about to turn to leave when another falling fleck of ash flits in front of your face, tickling your eyelashes. 

You catch it in your open hand, waiting for it to dissolve into the dewiness of your palm. But it just lays there, whole and unyielding. Picking it up, you examine it carefully, before tentatively twirling it around between your fingertips.

What you thought was a fleck of ash wasn’t actually, but a midnight datura petal. 

Your eyes widen in shock, cradling the fragmented bloom in your palm as if it were a newborn hatchling. Whirling around, you search for any possible signs that there could be flowering daturas in the valley. But the ground is covered in nothing but melting ash, as far as your eye can see. Surely nothing could have survived here. 

But the flesh feels healthy and supple as you pinch it gently between your fingertips, as if it’d just been freshly plucked. 

Wrapping your arms around your soaked and shivering body, the petal tucked in between your fingers, you look out one last time into the vast expanse of ashen scarlet hills. 

Somewhere out there, there is a blooming datura. If even just one. 

“Tarus City will bloom once more–as far as the eye can see.”

You let the wind carry your voice off, louder and stronger than you’d intended. The meadow listens, your words echoing into the heart of the valley.  

“But only for you, Sylus.”

You bring the datura petal to your lips, pressing it tenderly there. For a second, you contemplate holding onto it. Taking it with you. 

But perhaps that’d been your mistake all these years.

Holding on when you should’ve been letting go. 

You unclasp your fingers, and the wind lifts the petal from your hands. As it flutters past your shoulders, there’s an inexplicable warmth that emanates from Sylus’s mark–the faint traces of the bittersweet scent of cindered blossoms tickling your nostrils.

It drifts higher, towards the call of the wild–the mountain ranges beckoning it toward them. Higher until you can barely make it out from the expanse of the twilight sky. 

Higher, until it disappears beyond the cloudfall.

♪ Don't let me go. ♫

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

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[wendichester]

it’s me again girl💋

please can I request Cass x Winchester!reader (Sam and deans younger sister) where Sam and Dean are trying to research but reader and Castiel are playing footsies under the table giggling like teenagers

-💌

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ angel in your lap, devil in your smile,

summary. you should be focusing on this really serious, really important research session. but castiel is sitting across from you. and well, you can't help yourselves.

pairing. castiel x winchester!reader genre. fluffy fluff

wordcount. 589

notes / warnings. honestly, such a cute idea. i think I'm falling for cas, slow but god damn steady.

Sam’s got three books open in front of him and still looks pissed.

Dean’s scowling at his laptop like it personally insulted him.

There are post-it notes, empty coffee cups, and one very aggressive stack of lore on ancient Babylonian banishment rituals spread across the war room table.

And then there’s you.

Sitting right across from Castiel, pretending to read.

You flip a page you haven’t actually looked at.

Cas’s foot nudges yours.

You smile into your book.

Another nudge. This time, deliberate. A slow little drag of his boot along the inside of your ankle. You twitch slightly and accidentally let out a breathy giggle.

Dean doesn’t even glance up. “What’s funny?”

“Hmm?” you blink innocently.

He narrows his eyes. “You laughing at our impending doom, or did Cas grow a sense of humor when I wasn’t looking?”

“I am capable of humor,” Castiel says solemnly.

You stifle another laugh. His poker face is immaculate.

Sam groans. “Can we focus, please?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says. “This is very serious.”

You bite your lip.

Under the table, his foot slides up your calf.

You kick him gently, and he kicks back. It turns into this soft, flirty little tug-of-war under the table — just a touch here, a nudge there — and you can’t stop smiling.

You glance up at him. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon. Like this isn’t just flirting to him — it’s worship.

You have to look back down before Dean starts asking questions.

Too late.

Dean lowers his laptop and gives you a look.

You blink. “What?”

He gestures vaguely between you and Cas. “Why do you look like you just got laid?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. “I—”

“I do not understand the correlation,” Castiel says, ever helpful. “She is smiling. She often smiles after we—”

“OKAY,” Sam barks. “Nope. No. We are not doing this right now.”

Dean leans back in his chair. “You gotta be kidding me.”

You cross your arms. “What, I’m not allowed to be happy?”

“Not with him, you’re not.”

“Dean—”

“He’s an angel!”

“Yeah, and you dated a demon.”

Sam coughs pointedly.

Dean scowls. “Different. Totally different.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t have to sit across from her while she was playing footsies with him during a demonic meltdown!”

Your jaw drops. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew! You’ve got heart eyes the size of Kansas!”

Castiel tilts his head. “That’s not anatomically accurate—”

Dean throws his hands in the air. “This is my life. Ancient demons, horny angels, and my sister giggling like a teenager while we’re trying to stop the apocalypse.”

Sam mutters, “Honestly, kind of impressive.”

Dean shoots him a look.

You clear your throat. “Okay, yes. We were playing footsies. Sue us.”

“You’re not even sorry,” Dean mutters.

Cas looks at you. “Should I be?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Nope.”

Dean slumps back in his chair. “Great. Awesome. My angel’s whipped. My sister’s in love. Sam’s useless. I’m the only one doing any work around here.”

Sam flips a page. “We could banish you and see how that goes.”

“I’m surrounded by traitors.”

You reach under the table and grab Cas’s hand. He squeezes gently, thumb brushing your knuckles.

And yeah, okay, maybe you are smiling like an idiot.

But as Castiel leans in — quiet, close, lips brushing your temple before he goes back to his book — you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad.

Because honestly?

Let the world end.

You’ll go down holding his hand.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[jjkbambi]

roommates luigi mangione x reader 18+

smut summary your roommate luigi has been dealing drugs out of your house for or the past year and a half!!!??

warnings long ass intro, goodgirl-ish stereotype, jealousy, Angst, seriously long arguments, makeup/high sex, unedited, fingering, pussy eating, slapping, UNEDITED seriously

“hey, you live with pep, right?”

you blink, caught off guard. the question wasn’t unusual; the coffee shop was just a few blocks from campus. luigi liked to joke his only experience with roommates was sharing a house with frat boys and their girlfriends—unsurprisingly, they were the ones who usually came by. always with a package he left behind or cash they owed him.

never pretty, single girls.

you knew rebecca was single because she dumped her boyfriend at your birthday party last semester—caught him cheating and, according to campus lore, beat the shit out of both him and the girl. there was blood on the wall for weeks.

“you mean luigi?” you clarify.

“we were study buddies during undergrad. loved him,” she says, rummaging through a leather tote. she pulls out a pale pink envelope, his name scrawled across the front in careful cursive. “ran into him the other day and totally forgot to give him this. would you mind?”

you pause. the envelope feels too personal.

“you should give it to him yourself,” you say, too fast. “he’s throwing a party for the game tonight. you should come.”

“you’re so sweet. but i don’t know. i haven’t talked him in forever and so much has changed…” you feel a storm of something strange wash over you. a part of you didn’t want her to come to the party and you couldn’t place a finger on why. “is he still seeing that humanities major?”

“no, i don’t think so,” you say, trying to sound casual, even though your heart is already betraying you. pride tugs at your voice, holding it steady.

“oh. thank god,” she says. “pep’s always been so nice, but i can never tell if he’s just nice to everyone, you know?”

you’d never lie to a girl about your hot roommate’s love life—especially not just to protect your own feelings. even if they’re louder than they should be.

louder than they should be?!??! god, what were you even saying? your voice echoes in your own head, tiny and unsure. before you can spend another second replaying it, beautiful, blue-eyed rebecca leans over the counter and slides the envelope toward you. her fingers brush yours—intentional, maybe. she’s still smiling.

“listen, if i don’t make it, you’ll give it to him, right?”

maybe it was the optimist in you. maybe it was just a slow evening. or the retrograde. but ultimately, you smile—tight-lipped but genuine—and suddenly, you’re playing matchmaker. pretending your heart isn’t thudding, pretending you’re just being helpful.

the sky’s already gone purple by the time your shift ends. you smell like espresso and sweat, and your hair’s half-falling out of its bun. you don’t bother fixing it.

by the time you get to the house, the party’s already full; bass pulsing through the floorboards, bodies pressed together in the living room, and the back door swinging open every few minutes to clouds of smoke and laughter.

luigi’s posted up in the kitchen, adidas hoodie half-zipped, sleeves pushed up, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers like an afterthought. his hair’s a mess in that deliberate way, eyes sharp but warm when they land on you.

“you’re late,” he says, but he’s already moving to pour you a drink. something just a little sweeter than what he gives anyone else.

“had to close,” you say, sliding the envelope from your pocket and holding it out. “rebecca dropped this off for you.”

the brown-haired boy takes it, glancing at the cursive with a flicker of something unreadable. “cool, thanks,” he mutters, shoving it into a drawer without opening it.

you frown when he slides the envelope into the drawer like it’s junk mail. “you’re not going to read it?”

luigi glances at you, then at the drawer. “read it?”

“yeah,” you say, stepping closer. “i don’t know. it just seems like something she… put effort into.”

“y/n,” he huffs a soft laugh. “it’s not that kind of letter.”

you tilt your head. “what kind is it?”

“business,” he says. “boring stuff.”

“rebecca doesn’t seem boring.”

“she’s not. but this is,” luigi says, slipping his specialty drink into your hand—all sugar-sweet, just the way you like it.

“i’m glad you think so,” you watch him carefully as you continue your sentence, “cause i invited her over tonight.”

he tilts his head at you. “what? why would you do that?”

you shrug, trying to sound breezy. “she said you two were close. that you used to study together.”

a pause. too short to mean nothing, too long to not mean something.

“right, uh…” he tilts his head and tries to come up with more fulfilling response. “i guess i had a lot of study buddies that year.”

“okay well,” you frown at his lack of excitement. “she seemed nostalgic about it. she obviously misses you. she still calls you by your nickname and everything.”

the brunette watches your expression as he leans a hip against the counter, close now—close enough that you catch the faint smell of weed hiding underneath his signature cologne. he smiles playfully.

“so you figured i’d be thrilled to see her again? y/n, what would we even talk about?”

you’d been undergrad together, but never really together, not the way rebecca might’ve been. you wonder: were they hooking up? the story about the thought of rebecca, a dance major, seeking out robotics captain luigi mangione for help seemed strange. but who knows? there were always elective classes, chance meetings, and volunteer opportunities.

theories racketed your brain. she was his type obviously. she was everyone’s—confident, beautiful, the kind of girl who didn’t need to try to be the center of the room. the kind of girl people orbited around. the kind he’d probably want to be around—loud, magnetic, always laughing.

regardless, it wasn’t your business. you and luigi were roommates. friends, more or less, and only because the lease said so. crossing that line, even in conversation, felt weird. invasive. risky.

