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syluses · 1 month ago

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father figure

sylus x female reader

he takes you in, he feeds you, he gives you a home when the world around you can no longer make sense of the word- and yet you’re just as much of a grounding force in his life. when the frenzy hits, though, he can’t make heads or tails of anything; all he knows is that you’re a pretty, fleshy thing and he aches to sample it.

content smut/nsfw, daddy kink, dilf/guardian! sylus, so by a stretch it can be pseudocest, noncon, soft! sylus but turns into frenzied! sylus, yandere themes, piv, rough handling, loss of virginity, some angst because of guilt/disillusion, codependency, age gap (but both parties are 18+), biting, dark content, almost 10k words

sidenote i could only resist the catch-22 sylus agenda for so long. it’s not fully canon compliant but its heavily based around it. so yes sylus has his iconic mullet and he’s a lil baby crashout in this. also no this isnt even the sylus bday fic i had in mind but if i dont get that one out in time then this will be the substitute 😣 anways, i hope u enjoy my friends <3

You don’t remember much, growing up. Beyond him, at least.

The world goes to shit with the predators and your parents fade out of the equation- and you’re left alone for much of your youth until an ominous man comes along and takes you under his wing— but only reluctantly.

For a while afterward, you think he still grudges you for the day you, in one way or another, managed to fall under his custody, becoming a knot in his neat web of plans and purposes. Deep down, you got the feeling that he didn’t need you as much as you did him; despite his choosing to keep you around, it was likely more out of guilt than any genuine affection- but you’d decided that was okay.

He saved your life, pulled you from the fire before you could really feel its burn, and you’d be the last to make complaint for your circumstances.

There’d be no circumstances if not for him.

But he tenderizes. It turns to be an open thing, his fondness.

He takes you in when you’re fifteen. Since then- throughout the course of around six years, he’s become softer. Less ambiguous to you. There’s things he keeps under wraps and always will despite the harmless pestering on your end (like questions regarding his work, the silhouettes that trail you both constantly— and the curious glances thrown to the blood on his collar after he returns late in the night). But he’s not longer as obscure to you, his person.

Trust blooms in the parts of you where an impoverished lifestyle of scraping by carved out gaps. And you’re used to hiding- that’s not much different now- but instead of diving for shady alleyways, you find refuge in him.

He’s dangerous. That was established early on; since the first moment you met him, really, knelt before him in fear after grabbing his pant leg for help (an action he mistook for a foolish attempt at pickpocketing), that was obvious.

He’s threatening.

Never to you. Not now.

Sylus is a man of impressive decorum and somehow all the blood coating his hands doesn’t take away from his class— he extends those hands to you, callouses and all, and gives you a patient look as if he’s expecting you to take them.

At sixteen you start calling him dad (more of an accident than anything else- it’s not a conscious thing that compels you to view him as something paternal).

He doesn’t object to it.

Things fall into place in weird ways.

When all the pieces settle, you find yourself looking at a semblance of a home— a safe place that the self-proclaimed beast curated with his own paws through painstaking efforts. (Whether you were fully cognizant of them or not didn’t matter: he tried his damnedest to be what you needed, and could only hope it was enough.)

The two of you are always on the move. He barges into your room panting at night and tells you to hurry and pack a bag, or just outright scoops you up in his arms and tucks you into the car’s backseat seconds before you hear the tires revving off. Your surroundings are perpetually changing around you and yet he remains the same; a citadel, a rock in your life.

Sylus provides an air of safety. Despite it all, the abrupt ‘field trips’ (at least, that’s what he called them when you were a bit younger) taken to ward enemies off your location, the bullets that fling by your periphery on furtive nights out and the red threads that coil behind him like talons- destroying anything before it can so much as harm a hair on your pretty head- you feel safe with him.

Predator or not- he’s good to you, a lighthouse fixed firmly amidst rolling smog and cyclones.

You can’t count a time he’s lost control or been unprepared for a frenzy, and he’s taken the proper precautions to keep you from him whenever he suspects one is coming on. The broken activator just solidifies his vigilance. And he’s instructed you plenty on what to do if he does lose it, God forbid, albeit your agreement to it was utterly uneasy.

He figures he’ll spare you the little horror show, he’d joked just to smooth out the worried crinkle in your brow.