“don’t be a dick,” you say. “she seemed excited to see you.”

luigi raises an eyebrow. “to what, rekindle our academic bond?”

you roll your eyes. “i thought you’d be at least be little grateful i scored you a pretty date.”

“right, y/n,” he drawls out. “i’m so grateful you went out of your way to reunite me with another one of my study partners.”

“she’s gorgeous and she’s single.”

luigi watches your face carefully. “she put you up to this?”

“here i thought you were all about having a growth mindset,” you point out.

luigi sighs before another eye-roll. “i’m growing tired of this conversation. stop doing favors for people you don’t know.”

“you know, i think that’s why you’re still single.” you say, taking another swing of the sugary alcohol. “you’re close-minded.”

“i’m still single because i know what i want,” he corrects. “and you’re one to talk. you haven’t brought a guy home since you moved in.”

“don’t lump me in with you. i don’t bring guys home because i’m classy.” you say, though he was right. you weren’t seeing anyone. you just wanted to give off the impression that you were.

the brown-haired boy raises both his brows, amused. “alright then, who?”

you straighten. “i’m not telling you.”

“you get to pimp me out to strangers and i don’t get to know who you’re seeing?”

“oh, lighten up, i’d kill to have a love letter handwritten and delivered. it’s romantic!”

luigi shakes his head. “she owes me cash, y/n. it’s not a love letter.”

you feel your shoulders drop a bit, but maintain your stance. “no one decorates an envelope like that for a business transaction, luigi. give her a smile, at least.”

“if i give her a smile, do i get to know about your secret little love affair?

“it’s not like that.” at all. hopefully, rebecca could coerce him into a couple more drinks and he’d forget about this interaction completely.

“just you’re just hooking up, then? is he coming out tonight?”

“it doesn’t matter,” you give him a playful wave—desperate to end your lie—and start making your way up the stairs, but not before throwing a glance over your shoulder. “i’ll be right back. i need to change.”

“hurry back down,” luigi barks after you. “you’re seven drinks behind!”

you don’t go looking for him when you come back down.

the lights are low now, pulsing to the bass, and the house is full—warm with bodies and laughter and the smell of weed curling out through the open windows. you hear his voice somewhere, low and easy. you don’t look for rebecca but she’s here, you know it. you can feel them together somewhere in the room—close, magnetic, like a glittering coin on the pavement you have no interest in picking up.

jack—one of luigi’s older friends—spots you before you can pretend you’re just passing through. he was tall, and had just recently started a fancy press job in new york. he barely came back down for holidays, so you couldn’t help but notice him in your kitchen. he leans against the counter, tequila in hand and a half-smile already pulling at his mouth like he was waiting for you.

“y/n,” he says, eyes flicking over you, slow. “thought you’d locked yourself in for the night.”

“i tried,” you say. “someone threw a party under my house.”

“right, forgot, luigi’s infamous for being inconsiderate.” he pours you a drink without asking. “but if it gets you out here looking like that, i’m not mad about it.”

you blink, surprised, but not. jack’s always had that look about him, like he enjoys pushing a little past the line just to see what you’ll do.

“new york taught you how to flirt?”

he grins, offering you a brand new red solo cup. “no, those lessons were learned at harvard. i’ll can tell you all about it outside if you’d like.”

you glance away, take the drink. you can feel luigi somewhere behind you now, his presence like heat on your back.

“he letting you off your leash tonight?” jack presses, tone light, but there’s something sharper under it. “or is this a jailbreak?”

you huff a laugh, lifting the cup to your lips. “what leash?”

“c’mon,” he says, cocking his head. “you two play it off well, but you’ve got the kind of orbit that doesn’t happen by accident.”

“we’re just roommates,” you say.

“sure,” jack smirks. “and i’m a priest.”

before you can come up with something clever to toss back, a voice cuts through the conversation.

“oh my god, there you are!” rebecca practically bounces up to you, her face lighting up like she just spotted her favorite celebrity. she hugs you before you can even react, nearly knocking the drink out of your hand. “i couldn’t find you anywhere. this is amazing! thank you sooo much for inviting me!

you blink, surprised but trying not to show it. you haven’t seen rebecca this excited since, well… ever. how’d she get this drunk this quickly? had you really spent that long changing?

“careful, you’re gonna choke her out,” jack says, replacing her life-threatening grip with arm slipped around your waist, hovering close enough to make you feel the heat of his touch. you stiffen but don’t pull away, unsure if it’s because you’re actually okay with it or just frozen in the moment.

“sorry, sorry, i get handsy when im drunk,” rebecca says, eyes bright. you think back to your birthday party and agree silently. “don’t worry, jack, i have no plans on stealing your date.”

he leans in close, voice warm. “guess i’ll just have to hold on tighter, then.”

“date?” the word cuts in like a hook—low, sharp, unmistakably amused.

you glance up. luigi enters in behind rebecca, hands shoved in his pockets, the faintest tilt to his mouth like he’s trying very hard not to look annoyed. or worse: interested.

“i didn’t know you two were close,” luigi continues, eyes skimming over you and jack like he’s filing something away.

god. you were never going to hear the end of this.

“we’re not,” you say too quickly.

“yet,” jack adds, easy as anything, his arm still resting a little too comfortably around your waist.

you open your mouth, but before you can respond, rebecca gasps dramatically beside luigi.

“oh my god, pep, you’re so nosy,” she teases, looping her arm through his like it belongs there. “let them flirt. it’s cute.”

you blink, surprised, but try to play it off. jack chuckles. luigi doesn’t.

jack shifts, clearly picking up on the tension, and attempts to pull you away, “we were just headed out for a smoke, actually, so—”

“she doesn’t smoke,” luigi says, like it’s some sort of fact he’s decided for you.

you feel your face sink a bit, embarrassment flashing hot under your skin. really? this is how he repays you? cock-blocking you after you set him up with miss fucking pennsylvania?

“what? no, i—”

luigi cuts in, eyes steady, eyebrows raised like he’s already caught you in a lie. “you what?”

you falter. you don’t. you never have.

jack glances between you two, clearly catching on. “hey, it’s not a big deal,” he says, hands half-up in peace. “just thought you might wanna come out back. talk. chill.”

luigi’s mouth twitches, but it’s not a smile. “talk. chill. sounds thrilling.”

rebecca snorts as glances between the three of you, like she’s clocking something—then leans in, stage-whispering, “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say someone’s feeling a little left out.”

jack holds up his hands in mock innocence. “it’s just a cigarette, pep. not a proposal.”

you shift, caught somewhere between wanting to defend yourself and wanting the floor to open up and swallow you whole. “i—i’ve tried it before. once.”

luigi raises an eyebrow. “and that makes you a smoker?”

you glare at him, embarrassed. “no. i didn’t say that.”

“then why the hell are you trying to impress him?”

jack steps closer now, his voice calm but firm. “look, if there’s a problem here, we can talk about it.”

but luigi doesn’t respond to jack. his hazel eyes stay locked on you, cold and unreadable. “upstairs bathroom light’s been on for the last half hour,” he says, his voice casual, but it cuts through everything. “again.”

you pause, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “what?”

“it’s messing with the breaker,” he says, more pointed now. “you wanna help me fix it, or do you need more time with him?”

your face flushes deeper, but you don’t know what to say. you glance at jack, who’s looking at you, a little frustrated but still giving you space to make a decision.

rebecca tries to cut in with a forced smile. “okay, okay, let’s not make this a whole thing,” she says, giving luigi an exaggerated pat on the arm. “you’ve got ‘house duties’. go before the place falls apart. both of you.”

you take a deep breath, torn between the need to stay and the undeniable pull of getting away from this mess. reluctantly, you turn to follow luigi.

he doesn’t look back, but you can feel the weight of his presence as he heads toward the stairs. you follow, hesitating, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on your back.

the door clicks shut behind you, and for the first time tonight, it’s just the two of you.

“you’re being mean,” you finally say, voice tight. “i set you up with the ten of tens, and you repay me by embarrassing me in front of jack?

“embarrassing you?” he repeats in disbelief. “are you serious?”

“i would’ve never done that to you!” your voice comes out sharper than you mean it, laced with something like betrayal. “i wouldn’t humiliate you in front of someone i knew liked you.”

“yeah?” he bites back, his fawn-colored eyes darker than ever. “well, maybe if you actually paid attention, you’d realize he doesn’t just like you. jack’s been circling you for months.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you snipe. “and even if that were true, who cares? we were just talking.”

“you don’t see it,” he says, shaking his head, furious and exasperated all at once. “you never fucking see it.”

“see what?”

“he’s not subtle, and he’s definitely not harmless. he’s just waiting for you to be dumb enough to give him a shot.”

“so what?” you say. “he’s not the first guy to flirt with me, luigi.”

“he’s the first one you let,” he argues.

you throw your hands up. “jesus, who cares? he was talking to me. you know, like people do at parties. i wasn’t naked in his lap.”

“could’ve fooled me.”

that’s it. the last thread of patience snaps.

“you’ve got a real talent for making me feel like shit,” you say, each word heavy with hurt. you’re not crying. you’re not giving him the satisfaction of breaking down. but god, does it feel like he just ripped something out of you.

you don’t wait for him to say anything else. you turn on your heel, walk straight to the door, and shove it open with more force than you meant. the sound of it slamming behind you feels louder than it should, final in a way you weren’t prepared for.

he doesn’t follow.

. . .

the house is silent for days. luigi’s always been out earlier than you, and you’ve mastered the art of avoiding him—turning your head just in time to not catch his eye, slipping out the door when you hear his footsteps getting too close. there’s a strange comfort in the silence, in not having to confront what happened. but the silence is bound to break eventually.

he starts leaving little things behind. a hoodie on the couch, a mug in the sink, his shoes at the door. it’s like he’s trying to find a way to be around without being around, but it’s only making it harder for you to ignore him.

you can feel him watching, though he doesn’t say anything. you’re aware of every shift in the air, every time his footsteps get too close to your door. the air in the house gets heavier, filled with all the things neither of you are saying.

days pass like this: him and his quiet little offerings, and a stream of overly confident ex-frat guys making appearances at your coffee shop. you’ve been spending more time at work more than ever.

one afternoon, a girl—polished nails, perfect ponytail—leans over the counter and says, “hey, are you luigi’s roommate?”

you groan internally. “yes.”

she slides a thick envelope toward you. “can you give this to him?”

you should say no. it’s on the tip of your tongue. but instead, you nod once and slip it into your bag.

the house smells faintly like weed when you get home—soft and sour, like it’s sunk into the walls. you don’t think much of it until you knock once on luigi’s door, step in to drop off the envelope and. he’s on the floor, shirtless, back against his bedframe like he’s been there for a while. his curly hair is a mess, sticking up in soft waves like he’s dragged his hands through it too many times. his eyes—bambi-colored, warm and red-rimmed—find you instantly.

he blinks up at you like he wasn’t expecting to ever see you again.

“you’re home,” he says, half to himself.

you glance at the envelope you just dropped on the desk. “don’t get too excited. it’s just another envelope.”

the brown-haired boy blinks, confused, slow to react. “wait—can you just—”

“already did my part,” you cut in, stepping back.

“can you just talk to me?” he says. it’s not demanding. it’s quiet. weirdly soft. “yell at me. call me a dick. something.”

you shake your head. “we’ve argued enough.”

he stumbles closer, barefoot and slow, like he’s trying not to spook you. “y/n, come on, i didn’t mean to—”

“then why did you do it?” you cut him off, but the frustration that floods your voice doesn’t quite match the hurt you feel.

you just want him to apologize. you shake your head, trying to make sense of the confusion swirling in your chest. “i don’t you want me to say, luigi. that i felt humiliated? that i was standing there trying to have a normal conversation, and you acted like i was doing something wrong? like i was—i don't know—cheap or something?"

luigi frowns. "i would never say that.”

"you don’t have to," you snap. "the look on your face said it. the tone in your voice said it. everyone could hear it."

"i just didn't want him near you!”

“why does that matter?”

“it just does, okay?”

you cross your arms over your chest. “that’s not an answer, luigi.”

“i know… i know, i’m sorry i’ve been a mess, and i made you feel like shit, and i’m sorry,” he begins quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “but you have to understand… it’s not easy for me to say any of this. i’m not used to feeling like this.”

you glance at him, not quite following what he’s getting at. “feeling like what?”

he takes a slow step forward, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that almost feels like it’s burning him. he’s close enough now you can smell the remnants of whatever he’d been smoking—and hell, he was right. you really weren’t a smoker. you feel yourself shrink underneath the cloud, eyes studying his tired face.

“feeling jealous. feeling… like i was losing something i couldn’t live without. when i saw you with jack, smiling at him, it… god, it just hit me,” he says, his voice strained. “and i couldn’t stand it. the way you looked at him—it’s like i wasn’t even there anymore. like i was invisible to you.”

you stare at him, processing everything, and it’s like the weight of his words hits you all at once, but your pride refuses to let you soften just yet. “so what? you thought humiliating me was the answer? making me feel like shit in front of jack and rebecca.”

“no,” he says quickly, his voice raw. “god, no. that was never the plan. i just… i don’t know what the hell i was doing. i just saw you with him and my head—” he stops, shaking his head, clearly frustrated with himself. “i wasn’t thinking straight. i know it’s no excuse. i fucked up. but i want to fix it. please, y/n, i want to fix this.”

“i don’t even know what to say to you,” you murmur, your voice quieter now, but your arms still crossed defensively over your chest.

he steps forward again, desperation in his eyes. “you do, though. you do. i swear to god, i never meant to make you feel like this. i’ve… i’ve been an idiot. i don’t know how to fix it, but i can’t stand seeing you like this. i can’t stand knowing i’ve hurt you.”

“i’m sorry, y/n.” he continues, his voice dropping even lower as his arms come around to embrace you, “i know i messed up. but i care about you, more than i can say. i didn’t want him looking at you like that, not when you’re… so much more than that.”

you’re quiet for a long moment, letting yourself nuzzle into his warmth. “you should’ve just said something,” you say softly, the edge still in your voice, though it’s starting to fade.

“i know. i wish i had. i just didn’t know how to handle it. i didn’t want to mess things up between us.” his voice drops to a whisper. “but i can’t stand the thought of you thinking i don’t care.”

you look away, feeling the weight of everything swirling between you both. “i don’t know, luigi. i’m still pissed.”

the brown-haired boy exhales sharply. “yeah, i get that. i do. i’m not asking you to forgive me right away. but…” he hesitates before he pulls himself off of you, his voice almost embarrassed. “but maybe we can try… i was thinking maybe we could just to smoke, for now. just to calm down. and then we can talk more.”

your brows lift.

“you’re trying to bribe me into forgiving you with weed?”

luigi laughs under his breath. “no. maybe. i don’t know. i just… thought maybe we could use a pause.”

you eye the joint warily. “i’ve never smoked before.”

“i know,” he says gently. “and you don’t have to. just stay here with me.”

and somehow, you do. you sit on the edge of his bed while he lights up, still shirtless and stupidly pretty in the soft light. he takes the first hit, exhales slow, then offers it to you.

you hesitate.

“it’s okay,” he says, voice dipped in something tender. “you don’t have to be cool about it. i’ll talk you through.”

you take it. breathe in. cough, a little.

luigi grins. “cute.”

you narrow your eyes, but the minutes slip by quietly, and the high starts to settle into your limbs—warm, slow, like honey. the anger that once pulsed sharp behind your ribs begins to dull at the edges, softening into something you can’t quite name. he gently guides you closer to him on the bed. as you both pass the blunt back and forth, the tension is still there, but it’s lighter now, less heavy. his skin brushes yours—bare and warm—and you feel the heat of him even through the haze.

“you know,” luigi says softly, his voice low, like he’s afraid to break the moment. “you’re pretty all the time.”

you glance at him, brow arching.

“but when you’re mad at me…” he trails off with a small huff, running his fingers down the line on your chin. “it’s a problem. because i still wanna kiss you. even when you look like you want to kill me.”

you roll your eyes, trying not to smile, but it’s a losing battle. “you’re just saying that because we’re high and in your bed.”

“nah,” he says, and this time his voice drops even lower, more serious. “i’ve been thinking it since sophomore year.”

“i think you’re confusing me with someone else.” you laugh. “we didn’t know each other sophomore year.”

“what do you mean?” he frowns. “that was the first year you worked at the coffee shop.”

“sure, yeah,” you agree. that was correct. but you two didn’t even know each other until halloweekend junior year. “how would you even know that? you don’t even like coffee.”

“you’d never remember me,” luigi adds quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i’d just sit there and try to study. you were always there, like… humming to yourself behind the counter. or talking to old people like they were your best friends. i don’t know. you just—made everything feel more fun.”

you stare at him, processing.

he shifts closer, just slightly. the bed dips. his shoulder brushes yours again. you don’t pull away.

his fingers find your hair, brushing it back from your cheek, so gentle it makes your chest ache. “i’m sorry for being a dick,” he says. “at the party. before that. all of it. i didn’t know how to say any of this. and i didn’t want to screw it up.”

“you kind of did,” you say, but there’s no bite to it. just truth.

“i know.” his thumb traces lightly along your jaw. “but if there’s still a chance… i want to try.”

your heart skips. the weed makes everything feel softer, but the clarity in his eyes is real.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, voice low. nervous.

you hesitate for just a second. then you nod.

and when he leans in, it’s slow. he’s giving you every second to pull away. but you don’t. your eyes flutter shut and his mouth finds yours, warm and tentative, until the kiss deepens with something that feels like all the things he never said. you melt into his warmth, one hand on his bare chest, the other tangled in his curls. his hands are everywhere, tracing the curve of your back, sliding under your shirt.

you gasp into his mouth as he quickly finds the softness of your hip, pulling you closer and tugging your leg over him so the heat of your core is against him. shaky breaths escape you as his lips travel up your neck.

“y/n, hold on,” luigi murmurs, his body feverish beneath yours as you feel his raging bulge poking into you with every small movement you make. “are you sure?”

“yes.” you were misty-eyed and barely breathing but completely sure, your arms wrapping around his neck, teasingly scratching his back with your nails. “you don’t have to be so careful with me.”

the brown-haired boy lets out a short laugh as he leans in for another kiss. “don’t say shit like that,” he murmurs.

you weren’t usually this confident. but other than this weekend, you couldn’t picture luigi as anything other than sugar sweet.

“or what?”

“or i’m not gonna be able to control myself.”

“control yourself?” you repeat, feeling a hazy laugh escape your lips without reason. “luigi, you could never hurt me.”

“yeah?” luigi hums. “you sure you can take it?”

“i want to,” you say, overconfident. “i want you, luigi.”

and before you could even adjust, he was on top of you, his tongue down your throat as you pressed yourself into him, feeling his hard cock against you.

you gripped his bicep as his two large fingers found your heat, giving you no time to adjust. he moved with precision and purpose, thrusting and curling as you were forced to look into his brown eyes.

“good girl, so wet f’me,” he whispers. eyeing you down, admiring the wet patch he’s created through ur panties.

“that’s all for me, yeah?” he continues airily. he swipes his fingers across the waistband of your panties, letting it catch and snap lightly against your butt. you gasp, and he grins, pleased with himself. “or did you wanna call up jack one more time? make his fuckin’ night?”

“no,” you hum. “i only want you.”

“good girl,” he murmurs into your skin as he begins to kiss down your body. he harshly rips the fabric of your panties off your body.

you pout. “those were expensive.”

“i’ll buy you anything you need,” he says. “just let me have my way with you.”

helpless and impatient, you whine, when he spits against your core, lubricating his movements so he can abuse every one of your senses. his tongue darts inside your weeping cunt, moving freely with the oozing wetness that gushes over, moaning with every sweet gasp that escapes you.

“luigi," you writhe, fingers grappling blindly at the curls that lay matted against luigi’s forehead. "please please please.."

his response is muffled against your pussy as he licks every ounce of arousal that your cunt provides, spurred on by the fruitless push of your heels into the mattress and the tightening of your thighs around his skull. he's eager to make up for lost time, sealing his lips around your clit for the last time so that your spasming, legs locking into a momentary paralyzed position until he's pressing palms into your dewy thighs and forcing them farther apart to delve further into his meal.

you can’t help but let out a whimper when he pulls his mouth off of you, dragging you to the edge of his bed by your ankles. “luigi,” you cry out, helpless.

“don’t be a brat,” he says before throwing. a hard smack to across your face. “i’m gonna give you exactly what you need.”

tugging at his sweatpants down, letting them fall, and pushing his boxers down just enough for his huge veiny cock to sit up hitting his stomach.

your heart races at the sight of him, you already know he’s gonna stretch you out. he loves the look of fear in ur eyes as u take him in. without any warning at all, he starts ploughing his massive cock into ur soaked innocence. you scream at the impact, tears welling in your eyes as he fucks you with no remorse.

your legs unconsciously wrap around his waist. his hands grip onto your hips tightly, surely leaving bruises for you in the morning. you feel a slap come down on your ass cheek, you let out a sharp moan, and another hard slap makes you writhe in pain.

“where you goin’?” he retorts, somewhere between playful and arrogant. “don’t run from it, baby, you said you’d be a good girl f’me.”

“luigi, fuck, hold on—” you cry out when he goes in deeper.

“fuckin’ take it, quit complaining.” he gripes before taking your tit in one hand, teasing your nipple in between his fingers.

you shiver at the sensation. “luigi!”