Yet- Figures he’ll spare you your life, is what he doesn’t say, despite it being a shared thought between you both.

He teaches you how to wield a gun early on.

You’d told him you didn’t wanna use it, but something as trivial as guilt had no place in Linkon as it collapsed into decadence and carnal ruin. And something like sympathy, he’d also added, was stupid. An invitation to get yourself killed.

(Silly, that. Silly and hypocritical of the man who takes pity on runts.)

Conversation is kept at a minimum at first, and clipped, but he sprinkles in tips and tricks at self preservation— life hacks in the most literal sense— and he keeps an eye on you. Watching always. He makes sure you’re holding up well and even lets you hold down the fort while he’s gone doing God knows what. It feels like a privilege when he entrusts things to you, no matter how seemingly small.

Sylus is special to you. You love him as a teacher, a protector, a warm chest to snuggle up to on the sofa when you’re restless and can’t sleep but you know he’s downstairs with a cushion waiting—

You love him as a father, too.

Not everything about him is clear to you, though... You learn many things but one you have more difficulty understanding is the way he perceives you.

You don’t know if he loves you as a daughter, or a welcome nuisance, or a stray (because he has a penchant to root for the underdog). At first, you questioned if he even loved you at all.

But you’re older now,… and you see it, the heart he wears on his sleeve to bleed for you. He cares for you. And he’s there for you.

And when he asks you to leave with him- less of a hurried demand now and more of a gentle, imploring breath amidst chittering sounds of crickets and night bugs as he stands as a single shadow against your bed frame—

You take his hand.

✦

Boxes piled in every other corner, the building feels less like a home and more like a warehouse- a very tiny, cozy warehouse, with each of your scents intertwining in the unassuming spaces where you meet.

It’s no feat of architecture- just a small apartment nestled in the innards of the southern district, and it certainly isn’t a product of exorbitant spending (the place is deceptively… humble, for what Sylus can afford), but for what it is, you like it.

You’ve dwelled at several different addresses before, and you expect this arrangement will be more of the same. You stopped mourning over the loss of houses that could’ve been homes some time ago; you bounce between streets and domains like rabbits. However, there’s a strange comfort that builds in your chest as weeks pass and, for this reason or that, your guardian shows no signs of jilting the flat.

One day, he calls you to the living room after you’ve showered, and he sits you down.

You lie in a makeshift cage between his long legs as they hang over the couch, one hand smoothing over your damp hair while the other brushes it through.

He’s never in much of a hurry to speak, so when you reach for the TV remote to fill the silence, and he stops you- you concede to the quiet, knowing whatever he’ll say to break it will be worth some thought.

Still, he seems more contemplative than usual. It warrants pause on your end.

Internally, you consider your belongings- the deliberate choice you made to keep most of them boxed- and find relief in the fact that you’ll have less to pack if Sylus were to inform you right now of another move.

It’s a little sad, but it’s just the way things are. You won’t cry over the hand that you were dealt. If nothing else, you’re just thankful, what with the squeeze this city of sin has on its people, that somewhere along the way, Sylus came to loosen you from it.

You owe him. But he never names his price.

Long, rough fingertips meticulously weaving through your hair, gentle despite the callouses as he twists it into braids, you fall into the belief that he won’t.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but you can’t find much in you to debunk it save for the tiny, deep-rooted fear that one day you’d wake up, and- just like your parents on the day of outbreak- he’d be gone. There was plenty of doubts in your head, but most if not all were born from an old trauma, and Sylus seemed… content, weirdly enough, at your side.

It becomes an easier and easier thing to believe that’s where he’ll remain.

“Sweetie,” he eventually says, “I wanted to… discuss something, with you.”

You perk under his hands, spine straightening. You give him a sidelong glance over your shoulder and find his eyes, a sharp red, surprisingly mellow as they flit across the bridge of your nose, reading your expression carefully.

“What’s wrong?”

That (the instinctive response to believe something’s gone amiss) almost brings a wry smile to his lips, but he wets them a moment later and opens them to speak. “Nothing. Not this time,” he explains smoothly. “You… You’re used to moving around, the both of us are. I’m sure it’s been… tiring, at the best of times.”