“just like that,” he grunts. “scream on my cock like that, sweetheart. let the neighbors know.”

he put his whole body into fucking you, tightened his grip around your throat and leaned down to whisper in your ear, pushing you further down and you squirmed underneath him.

"you want me to fill you up, huh?" he says, voice low and filthy. "want me to come inside you?" his thumb finds your clit, putting the slightest pressure as he circles slowly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

you can’t answer, not with words. just a desperate whimper as your legs lock tighter around his waist, hips rolling up to meet him. "come on, princess,” luigi coos. "don’t make me do all the work. least you could do is tell me what you want.”

"p-please… luigi. i can't—” you whimpered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from sheer, ineffable need. your inner muscles clenched desperately, trying to pull the orgasm out.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good, huh?”he groans into your ear, you writhe against him once more.

“s’close,” you cry out, finally. “want you to breed me.”

luigi moans at the request, flipping you over as you let out moans that got muffled by the pillow, a handful of your hair around his fist as you closed your eyes in pleasure, your fists gripping the sheets to try and anchor yourself as he whispered in your ear. every thrust, truth and praise. such a good girl for me... you're mine... this pussy's all mine... no one's gonna fuck this pretty girl like i do..." until you become undone around him, his own cum mixing with your juices as your cunt clenched around him.

luigi’s body sinks into the mattress beside yours, the bed dipping gently beneath him. the air is thick with the scent of sex and weed—hazy, intimate, almost golden in the low light. it clings to the sheets, to your skin, to the quiet between you. but there’s no regret. no leftover ache. whatever had fractured between you hours ago feels far away now, softened by touch and breath and the comfort of being near each other again.

you’re still staring up at the ceiling, letting the moment settle into something that feels like this—peaceful, but maybe a little fragile. then, almost without thinking, you ask,

“so… if this didn’t work, what was your backup plan?”

luigi lets out a quiet laugh, like he’s caught off guard. “you think i had a backup?”

“you always do,” you tease, shifting slightly to look at him.

he hesitates, glancing at the ceiling like he’s deciding how much he’s willing to share. then, finally,

“i wrote you something.”

you blink. “like a song?”

he snorts. “jesus christ, no.”

“oh.”

“don’t look so disappointed, it was just as corny,” he says. there’s a pause, then a soft laugh from his side of the bed. not mocking. nervous.

“i, uh…” he continues, and he’s already blushing, you can hear it in his voice. “it was a letter. i wasn’t gonna show you unless i had to. like, absolute worst case scenario.”

you shift, propping yourself up on one elbow so you can see him better. “you wrote me a love letter?”

he makes a face. “no, i wouldn’t call it that.”

you turn to face him, amused. “what would you call it?”

“something i’m gonna throw away as soon as you fall asleep.”

you pout, turning fully to face him now. “what, it wasn’t romantic?”

“that’s not what i said,” he mutters. “it’s just… you said that thing in the kitchen. about how you’d kill to have someone write you a love letter.“

you meet his gaze, a little shocked by how tender it is, how much sincerity he’s not even trying to hide.

“wait,” you say, heart beating a little faster, “where’s this letter?”

he looks away, obviously flustered. “uh… probably buried at the bottom of my backpack somewhere.”

you narrow your gaze. “you’re lying.”

he turns toward you with a smile, but it’s more like a nervous grin. “yeah, well… if you’d seen it, you’d understand why.”

you pout immediately. “it doesn’t matter what it says. it’s my first love letter.”

the fan hums its tired rhythm above you, steady and slow. beneath the blanket, your fingers find his—softly, like a thought half-formed, like instinct.

“you seriously not gonna let me read it?” you ask eventually.

he doesn’t answer right away.

“maybe not tonight,” he says.

you nod, and that’s fine. it’s more than fine.

you stretch your arm across the space between you, hand resting just barely on his chest. his heart beats steady beneath your palm. real. ordinary. a little fast.

“hey,” you say softly.

he looks at you.

“don’t lose it.”

“the letter?”

you nod.

he watches you for a long second. then says, “i won’t.”

ask-box officially re-opened!

masterlist

[galactic-magick]

here i come with arcane prompts bestie >:3

but this one might hurt ;-;

also SPOILERS FOR S1 IF ANYONE HASNT SEEN IT YET

/////

how about a reader's reaction to the council getting bombed O_O

their frantic attempts to find their lover(Viktor ofc :3), but who they find may not be the man they once knew TwT

I got a little carried away with this one bestie...

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I Thought You Were Dead: Viktor x Reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Smut about halfway through. I put a *** before the smut starts in case anyone doesn't want to read that part. Reader has afab anatomy but no pronouns or feminine specific endearments are used. Also LORE SPOILERS, if you don't know what happens to Viktor in the League of Legends lore then don't read this!!

Author's Notes: This could be read as a part 2 to my other Viktor fic Nights Like This, which takes place in Act 1 whereas this takes place after season 1.

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The explosion was deafening.

You can feel your soul sink as soon as you step outside your house, watching the smoke surround the council building. Your feet start running before you’ve processed anything, pushing through the gasping crowds in the streets with their eyes glued to the same devastating spectacle.

Tears stream down your face against the dusty wind, praying to anyone who will listen that your worst fear hasn’t happened. Running as if getting there faster might change the outcome.

It can’t end like this. Not when you haven’t said everything you want to say. Not when you have so much left to do together.

Not when you haven’t said goodbye.

The truth is, you haven’t even seen your husband in several days, maybe even a whole week. He’s been distant lately, so consumed by his experiments that he rarely comes home anymore. You knew what you were getting into marrying a scientist, especially the finest scientist in Piltover, but it still hurts. It hurts to see him driving himself mad and getting sicker, refusing to let you take care of him like he used to. He doesn’t like when you come to visit him at the lab because it’s too dangerous, and he doesn’t come home because he wants to be in the lab—so you’ve stopped trying. You can’t bear to see him hardly eat or sleep for days. You know he loves you, and you still love him, but right now there’s no getting through to him, and all you can do is wait it out until he either comes to his senses or succumbs to his torturous research.

Your mind flashes back to all the fights you had, begging him to come home, begging him to let you stay by his side. You both said things you shouldn’t have, hearts torn apart in mourning of a marriage that once was so perfect. You miss the nights where you were each other's safe space, where the world didn’t feel so grand and overwhelming. You wonder when it was exactly that you stopped fighting, when you gave up on begging and simply loved him as much as you could whenever you finally saw him.

A large battalion of enforcers encircle the scene, pushing back civilians as they attempt to view what happened. The rubble has fallen into mountains, several of them on fire.

You know he was in there. He must’ve been.

“Where are the survivors?!” you demand, shoving against the enforcers.

“We have not found any yet. Please return to your home-”

You pull out the knife you keep in your pocket for emergencies, pressing it against the enforcer’s throat, “My husband was in there. I am not leaving until I find him.”

The other enforcers turn their weapons towards you, and you quickly realize you’ll never beat them with nothing but a dagger and deep rooted rage.

You drop the knife to the ground and put your hands up, awaiting your fate. Would they kill you? Send you home with a warning? Trial you?

Well, not without a council.

“Please…” the sobs return, their weapons still pointing at you. “I just want to know if he’s alive. Just let me look for his body-”

You’re cut off by hands on your wrists and mouth, handcuffing you and knocking you out.

Several months later...

You should’ve known any retaliation against an enforcer could get you thrown in here.

Back against the stone wall of your cell in Stillwater, you envision that day once again, hating yourself for being so stupid. Without the council, the enforcers have started throwing literally anyone in here. In an attempt to contain the chaos of no longer having a government, even the smallest crime or protest is equivalent to murder. All you did was threaten an officer for information on your husband, but that was enough to banish you from any possibility of ever seeing him again.

If he was alive, would he know to come find you? Or would he go back home to find you gone and assume you died? Would he throw himself back into his research regardless of the tragic accident, not even noticing you haven’t tried to visit him in months?

Most days it’s easier to just tell yourself he’s dead. The man you loved so deeply no longer exists, and you’ll never love again. This is your life now, cold and dark and hopeless.

You sink to the floor, leaning on your side in an effort to get some sleep.

Though your slumber is awakened not long after by terrifying noises down the hall.

A collection of screams, an alarm bell, and loud clanging fill your ears. You jump up, looking through the bars of your cell to get a glimpse. You see nothing, but then begin to hear stomping footsteps thundering towards your end of the hall.

You stumble back to the far wall, shaking as the footsteps get closer.

The first thing you see is a pair of glowing orange eyes staring at you through the bars, and your breath leaves your lungs.

Is this really how you’re fated to die?

With ease, the mysterious figure rips off the door with what looks like a mechanical arm. The dim light hits him, and your entire body trembles. He’s covered in metal plating and armor, his face covered with a thick mask. He doesn’t strike you as human, except for what looks like human hair falling around his head.

He walks towards you, and you cower in his shadow. What does this machine want from you? You have nothing.

He says your name, and you freeze. It’s modulated and echoed from the mask, but you are certain that’s what he said.

And you’re also certain you’ve heard that voice before.

The figure reaches his hand towards you, the cold metal of his fingers touching your face. It tingles, as if there’s energy sparking through. His other hand lifts off his mask and drops it to the floor.

“Viktor?”

Parts of his face are covered with metal plating, but it’s undoubtedly him. Same eyes, same nose, same cheekbones. His hair swooping down the sides of his forehead and the small gap between his teeth.

You throw your arms around him and kiss him, your body hitting his metal torso hard enough to leave a bruise, but you don’t care. You kiss him until there’s not a single atom of oxygen left in your lungs, and even then you risk a few seconds more, his lips worthy of causing suffocation. Your fingers slide into his hair, just as soft as your remember. He gently embraces you back, wary of hurting you with how tightly he wishes to hold you.

“Viktor—I went to find you that day—“ you pant for air. “I thought you were dead—“

“I know, darling, I know,” he kisses your forehead before fervently returning to your lips. “I thought you were dead too before I heard word of people being sent here.”

He breaks apart from you and you let out a soft whine, “Vik-”

“I have to get you out of here now, okay?”

You nod in understanding and grab onto him as he puts his mask back on. He races back down the hall, pushing any leftover guards out of his way. You cling onto him, in disbelief that he moves so fast with ease. So many questions run through your mind, but you know you’ll have to wait for answers.

He carries and holds you in silence until you both get to safety. You don’t recognize the place he’s taken you to, but it’s undoubtedly his space. The tools and gadgets all over the tables and walls, the dim light you don’t understand how anyone could work under, the journals with different equations written barely legibly. You wonder if your old home is still standing or has been taken by someone else. Either way, this is your home now.

With him.