“Well,” you start as a reply, but find your speech cropped short because you’ve no real way to deny that: it was exhausting. Of course it was. But wherever he went, you’d follow. That’s just how it’s always been.

Besides, if not fixed firmly at his side- you’d be choosing the hell that is overrun, lawless Linkon; to be tossed back into its maw for the predators or, if you’re more fortunate, a not as brutal death by starvation.

Noting your silence- your agreement- Sylus continues.

He ties off the end of the tuft with a colorful band and moves to work on the other, surprisingly deft. He’s only done your hair a million times- but still, his odd expertise in it was as surprising as it was endearing. The fact that you’re twenty-one now doesn’t change this common arrangement- or the mutual fondness the two of you have for it. You like when Sylus dries or does your hair, and evidently, he does too, for whatever reason.

Maybe it’s just therapeutic for him to feel something soft in his hands. He’s better acquainted with the opposite.

“So what if we were to stay?”

The words take a moment to click.

Because you don’t stay anywhere. You don’t stay, you just run and drive and hide. Live life perpetually on the down low. On the run.

Sylus does not settle.

Still, his voice, thoughtful and velvety, rumbles behind you in a continuous, comforting sound and forces you to take what he’s saying seriously.

“This place- you don’t dislike it, do you? It’s nice. Nothing gaudy or impressive. But it’s… homey,” he muses aloud. “Off the books. You’re safe here. Safer than what the other addresses had to offer, at least.”

You ponder it for all of five seconds before answering. And to be fair it’s not actually hard to; an inner part of you assumed you’d be on the move for all your life, but you’re weirdly pleased at the idea of… not being on the move for all your life.

Some anchorage sounds nice.

You tuck your head to your chest. “I… I think I would like that.”

He perks a bit. You feel it in his hands when they pause, done with their task, and one shifts to rest on your crown.

His knees, flanking either side of you, close in. Without thinking, you latch onto one’s calf and lean into it as you grab the remote. This time he lets you.

“Yeah?” He goes, a little breathless. “Are you sure? You realize it’d be a little more… permanent.”

“Okay.”

Sylus looses a sigh somewhere behind you.

“What I’m getting at is that you’re no longer a little squirt in desperate need of me,” he clarifies in a more pointed tone, and you resist arguing that- you have no time to, really, “so if you want to leave, you can feel free to. Don’t think you’re being shackled here by me.”

For as genuine as his words sound, you quickly cotton onto the expectancy that undercoats them- the mite of something that almost makes you believe he’s waiting for affirmation on your end. A rare thing. Usually it’s the other way around.

It pulls a huff from you, though. Peels of laughter rattle from the screen in front of you (he managed to unpack your TV, but as it stands, most of the house is still pretty bare) but you ignore your favorite show for the moment to turn and frown at him.

You grab his knee while you do, saying, “Of course I don’t think that. If anything, I feel like I’m holding you back.”

Scarlet eyes blink and widen, but just slightly. White hair falls over his brow (his locks loosening from gel after a long day) when he gives his head a tilt. After a beat, he laughs at you, a deep, rumbling sound- and pats your head directly after to fix the flustered knot in your brow.

“Well, I guess we’re both wrong then, hm?

He stoops forward to kiss your cheekbone- a chaste, quick thing- and then he gets up with a grunt to head for the hall.

You watch him with a strange flutter in your chest (one that you label affection; not a wrong guess but it also fails to fully encompass just what he means to you) and stare at the wall even as he disappears behind it.

But he calls over his broad shoulder to you, “Don’t sit too close to the screen, by the way. Someone tends to get headaches when watching cartoons.”

Crossing your arms with a pout, you lean your back into the seat of the couch and splay your legs out on the fluffy rug. You’re glad for that being unpacked, but quickly find yourself planning for the following days and all you’ll have to take out and assemble- which admittedly wasn’t much, but it was still enough to trigger your lazy streak.

Sometimes you just want to lounge around all day and do nothing: a fantasy that feels more possible after your guardian’s suggestion.

You holler back, “Oh, just go to sleep, old man.” Distantly, a door opens, but it doesn’t close.

He’ll be out later.

✦

He doesn’t come out later, contrary to your belief, but his open door does make a little more sense to you when it’s deep into the night and you emerge from your own room, scared, and traipse down the hall.