He takes off his mask and you’re once again met with his beautiful face. Scarred and tired, but still more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’m so sorry. For everything,” he says. “I know I will never be able to make it up to you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I am never letting you leave my sight again.”

Your bodies instinctively wrap around each-other, him picking you up and setting you down on one of his desks. The sensation is so new, since he’s never been strong enough to lift you before. Despite the novelty though, it feels as if no time has passed, as if this is a routine you’ve done every day, his hands all over you as soon as you’re alone.

You want to ignore the insanity of all this, how the love of your life has returned to you encased in metal. You want to forego all the questions, letting him continue his kisses on your neck and the wandering fingers on your thigh. You wonder what he feels like now—if it’s different—if what he can do to you now will make you forget every tear you ever shed for him.

You sigh, completely drunk on his touches.

“Viktor…” You look into his eyes, tracing your thumbs along his now metallic jaw. “I want to know what happened to you. Please.”

His caresses slow, his focus shifting to your words, “I will tell you everything, I promise,”

You grasp his hands, “Then tell me.”

He exhales, looking down at himself. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. He doesn’t want to risk you thinking of him differently or not loving him the same. Without you, he’d have nothing left to stay human for.

After all, he’s more machine than man now.

“I was as good as dead,” he finally says. “My injuries should’ve killed me, but an old…” he hesitates, “...friend found me. He helped me use hextech and shimmer to fix and augment my body. I’m stronger now, I can help more people now, I can protect you now. I’ve evolved beyond my human ailments-”

“Viktor,” you interrupt him. “Who helped you?”

He falls silent, fully aware you already know the answer.

“How could you?” you scold him. “How could you go back to that horrid, vile man? Who knows what he really did to you?”

“Singed may have unethical methods, but I assure you I’d be dead right now without him. You wouldn’t understand-”

“I understand that he sees you as nothing more than an experiment! What’s going to happen when this new body starts to break down? He’ll replace you with more mechanical parts until there’s nothing left of you. He does anything to make his specimens survive, and you know that!”

“So you’d rather me be dead? You’d rather still be in Stillwater, rotting your days away in misery?”

The floodgates of your glassy eyes break, and you let out the ugliest of sobs that have been building up for too long. No, you don’t want him dead, of course you don’t.

But there are fates worse than death.

You clumsily grab for him, pulling him between your legs and surrounding him with your limbs. Your lips crash together once more, this time more carnal and aggressive. Regardless of how angry you are, you can’t deny that you need him desperately. He cradles your face, wiping your tears away as they fall.

“Just promise me…” you beg into his mouth. “Promise me you won’t go back there again. Stay with me.”

“I promise,” he hums. “But you have to promise me something too.”

“What?” your eyes are already fluttering deliriously.

“You have to promise you’ll let me apologize every day of the rest of our lives,” he brushes his lips against your ear while his hands wander up your shirt, “And I think I know how you want me to do it.”

Your eyes widen, shivers already running down your spine.

***

It’s been so long, your body yearning for his as if you’ve been deprived from him for an eternity. You want to feel his new hands everywhere, his new fingers inside you…

Viktor wastes no time stripping you down, your shirt and bra flung across the room. He buries his face between your breasts for a moment before hoisting you up again, carrying you to the mattress in the corner.

“Since when do you ever have a proper place to sleep in your labs?” you laugh, sinking into the unexpected comfort.

“I didn’t get it for sleeping,” he smirks, placing kisses across your chest and shoulders, “I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I rescued you.”

“You’re telling me you got this bed just to fuck me?”

“Of course,” he shrugs, completely matter-of-factually.

You chuckle, a genuine smile stretching across your face so wide it almost hurts. You haven’t laughed or felt the pure joy and bliss of being in love in so long.

“I…” Viktor speaks again, hovering over you. “I don’t know fully what this new body can do. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you smile, intertwining your fingers with his. “Is it...different?”

“Everything’s different,” he leans down to kiss you again. “Let’s just hope it’s in a good way.”

You nod enthusiastically, pulling him down to you. His cold metal torso presses against yours, a surprisingly pleasant sensation. You quickly acclimate to the new textures of his figure, wondering if any skin still exists.

He remembers all the places you like to be touched and kissed, and you grow more impatient by the minute. You’ve needed him—ached for him. You want him in any way he can give you.

He pulls off the rest of your clothes, teasing his mechanical fingers in circles around your clit.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you moan, slithering your own fingers into his hair.

Viktor’s always been good with his hands, being an inventor and all. He’s never once failed to satisfy you with his hands alone since you’ve been together, and he certainly wasn’t stopping now. He goes slowly, constantly needing reassurance that you’re alright. There’s nothing sharp about his fingers, a relief to both of you. They move just like his old flesh did, pulsing in and out with the finest precision. There’s moments where you feel a slight vibration, although you’re unsure if he’s doing that purposefully. Either way, he keeps you in ecstasy until you eventually come undone.

You pull his lips back up to yours immediately, craving his taste. His hands run down your body once again before returning back to the same spot.

You yelp his name as he works more fingers inside you. This is unheard of, him going back for more so soon. You had grown accustomed to his low stamina from before, and you never minded multiple rounds being a rarity. But now there’s not a single hint of exhaustion on his face, his augments freeing him from much of the pain that used to plague him. Instead there’s determination in his eyes, a drive to make love to you until you can’t take it anymore.

He builds you up to your second orgasm of the night, kissing and holding you softly as you come down from it.

“Viktor…” you sigh, completely out of breath. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down his body, “Darling, I...I’m not sure if everything works the same. You don’t have to worry about me—“

“Let me try,” you plead. “Does any of this come off?”

He nods, removing the outer layers of metal with clicks and hisses. It was hard for you to tell where the armor ended and his body began, but the more he takes off, the more you recognize his familiar silhouette. There’s still patches of flesh here and there—warm skin to your fingertips, fused with the augmentations flawlessly.

And it seems the area you’ve wanted to see is one of the places untouched.

Well, not completely untouched. It’s covered in glowing purple veins, throbbing like they’ll explode any second. Viktor looks into your eyes nervously, and you reassure him with a kiss.

“It’ll be okay,” your breaths are hot, hovering over his lips. “Now tell me what you want, darling.”

“You.” he moans as your hand takes hold of his hardness.

“Everything seems to be working fine to me,” you smile, lining him up with your entrance. “I’m ready when you are.”

He’s shaking, for the first time since all his enhancements. He’s been so strong—no—indestructible, yet one look at you and the vulnerability returns in crashing waves. He’s still the same man you fell in love with, but now he could too easily hurt you.

He presses in slowly, eyes locked on your expressions for any sign of discomfort, but they never come. Instead, the noises and faces you make could be enough for him to finish right then and there if he didn’t have such control.

“Viktor…” you sigh, pulling him towards you as he bottoms out. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He stamps kisses on your jaw, then nuzzles his nose into your neck, “You feel even better than I remembered.”

“Do I now?” you chuckle, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes as he looks back up at you.

“Mmhmm,” he begins to thrust in and out slowly, earning more luscious sounds from your lips.

There’s so much of him that feels the same, but the sensation is so new. Is he bigger than before? Is it just the different texture from the shimmer experiments? You’re not sure, all you truly care about is that he feels divine.

You’re both getting close, whispering “I love you’s” until the long awaited release. He holds you tightly afterwards, refusing to let go until you both catch your breath.

“Viktor,” you ruffle his hair. “As amazing as that was, I don’t think I can handle a round four.”

He chuckles, “That’s alright. I’ll only go as long as you want me to. There’s always tomorrow.”

You giggle, kissing the top of his head. You push yourself up on your elbows, looking at the mess you both made, “I think we ruined your new mattress.”

He glances as well, noticing the cum stains, some of them a light purple color, a supposed side effect of the shimmer, “We’ll get a new one. For now lets get you cleaned up.”

He picks you up in one swift motion, carrying you outside. His new lab is conveniently next to the river, and far away enough from other houses to protect your decency. The water is cold, but not unbearably so. The stickiness rinses off, and you’re left to admire your lover once again in the moonlight.

He glistens under the stars, his gaze soft and sweet, just as it’s always been. His hands never leave you, caressing your wet skin gently and adoringly.

He’s still everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s still the man you’d die and kill for.

He’s still the one you’ll spend the rest of your days with, no matter what he becomes.

[muniimyg]

BAD HABIT // JJK

15 | tiger lilies // series m.list

note: geez sorry i'm such a liar >< hope u enj this ,, definitely picking up the plot and oc's lore now !!! MWAHH HA HA HA !!! enj the cute vibes (while they last)

//

jungkook might set this place on fire.

he can’t help but think about it.

how easy it would be to ignite a flame and watch everything turn into ash. for all the walls, doors, and ancient furniture in this fucking palace to burn—just so he could see you.

to know where you are.

to feel you close.

to be with you.

his fingers curl into a fist to stop himself.

jungkook shifts in his seat. he can’t sit still... can’t stop feeling like he’s a match, burning too fast, burning too hot.

no one in the entire world would understand except you. this… feeling.

this longing.

this need.

god, he’s trying so hard not to feel it.

he really is.

but his knees bounce under the desk. his fingers twitch, and his precious pencil levitates above his head, spinning faster than it should. it does more than stim him—it reveals where his headspace is at.

everyone in the room is nervous. on edge. namjoon is more than ready for the chaos jungkook could unleash. he braces himself.

“she’s probably just running late,” namjoon says, leaning against jungkook’s desk with crossed arms.

“it happens,” yoongi adds, tone calm, patient.

jin nods, squeezing himself in the conversation. "besides, where else could she be? it's not like she'd just leave."

jungkook doesn’t know.

that’s what irks him.

you’re guarded right now. he can’t shut his eyes and feel you. can’t get in touch. relying on text messages is his last resort, and you haven’t answered any of them.

“she hasn’t even read my texts,” jungkook mutters, jaw tightening. “that doesn’t happen.”

if only you could see him.

he hasn’t stopped checking. the blue glow of his phone screen taunts him—message after message, all delivered, all unread.

this entire situation feels like a punch to the gut. you’re never late. not to class, not to him. it doesn’t sit right.

something is off.

taehyung exhales, standing up and poking at jungkook’s spinning pencil. the minute he makes contact, jungkook sends him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“maybe she just—”

then, the door swings open.

jungkook turns so fast that his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. heads snap up, eyes darting to the entrance.

for a split second, his eyes light up. a fraction of a moment.

there you are.

laughing.

with rowoon by your side.

you’re drenched—soaked—clothes clinging to you in a way that makes jungkook’s jaw clench so tightly it aches. water drips from your hair, down the curve of your jaw, down the exposed skin of your throat, trailing along the fabric of your now nearly see-through blouse—

jungkook grips the edge of his desk.

and rowoon—he’s too close.

his shoulder brushes yours when he shifts. his grin is too easy, too familiar. the way his eyes crinkle as he nudges you with his elbow, like you two are sharing something—

a moment?

you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“what happened?” jimin is the first to react, pushing off his desk to rush toward you. the rest of the guys follow, crowding around you both. the class erupts into whispers, eyes flickering between you and rowoon.

you shake your head, still breathless with laughter. “we—uh—”

“she fell in,” rowoon supplies, grinning as he crosses his arms.

you groan, nudging him. “we fell in.”

jungkook can’t breathe.

it’s like all the air in the world evaporated.

he doesn’t move.

he can’t.