The remnants of a nightmare that felt too-real grip you. Five fingers on, they don’t let go.

But Sylus- the quasi foreboding man who took you in- knows how to pull you from a pinch.

You seek his warmth as the swath of wooden tiles cooling the balls of your feet blends into carpet- that of his bedroom- navigating in total darkness as you enter.

“Sylus-?” You can’t even get the word out before he startles upright and you hear the clink of something steely and dangerous—

“I-It’s me, daddy!” You assuage quickly, voice a frail, shaken sound that’s made even smaller by the dregs of a bad dream that still hangs fresh over your mind.

Even as the images peter out— claws wrapping around your throat, a dumpster rattling as you and other ragamuffins brawl over veritable trash as food, the roar of a predator as it holds you down, saliva dribbling into your ear— the emotions are harder to shake.

You feel dizzy and a little out of place as he lets out a deep sigh of relief, flicking on the lamplight, and blinks heavily at you.

The fingers that have dipped beneath the mattress retract and return to his lap. You observe it with a relaxing of your shoulders.

Some of the tension fades from him too, but not all of it.

He asks, concern entangled with gravely bits of exhaustion, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

You say nothing, your own voice failing you as you mentally struggle to not only find your thoughts but string them together in a coherent way.

Everything around you was blurry. Felt unstable. A cold, clammy sweat licks up your palms and forehead. The ground beneath you grows a mouth and threatens to swallow you whole- the shadows in the corner ominous and great, watching.

Of course, it was only a nightmare, an unpleasant dream that you’d laugh about and forget easily enough come morning. But right now, it’s not. It’s vivid and horrifying and amalgamating into the atoms of reality to create a special kind of paranoia. It won’t let you sleep tonight.

…Not unless something’s there to hold you, at least.

Sylus’s own voice is groggy, a bit confused. Almost unthinkingly, though, he extends a hand to welcome you.

“C’mere,” he lifts the blanket and you’re instantly drawn to the empty space beside him.

You assume it with eagerness and all but barrel into his chest, punching out a grunt from him before he chuckles faintly, reaching over to pull on the thin, beaded chain. Darkness paints across your surroundings but a small highlight swims in cherry-red eyes as they soften at you.

Strong, lean arms wrap around you, helping you burrow into him without objection.

“Was it a nightmare?” He murmurs just above a whisper, voice warm but rough as the fluffy comforters, the same ones he tucks you both under, hug him back in. “Haven’t had one of those in a while, hm?”

He feels you jerkily nod under the dip of his chin and makes a sighing response. Callous finger pads close around your back and rub little circles there meant to soothe. “S’okay, kitten. It’s over now,” he breathes, languidly pecking your temple with open lips, smearing away the part of your fringe that’s been pasted there by a cold sweat.

He has this weird habit of taking you under his wing despite his serrated edges and the natural intensity of his stone face; right now, you curl up closer to his breast, finding a tenderness he perhaps only reserves for you, and he exhales overhead.

Fears are fast to flee, wrapped up by him. As moments pass, and your erratic heart rate resumes a more normal pace, you sound your gratitude in a low murmur. Vaguely, you wonder if you’d also stirred Sylus from a nightmare of his own upon stumbling into his room, because his own pulse- typically extremely slow- undulates in his sternum.

It thumps against your ear, creating a cadence almost considered fast. A touch uneven and a lot loud.

“…Thank you, daddy,” you mouth against him, nuzzling into his pajamas- a thin, linen shirt that oozes a domesticity you’re hard-pressed to come by.

Beneath your ear— a skip.

“For… for always being there for me.”

It sounds a little sappy, but in the moment, none of that phases you. Evidently- with a low, contented hum emanating from deep within his chest- it doesn’t phase Sylus, either.

You wonder if it’s your imagination or a real, bonafide smile that curves against your head.

“Well, that’s where I belong, isn’t it? At your side,” he murmurs, and after a beat you feel his lips press a kiss to your crown, mild but lingering. “And you belong at mine, if you want it. I’ll always be here for you, sweetie,” he promises, “no matter what.”

Finally, you let your eyes flutter shut.

✦

Weeks pass. They do so pleasantly; slowly, but not in a bad way.