“we ran into each other on the way to class,” you explain, oblivious to the way jungkook is burning. “i was feeding the swans at the lake, and rowoon—”

“—thought it looked fun,” rowoon cuts in with a chuckle.

“you pushed me,” you accuse, but there’s no real heat behind it. only amusement. your words earn a few laughs from the class and a hitched breath from the guys. they can only imagine how infuriating this must be for jungkook. jimin’s lips tighten into a warning-like smile, eyes darting towards him.

it’s a signal.

a signal you miss.

“you slipped on your own!”

“and then you slipped!”

laughter spills from you again, mixing with rowoon’s.

… and there’s something about that sound that sets jungkook off. something dark and ugly coils in his stomach, leaving no room for goodness.

no room for kindness.

no room for fucking rationality.

“guess i should’ve known better,” rowoon continues, tilting his head at you, voice dipping into something too lighthearted. “you’ve always been this clumsy. guess some things never change, huh?”

rowoon lifts a hand and pats the top of your head. he’s significantly taller than you, so naturally, he leans in. you look up at him, and everything inside jungkook shifts.

the pencil above jungkook’s hand spins faster.

rowoon isn’t even saying anything particularly flirtatious, nor is he really doing anything that crosses the line (debatable), but jungkook can see it—the subtle closeness, the ease in his tone, the way his eyes linger.

the pencil spins and spins—

faster.

faster.

faster.

“you’re all grown up now, but you’re still the same.”

“how so?”

“still cute.”

then—

jungkook’s pencil shoots forward.

there’s no time to stop it. no fraction of a second fast enough to stop it from darting toward rowoon.

rowoon jerks back as it zips right in front of his face, only to drop—harmless—at his feet.

silence.

the entire room goes still.

… which is strange because jungkook swears it’s still spinning. his chest rises and falls, slow and deliberate. his eyes don’t meet anyone’s.

not rowoon’s.

not yours.

not even the rest of the boys.

instead, he moves.

chair scraping back, desk shoved away—he stands, shoulders rigid, and shrugs out of his uniform jacket. as he makes his way to you, namjoon places a hand on his shoulder, a mindful warning. jungkook shifts, shaking him off.

the guys exchange looks, unknowing of what’s to come.

jungkook steps forward—silent, purposeful—and drapes the jacket over your shoulders before you can react.

your fingers curl around the fabric instinctively.

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish.

his hand finds yours, fingers wrapping around your wrist.

and then—he walks.

out of the classroom, down the hallway, pulling you along.

no one stops him.

not even you.

you only glance back once, just in time to see rowoon rubbing his jaw with a sheepish grin.

the second you and jungkook are out of sight, rowoon sighs and looks at the guys. with a regretful look, he attempts to smile.

“too far?”

jin approaches, patting his shoulder and shaking his head.

“might wanna lay low. i see a black eye in your future if you don’t.”

the midmorning sunlight soaks the palace halls.

it seeps through the stained-glass windows, scattering colors across the marble floors. the air is warm, thick with the scent of fresh roses from the gardens below. outside, birds chatter in the trees, their distant calls cutting through the stillness.

but inside... it feels so gloomy.

so dark.

jungkook is silent.

his grip on your wrist is firm, his pace relentless as he leads you forward. his uniform jacket sways with each step, the golden embroidery catching in the light, but his face is unreadable.

tense.

focused.

hurt.

and he still hasn’t told you where you’re going.

the only sound between you is the sharp click of your shoes against stone, the occasional rustle of passing curtains. there’s no one around—just you, jungkook, and the weight of whatever he refuses to say.

your lips part, hesitant.

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t slow.

“jungkook,” you try again, tugging against his hold. you add a laugh, light, teasing, hoping to soften the mood. “come on. i didn't... i didn't meant to—it wasn't meant to be... it's not that serious—”

“it is.”

you nearly trip.

his voice is quiet, but it cuts through the air like a blade.

your steps falter, forcing him to stop. his fingers loosen just enough for you to yank your wrist free.

when he turns, his face is cast in shadow, the sunlight outlining his sharp features. his dark eyes flicker with something unreadable—something tight in his chest, something he’s struggling to name. his lips press into a firm line, but they part—just slightly—like he wants to say something.

like he doesn’t know how.

“talk to me,” you plead. “i’ll go where you want me to go… but talk to me first. please.”

at first, his chest tightens.

and then, finally, his voice—low, unsteady.

“you’re the princess.”

you inhale.

"i know that."

he doesn’t look at you when he says it. his gaze flickers away, jaw tense.

“really?" he asks, a little harsh. "because it doesn't seem like you do. i get that you want to have fun and have friendships, and he's from your childhood... but come on, p... y-you can’t be walking around soaked with your shirt going see-through.” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “you shouldn’t be fooling around with a guy that isn’t your soulmate. you shouldn’t—”

his voice wavers, just barely, before he stops himself.

you blink at him, heart drumming unevenly against your ribs. he’s never been this… direct. not with you.

not like this.

and suddenly, something clicks.

the clenched fists. the rigid shoulders. the storm brewing in his eyes.

he isn’t just upset. he’s not just jeaous. he's protecting you.

“you should’ve at least read my texts.”

instantly, jungkook feels like he needs to throw up. l

ike he needs to get everything out of his system. you—he needs you out of his system. this is so damn painful all the fucking time. why is it that he feels like he’ll lose his mind any second now—

“okay.” you nod slowly, stepping closer. “okay. you’re right.”

his brows twitch together, barely perceptible, but he doesn’t move when your fingers brush against the sleeve of his uniform.

a breath of silence.

then—

“did you drop your phone? is that why you didn't look at my messages?”

your lips part slightly. “it was in my bag. i didn’t fall in with my bag on.”

jungkook stiffens.

the air shifts.

“where’s your bag now?”

“i left it in class. i dropped it when you dragged me away.”

silence.

“you should’ve checked your phone after you fell in.” he says, still stuck on the topic. the tips of his ears go pink first, then the color spreads—down to his cheeks, his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his uniform. he’s nagging, but he feels like he has to. he wants you to know.

you almost snort. “yeah. i should have. i’m sorry, baby.”

he gulps.

baby.

“what did you text me?” you ask, tilting your head. “was it that important that you’re being all sulky—”

“nothing,” he mutters, looking away.

your brow lifts. “i’m gonna see it anyway. just tell me.”

he shrugs, turning his back on you. “you’re gonna see it anyway. why should i tell you?”

that does it.

your expression flattens. jungkook knows how to be difficult—stubborn, impossible, infuriatingly smug. and right now, he’s all three.

you exhale, slow.

then, without warning, you step forward, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind, pressing into his back.

jungkook stiffens entirely.

the warmth of his body seeps into yours. his uniform is crisp beneath your fingertips, but he smells warm, familiar. like clean linen, like something soft beneath all that armor.

you tip your head against his shoulder, voice barely above a whisper.

“tell me.”

his chest rises—then falls, steady.

“no.”

“please?”

“no.”

you huff against his back before sighing dramatically.

“fine.”

and then, before he can react, you pull back, fingers immediately sliding down the front of his jacket—patting down his pockets, searching.

jungkook reacts on instinct.

his fingers close around his phone first, yanking it away before you can grab it. his other hand shoots up, holding it high above your head, eyes gleaming with victory.

you pause.

jungkook smirks.

that smug little—

before he can say something smart, you step forward, quick. you tiptoe and press your lips on his.

for the second time today, jungkook stops breathing.

for the first few seconds, he doesn’t react at all. his fingers go slack around his phone, his other hand hovers in the air, unsure of where to land.

then—

slowly, slowly—

he leans in.

he sinks into it.

his lips press against yours, warm, hesitant, and then firmer. his free hand drops, skimming along your waist before settling there, pulling you in. he kisses you, taking you in completely. it’s like he’s melting into your lips.

his phone slips from his grip.

somewhere, it lands against the marble with a dull thud, but neither of you notice.

because now—his hands are curling at your sides, gathering you close. his lips part just slightly, just enough to take more, to taste more. his nose brushes yours, and you feel him exhale, sharp, like he wasn’t expecting this, like he wasn’t prepared.

and maybe you weren’t either.

but it’s him.

it’s this.

it’s the way he moves so carefully, so slowly, like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

and when you finally pull away, your lips are barely brushing against his when you murmur—

“is that what you texted me?”

jungkook exhales.

his hands tighten at your waist. his forehead tips forward, resting against yours for just a second before he groans, rolling his eyes.

he doesn’t answer.

instead, he takes your hand again—fingers locking around yours, warm and firm, no hesitation this time.

“come on,” he mutters, leading you toward the palace doors.

he doesn't tell you where he's taking you... but you don't really care anymore. at this point, you know him enough to trust that wherever he'll take you is somewhere for you to be safe and taken care of.

somewhere to be loved.

so, with your entire heart—you follow him.

you’re standing in the middle of jungkook’s dorm, shivering.

the chill clings to your skin, stubborn and unforgiving. even in the warmth of his room, you can’t shake the way the cold seeped into your bones, the way the damp fabric of your uniform clings uncomfortably to your frame.

jungkook watches you from across the room, arms crossed. his brows are furrowed, a line pressed between them like he’s thinking too hard about something. but then, with a quiet sigh, he moves—digging through his drawers before pulling out a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“here,” he murmurs, stepping forward. the weight of the fabric is heavy in your hands, warm from his touch.

you nod, fingers curling into the soft material. you should move, should change, but the cold still lingers, making your movements slow, sluggish. your hands tremble slightly as you try to unbutton your shirt.

jungkook notices.

his jaw flexes. then—hesitation, brief but there. he shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck before exhaling sharply.

“c-can you h-help me?” you mumble, voice quieter than you mean for it to be.

jungkook almost freezes.

his dark eyes flicker to yours—searching, uncertain. there’s a moment where you think he’s going to refuse, to shake his head and tell you to do it yourself. but then, without a word, he steps closer.

his fingers brush against yours, and you swear you feel the way he swallows, like he’s trying to keep his breathing steady. he undoes the buttons carefully—too carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll do something wrong. like this is wrong.

but it’s not.

it’s everything but wrong.

the warmth of his touch ghosts over your skin, and it sends a shiver up your spine, but you’re not sure if it’s from the cold anymore.

when he reaches the last button, you turn around, giving him your back.

another pause. a sharp inhale.

and then, just as delicately, he undoes the clasp of your bra.

he doesn’t move immediately. he lingers—just for a second—before he clears his throat and takes a step back. you slip the hoodie over your head, drowning in the scent of him. it’s warm, comfortable, safe.

by the time you turn around, jungkook has already looked away, jaw tense, ears tinged red.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

instead, he moves towards his tiny kitchenette, grabbing a mug.

“want something warm?”

“sure.”

“tea okay?”

“do you have hot chocolate?” you ask, not expecting much.

he chuckles as his response and heats up the water. you watch him work, settling into the space, still learning what it means to be in each other’s presence like this. it’s new, but it’s something.

as the water boils, you glance around his dorm. it’s surprisingly neat, nothing out of place—except for the small, intricate statues scattered across his shelves. they catch your eye, delicate yet sturdy, molded with careful hands.

“i made them,” jungkook says, catching your gaze.

your brows lift in surprise. “really?”

he nods, setting the hot water in front of you before rubbing at his wrist absentmindedly. as you reach for it, you stare at the steaming cup. jungkook waves his hand on top, and suddenly the water turns into a roasted dark brown.

you sniff it, and can’t help but smile.

hot chocolate.

you take a sip happily, and jungkook can’t help but let his lips curve into a soft smile.

“so, pottery?” you ask, placing the mug down.

“pottery helps.”

you step closer, eyes scanning over each one. that’s when you notice it—among the different sculptures, there’s a recurring shape. petals, curved and detailed, layered in a way that’s intentional.

"helps... what?"

jungkook lifts his hands, crunching his fingers together. "some times they feel... stiff. sometimes, they feel really loose. almost all the time, i feel like i have no control over them. pottery helps me feel a sense of control. like i know what i'm doing. like i know what i'm capable of."

"you don't know what you're capable of?" you ask.

he shrugs. "for the most part, yeah. i do. other times... i'm just as lost as you."

you pause.

"you think i'm lost?"

he tilts his head at you. "you don't talk about it... but i'm your soulmate, remember? i can feel it."

"you feel it?" your eyes widen.

he blinks at you.

"just because you're the princess doesn't mean you have to know everything all at once," jungkook tells you gently. "you don't have to say the words, but it's pretty clear. especially with the shit you pull."

you glare at him.

"i don't—"

"jumping into lakes, throwing parties, the shield—"

"that was to protect you!" you reason.

he nods at you. "at what cost? you destroyed the garden. your parents were furious. if i wasn't your soulmate, they would've kicked me out of the divinity."

you huff at him.

"they can't do that."

"they could," jungkook breathes. "and you like to dance on their boundaries lines... you pretend like it's not a tightrope they have you on so you do stupid shit to—"

"to fall from grace."

you blink at him.

"why would i want to do that?"

jungkook shrugs.

"divinity pressure? lack of self awareness? self doubt? free will?" he says casually. as if he's not suggesting your inner conflicts accurately. "maybe you're more afraid of failing them than the world... that's why you're trying to fuck up now... so you save the world and trade yours."

you stare at him blankly.

"or rowoon was right," he offers a lazy smile. "maybe you're just clumsy."

you let out a breath of relief. slightly unsure of what to feel after his entire analysis of you. the mood shifts back to lightheartedness when you clear your throat.

“so... you like tiger lilies?” you ask, fingers brushing over one of them.

jungkook hums, leaning against the counter.

“it’s my birth flower.”

you turn to face him. he’s watching you, expression unreadable.

“i think it fits me,” he continues, voice quieter now. “the meaning behind it, i mean.”

your brows furrow. “what’s the meaning?”

jungkook exhales through his nose, a short laugh.

“please give me love.”

the words hang in the air between you. there’s something heavy about them, something raw beneath the way he says it.

you shift, hesitant, before speaking again.

“my grandparents and parents always gift me tiger lilies on my birthday,” you admit softly. “they have for as long as i can remember. jin’s grandparents… had a vision of me during my mom’s pregnancy, and it was this golden glowing tiger lily…”

jungkook swallows, his jaw flexing.

“they thought it meant fate,” you continue. “that i’d be bound to fire itself—something wild, something consuming. something passionate and resilient.”

jungkook’s fingers twitch at his sides.

you let out a quiet breath, gaze dropping to the flower in your palm.

“i… i think it means you.”

silence.

then, jungkook shifts beside you.

you’re still cold.

you shiver, and he turns as if to grab the blanket from his bed—but before he can move, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

he stops.

you stare at each other, the invisible string between you pulling, stretching, glowing.

then, without a word, jungkook opens his arms.

you step into them.

moments pass, and you two are drifting to sleep.

jungkook's hands are in your hair, his fingers threading through the strands in slow, soothing motions, helping you relax. the quiet hum of the room settles around you, warmth pressed against warmth, and your breathing syncs with his, steady and unhurried.

you feel the weight of his arm drape over your waist, pulling you closer. instinctively, you press into him, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek grounding you. there’s a calm to it, a certainty that neither of you name, but it lingers between you like an unspoken truth.

jungkook rests his chin lightly against the top of your head.

"you really think it means me?"

you hum. "i know so."

he doesn’t answer right away, just tugs the blanket over the both of you, wrapping you in warmth. then, quietly—so quietly you almost miss it—he says, "i... i tried making other things. vases. bowls. hell, i even tried making a rose or two… but whenever the clay was in my hands, it was always tiger lilies."

you close your eyes, letting his voice settle deep in your chest. "yeah?"

"yeah," he murmurs, pressing a small, absentminded kiss to your temple. "like every petal i molded was a thread, tying me to you."

your breath hitches, but jungkook doesn’t say anything else. he just holds you closer, steady and sure, like he already knows you’re not going anywhere.

and maybe that’s the meaning of it all.

not fate, not visions, not anything preordained.

just this.

just warmth, just the quiet way he holds you like you belong to each other.

still, the weight of his words lingers in your chest, stirring something you can’t quite name. he sees you—really sees you—and it leaves you feeling a little exposed, like he’s reached into the parts of yourself you don’t know how to explain.

you shift slightly, tucking yourself deeper into his embrace, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing. his fingers are still in your hair, idly tracing through the strands, slow and soothing. it should be comforting. and it is. but there’s something else, too—something that makes your thoughts drift, keeps your mind just a little too awake.

jungkook exhales, his chin resting lightly against your head. you feel the warmth of it, the quiet steadiness of his presence.

"go to sleep, princess," he murmurs. "i'm here."

you hum in response, but your mind still lingers on everything left unsaid. on the truth of his words, on the way they settle deep in your bones.

maybe he's right.

maybe you are lost.

maybe you have been for a while.

but for now, in his arms, with his breath against your skin and his heartbeat steady under your palm, you can pretend you're not.

and eventually, lulled by the warmth of him, you drift into sleep—half distracted, half at peace.

[castielscaplan]

Misery in My Heart

Summary: Sam confronts you when he assumes you're sleeping with his brother.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, (but not really), angst, happy ending, miscommunication

WC: 1,088 Words!

Read on Ao3!

--

You could feel Sam's eyes on you. It had been happening for the last couple of days, ever since you started spending more time with Dean. You had to admit, there was something easy about the way Dean made you laugh, the way his presence seemed to make everything a little less heavy. It had been a few long weeks on the road with the Winchesters, and you just needed someone to talk to. You needed someone who understood the weight of what you all did—someone who could crack a joke to lift your spirits when it seemed like the world was falling apart.

But Sam... Sam hadn’t taken kindly to it.

You didn’t understand it at first. He was your partner in this fight, your friend, the person who had been with you through thick and thin. So why was it that whenever you spent time with Dean, Sam started pulling away? Why did he look at you like you were doing something wrong, like you were betraying him? It didn’t make sense.

The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. Every time you walked into a room, Sam’s gaze would immediately narrow. His posture would stiffen, his shoulders tensing as if preparing for something. The distance between you two felt like an insurmountable wall, and the more you tried to bridge it, the farther he seemed to pull away.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself that maybe he was just having a bad day, that maybe the weight of hunting and the constant danger was getting to him. But as the days wore on, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

It was that night when it all came to a head. Dean was sitting at the table, flipping through some old lore book, while you were on the couch, trying to relax after a long day. Sam had been in and out of the room, pacing, avoiding eye contact with you. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

"Sam," you called out gently, hoping to break the tension. "Are we okay? You’ve been... distant."

He stopped in his tracks, his jaw tightening at your words. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, his eyes flicked to Dean, who was completely oblivious, too focused on the book in front of him to notice the storm brewing in Sam’s eyes.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Dean lately," Sam said, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it.

You blinked in confusion, wondering where this was going. "Yeah, we’ve just been talking, Sam. You know, just... having some down time. We’ve all been through a lot lately."

Sam’s eyes darkened. "You think I don’t notice, [Y/N]? I see how you look at him. The way you laugh at his jokes. The way you two seem so comfortable together." He stepped forward, his fists clenching. "I can’t believe you’d do this."

You froze, your stomach dropping as realization hit. "Sam, what are you talking about?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"I’m talking about you two!" he snapped. "You’ve been sneaking around behind my back, haven’t you? Spending time with him, laughing with him, while I’m over here trying to hold it all together, trying to keep things from falling apart, and you—"

"Sam!" you cut him off, standing up abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest. "I’m not cheating on you. I’m not doing anything behind your back! You’ve been acting like I’m doing something wrong, and I don’t know why. I’ve been talking to Dean, yes, but that’s it."

Sam’s eyes narrowed, the hurt in them cutting through you like a knife. "So, you expect me to believe that? After everything we’ve been through? You think I’m just going to sit here and pretend it’s nothing? It’s obvious, [Y/N]. You two have something. I can see it."

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as your chest tightened with the weight of his accusations. "No, Sam," you said, your voice soft but firm. "We don’t have anything. Dean’s my friend, just like you are. But you... you’ve been acting like I’m doing something wrong. Why are you so jealous? Why do you think I’d ever hurt you like that?"

Sam didn’t respond right away. His gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his own doubts was too much for him to carry. "I don’t know," he admitted quietly. "I just... I saw you two laughing together, and it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I was losing you."

Your heart shattered at his words. You took a few steps closer, your voice gentle now, trying to ease the hurt that had been building between you. "Sam, you’ll never lose me. You’re not losing me to Dean, or to anyone else. You’re the one I want. You’ve always been the one I want."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with pain, confusion, and regret. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice breaking. "I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve known better than to let my jealousy get in the way of us. I just... I didn’t want to lose you."