The quiet- mainly the lack of wandering from point A to B all for the sake of anonymity- is a welcome reprieve. Some doubts linger surrounding the agreement you and Sylus came to, but it becomes a more solid idea in your head as days pass without interuption:

This can be home.

So you start acting like it.

When noon hits, you don’t go with Wolfe, Sylus’s most trusted contact, for the usual training session when he swings by- bidding him farewell with a small wave- but instead stay back to work on the house.

Noon comes and goes. The sky turns dusky and your belly howls for food but you pay none of it any mind, too engrossed to care.

Because this is exciting.

You decorate all throughout the day, unwrap furniture from cardboard and feel anticipation swell inside you. You sing and twirl.

Before Sylus returns, you buzz with excitement while picturing his face upon walking in- not to a barren space but to a cozy one- and the rare show of his surprise. It’ll probably be nothing beyond a flare of his eyes or a soft sound of acknowledgement, but you pine for it all the same.

You’d like to make him happy. To make him feel more comfortable, at home. Especially after a long day spent weaseling throughout the blind spots of the city. He’s only allowed so much time to kick off his shoes and relax, and you want to highlight those moments for him.

It’s the least you can do, you think with a small smile, stepping down from a stool to appraise a photo you just hung (one with his hand around your waist, pulling you to his side— a would-be perfect photo if not for the crow that blurs in the corner of the lens).

Focused, you stick your tongue out and square your fingers, closing one eye because that’ll definitely help you make a better judgement on whether or not the frame is straight enough—

It slants sharply when the front door opens and slams.

You jolt, ripped from your small trance as you spin your head towards the entryway, only an iota prepared to run for the hallway and bird dive into the closet- that’s if you even make it in time. Bullets will always be faster than your little legs and if you’re correct in your belief that it’s those shady men who hate Sylus, come to retaliate against him, then there’s no way they’ll deliberate and give you a chance to escape—

Sock-clad feet halt on the floor. The stop in momentum hurls your head inches beyond your axis of balance, but the figure that freezes in the threshold, familiar, tall but hunched over, somehow seems more surprised.

Not at the new touch-ups on the walls and the neat, embellished rooms- no, but at you.

Trudging into the apartment, he looks worse for wear and you take the sight of him in with a different, growing kind of alarm.

Your shoulders ease up, just slightly. It’s not an intruder, a pack of big, unscrupulous men barging in to avenge some grievance related to the assassin who took you in- which is relieving, but the concern is tight in your brow all the same.

When he speaks, his voice is ragged. Half man half animal.

“Sweetie- what are you-?” He cuts himself short to make a sound of displeasure that comes from deep within his throat. Raw, brutal.

“You shouldn’t be here-!” You give a little flinch in response to the ferocity in his tone, phlegm catching in his trachea before he looks down, shakes his head with a hard blink, and stomps into the bulwarks of the apartment.

“Dad, you-?”

Ignoring your startle (perhaps blind to it; you think his mind is on other, more inward matters as something wild glints in his eye- paired with a conflict that worsens with each heaving breath), Sylus grabs your wrist, and he does it tightly.

“There’s no time- I need you to hurry. Help me with my suppressants- now!”

Something clicks in you, then, a distant memory lighting itself from a foggy space of remembrance.

“And kitten, listen to me. If I ever… lose control,” he starts, words a gentle, almost resigned mumble against a backdrop of city sirens and a snarling engine as the car veers into a more secluded road. You stare at his profile with a flicker of unease. But he remains composed, saying as if it’s a topic as simple as the weather, “I need you to handle me,” he glances at you, gaze steady, a brilliant, solid red, even as your mouth opens to bluster out a denial of that possibility.

“But- your suppressants- We can use them—“

“Maybe,” he turns to look out the windshield, at the road ahead. Dust and debris scrape in the wind. Even for the southern district, the place was ratty, but this is where the deal was to be had, and Sylus needed those vials before morning. “But things don’t always go as planned, you know that, sweetie. So… If something ever fails, or I become immune to the dosages— I taught you how to shoot.”

“I- I wouldn’t shoot—!“

He snaps his head over and barks, fingers whiting around the wheel. “You would! You would and you will.”