You took his hand gently in yours, squeezing it softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You haven’t lost me, Sam. You won’t. But you have to trust me. You have to trust that I’m not going anywhere. That what I feel for you is real, and I’m not going to hurt you."

For a moment, Sam didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he nodded, his hand tightening around yours as if grounding himself in the reality of your words.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "I let my fears get the best of me."

You shook your head, lifting his chin so he’d meet your gaze. "It’s okay, Sam. We’ll work through it. But you have to talk to me. You can’t keep everything bottled up inside."

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded again. "I know. I’ll do better. I’ll trust you."

You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. "We’re in this together. Always."

Sam leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. "I don’t deserve you."

"Maybe not," you said with a teasing smile, "but you have me anyway."

He chuckled lightly, his eyes finally warming as he pulled you into a gentle hug. And in that moment, you both knew that no matter how messy things got, you could always find your way back to each other.

--

//Please don't hesitate to reblog! //

[ysrjune]

Could u please do a dallas x childhood bsf/first gf where she moves to tulsa, totally clueless to the fact that thats where dallas ran off to. And at the end they get back toghether n some smut maybe?? :) Oh n btw they were each others first kiss n allat, until dallas turned hood.

[ “I WAS ONLY 17 WHEN WE FIRST TRIED THINGS #📍

#🕶 WHEN SHE FIRST MADE ME FEEL LIKE A MAN ” ]

[ I lowkey forgot like half of dallys lore, sorry that I got a few things wrong (I think) im deadass too lazy to get my book out and read it to get my stuff right rn </3. I didn’t add smut cause I haven’t been feeling it lately, sorry anon 😞 hope its still good enough though! + I dont really like this I rushed it cause I had it in my drafts 4 so long.. ]

ENJOY ! ♡

Dallas Winston, your first boyfriend.. sort of. You two had been really close ever since you met when you were 10. By age eleven, he was your first kiss. Dallas was such a flirt, and you couldn’t resist when he asked for a kiss after a long day of hanging out. For the next two years, the both of you were seen everywhere together when he wasn’t getting into trouble. Regular trouble. Before he became a hooligan. Talking back to his parents, Bad grades, Pulling pranks.. that kind of stuff.

One day, he just dissappeared. You were looking around for him in the places he'd usually be in, but nothing. You even worked up the courage to go and ask his buddies if they had seen him. The older boys were tough and mean looking, but they were decent in attitude with the ladies. "Naw. he didn't tell ya?" One of them with shaggy brown hair and green eyes with a scar next to one of them asks you. "Police are after him. He fleed last night, little lady." The boy brings a cigarette to his mouth.

"That's rough," a boy you were familiar with, named James chuckles. "Dally, just up and left without telling his girl. What a shame." He shakes his head. That was the last time you ever heard of Dallas.

You had forgotten about it quick. Well, not forget.. but never thought about it again unless someone would bring up stuff like "who was your first kiss?" or "have you ever had a boyfriend?" answering those questions didn't hurt, either. Dallas wasn't even a real boyfriend. He was just a friend. Not even a great one, either. He was just a funny guy who kept you company.

"Forgetting" about him was easy because now that he was gone, guys had the guts to ask you out. They never did before because they knew Dallas. They knew he liked you and if they tried anything, he'd probably try to fight them or something. One boy in particular named Brandon Lawrence caught your eye. He was a little bit taller, black hair and green eyes, pale with rosy cheeks. He was handsome and really nice.

Brandon was your boyfriend of 4 years before you had to move.

"Tulsa?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Ain't that in Oklahoma?" Brandon asks with a hint of worry in his tone. "Yeah, it is.." You say in a gentle tone, smoothing out the wrinkles in your long skirt. "Baby, that's like a thousand miles from here! How am I gonna see you? You can't go!" Brandon didn't mean it in a 'you can't leave me, I won't allow it.' kind of way. He wasn't like that. "Well, that's what I wanted to talk about.. we have to break up. It’s not gonna work out."

—

When you moved to Tulsa, everything seemed so.. boring. There wasn't much to do.. especially since you knew nobody there. The first couple of weeks, you stayed in the house, watching tv, reading, cleaning—literally anything but going outside to socialize. Your family would be classified as 'Socs'. Your parents weren't filthy rich, but they were nowhere near as poor as the Greasers.

Men that your father worked with warned him about the Greasers. How they were hoods and no good. "It's best for you to stay inside," your father told you one day at dinner. "A little lady like you has no buisness being out in the street with those low-lifes." Whatever, you thought. It's not like you had any desire to go out anyway.

But unfortunately one day your mother sent you to buy a few things from the nearby mini-mart. With no fuss, you obey. It had been a while since you've been in the sun, so why not? Plus, it wasnt that far of a walk.

On your walk, a few other Soc guys your age hit on you while you made your way. A few girls judged, others smiled, thinking you were so pretty. You felt self conscious even if there were a few girls who thought you were gorgeous. Maybe it really is better to stay inside instead of going out and making a fool of yourself.

You were only a crosswalk away from the mart when you heard a group of men laughing. But there was one guy who had an awful laugh. Annoying, loud.. was it? Theres no way. You look over at the men walking across the street. Yup. It was exactly who you thought it was: Dallas Winston.

He was so much taller and muscular than the last time you saw him. One of the guys he was with noticed you staring, and what did he do? He told Dal. The brunette looks over, not recognizing you. But he did think you were pretty. You cross the street, passing by them and into the mart without looking at them.

Oh, how you hoped he wouldn't follow you in.. but he did. And he was quick with what he wanted to say. "You from 'round these parts, sweetie? Never seen you before." He checks you out while you pick out a few oranges. "I just moved here," you respond gently. "Moved from New York. How come you never wrote me?" You look back at him, meeting his confused expression. "What?" He asks.

"Its me, Dallas." He stares at you like your crazy, but he was also trying to figure out who you were. Finally, he gets it after a minute. "Oh my God," He shakes his head. "What're you doing here?" He smiles and punches your arm in a friendly manner. "Never thought I'd see ya again."

"Yeah, neither did I." you respond.

You spent the rest of the day catching up.. privately, of course. He told you why you couldn't be seen together. "Im a dirty Greaser, and you're a squeaky clean Soc." he explained. You didnt exactly understand, but you guessed it was a class thing.

He told you that the reason he flew was because he was going to get arrested again. He had done something really bad, but he didn't want to say what it was. "Mm," you nod your head. "Well, atleast I didn't go my whole life without seeing you again."

"I thought about you a lot." He confessed. "I wanted to say something before leaving, but I couldn't. I didn't have the time.. and I didnt write cuz.. I dont know. I dont have a real reason." He shrugged. "Sorry." He had a soft touch to him. Definitely not normal. Dallas had already told you about how he's big trouble and gets IN to big trouble. How hes a big tough guy and doesnt need anybody.. and you believed him.

"Hey, she needs to go, man." Two-bit, his friend calls out. "Cant have her here too long, pal. Darry don't know she's here." He says and goes back inside the house. "Shit, he's right.. Darry gets off of work soon. Gotta get you outta here." He walks ahead, expecting you to follow.

"Look, I know you probably expected more, but I dunno what to say. Nice to see you again?" He tells you. Yes, it upset you, but how could you blame him? He's always been a little awkward, and he probably had stuff to do. He has a life here, and you don't. "Yeah, okay.." You nod. "I should be going." You clutch your bags full of stuff a little tighter. "I'll see you around."

"Maybe."

[kendrysaneela]

Let’s go through the events of Severance from Helena’s POV cause it’s wild from Helena’s POV as well as Helly’s. (I’m just going by memory so I may miss a few things or mix up the timeline a bit) I am not moralizing any of Helena’s actions cause this is just from her POV.

You get (presumably) coerced into splitting your consciousness in half by your abusive father to serve the cult you were raised in.

You then get the brain surgery and then you wake up in a hallway. Millchick says it’s cause you need time to adjust. But it’s okay because sometimes this just happens you’re not trying to leave.

Then you keep ending up on the other side of the door! Millchick comforts you and tells you about how grateful he is that you’re here and you’re happy to get any approval at all even if it is from your family’s cult. Maybe you’ll get some approval from your father.

Then you run through the door MORE! You’re pretty sure at this point that Millchick is lying to you when he says your innie is realizing she does want to be there but you run back through anyway.

Your innie asks to resign you reject that resignation (whether that was Helena’s decision or the board’s is not yet something we know)

Then on a later day you wake up in the elevator and your hair is all messed up your wrist is bandaged up and your makeup is running and you feel just such DEEP exhaustion but you don’t know why

Then you show up on another day and you’re in an elevator with a cd from a camcorder in your hands you watch it and your innie is asking to resign again. But this time she’s threatening your fingers??

So you record a video back (whether those were Helena’s words or words placed in front of her to say by the board yet to be seen)

THEN you wake up in an elevator GASPING for air not knowing what’s happening. I guess your innie tried to KlLL you??

The you’re forced to go back so when you do you crouch in the corner of the elevator in panic before you turn into your innie

THEN later you’re getting ready to do a speech about how great Severance is (you certainly haven’t had a good time but the board demands you do this so you’re gonna have to fake it)

Then all of a sudden you wake up being pulled off stage by Cobel you don’t even remember getting on the stage!

And you’re told that your innie took you over and said a bunch of bad stuff about Severance onstage so after your father insults you for a while you then you’re forced to read an embarrassing script in front of the whole country or the whole world talking about how you drank too much and thought it was a funny joke at the time.

THEN. You’re looking over footage of Helly who is your other consciousness and you see her kissing Mark. You see her being more free and more loved than you ever have. So you rewind that kiss over and over again.

You’re told you have to go back down there to the severed floor but it’s okay you can pretend to be Helly you don’t actually have to be her. And you actually are having a good time? You are having fun with them you’re feeling free youre feeling loved for the first time in your life, you’re making jokes about your family’s ridiculous lore it’s awesome. You’re trying to soak in the love they all have for Helly because you’ve never felt love and you don’t understand you can’t steal love because you’ve never had love before. You come clean with one of the innies about your self hatred.

Then one of the innies finds out you’re Helena and tries to DROWN YOU. To get back your other consciousness that lives in your body your innie who they love more than you. You thought they liked you but now you’re realizing that they just liked you cause they thought you were Helly you’re still stuck in a loveless life now. And now as a bonus you’re having an identity crisis about how Helly is essentially who you could’ve been if you weren’t weighed down by your family’s name.

Then you’re thinking “I definitely won’t have to go back now obviously I’ll tell my father” then you’re told that no you are going back down and you’re going back as Helly to the place where all of this happened because “The Board appreciates your sacrifice” and no one thinks the trauma you’ve faced so far is actually a big deal not even your father he won’t even talk to you about it. So you go back down against your will to the innie floor again and let the consciousness take you over again.