Startled, your vision blurring despite the hand you close firmly over your breast- as if balling your emotions in your palm, holding them at bay- you swallow. Scarlet eyes ripple, irises dancing around a black orb as it shrinks and becomes frantic. Unease flutters in your chest as his cold instructions turn over in your mind- but for all his hammering of them into you- you don’t bite the hand that feeds. It’s just not in your nature.

You don’t even bite the hand if it asks you to.

Begs.

Noting your shock, the stunned expression that barely masks a confused kind of hurt, your guardian blinks. Sighs and looks away.

Exhaust blows out from the back of the vehicle; you catch it in dark tails from the rear view mirror, in whiffs as the air around you becomes sour and noxious.

“I taught you to shoot,” he says again after a beat. Softer, this time. “When it gets to the point where it really matters,… don’t let your daddy down, okay? Please, sweetie. Just… agree on this one thing.”

For once in a handful of years, not considered easy by any means- but enjoyable at his side- you stare at the man who took you in and find him cruel.

You dip your chin, more out of hurt than anything else, highly uncertain as dread contricts your lungs, and nod.

It does what it was meant for: It placates him. You think it even convinces him.

He’s putting all his faith in it, in that wordless assent you’d given him years ago, for the sake of the present.

Though, Sylus still thinks it’s manageable. That there’s still a shot that this frenzy- triggered by an enhancer after a gloved hand squeezed glass to the point of bleeding, vindictive and bent on getting the last laugh- can be resolved. So you hurry to lay him on the couch as his breathing picks up, scuttling towards his room before coming back with arms full of a briefcase.

You crash to the rug and prop the case on the coffee table, fishing out a syringe before sidling up to him and taking his arm.

With some resistance- and a grunt that sounds more wolfish than man- he lets you, and you line up the needle with his arm. You say a curse under your breath when tears smear across your lids and make fuzzy the room around you.

“Hurry,” he rasps.

Shakily, you dig at the crook of his arm with your thumb to plump up the vein before- with little coordination- you feed the needle in with a sharp breath.

It mingles with Sylus’s as he makes an uncomfortable noise, the glittery fluid disemboguing into his bloodstream.

Split seconds feels like eons.

Time moves slow as molasses and you chew on your lip until something like metal sours your tongue.

Between fingers that tremble wildly just to keep it inside him, steadily injecting him with the suppressant, and a heart that pounds with uncertainty in your ears— given no assurance whatsoever that you’re not too late to pacify him— you don’t realize all the gawking on his part.

The ardency in his gaze, fleetingly tender, as it remains fixed to you. Some unspoken battle happening behind it.

…The darker thing, with a name you can’t assign, is winning out.

He feels it, too; conscious thought lending itself to his baser person— instincts, ugly and primal and overwhelming— all against his will.

“You were supposed to be with Wolfe,” He forces out with great difficulty, sweat beading his temple. He’s hot to the touch, skin like a kiln, baking your fingertips as they hover over him.

Light as feathers, you still feel the burn.

“I would’ve never came.”

Thickly, you swallow, rubbing his forearm soothingly even as the veins there bulge and glow, putting a fright in you that you do well to ignore.

He needs you right now. He needs you and you won’t fail him.

“Shh, shh,” you hush, folding your upper half over the sofa to plant your head against his shoulder.

One hand, between your bodies, gradually plies him with the suppressant; the other slips to the nape of his neck and intwines with his mullet, tugging softly.

He lets out a soft sound at that, temporarily appeased.

“It’s okay, daddy. It’s okay.”

You need it to be true.

For what it’s worth, he does seem just a touch comforted by that.

It’s not lasting.

He’s dangerous, and he knows. He’s losing out to the predator instinct, and he knows and he’s terrified but he remains rigid. Has to.

“I want you to inject all of it into my veins,” a sonorous voice rings at your ear, dry, open lips moving against your head as he smushes a kiss there. You think it’s more subconscious a move than anything as the cognizant trace in him fades out, albeit you still appreciate it.

A large hand, hanging off the couch- shaking not because it’s weak but because it’s trying its best to be- shifts to rest over your back.

He continues, “And then I want you to leave me. If we’re lucky, I’ll pass out and ride it through that way…”

Clenching your jaw, you nod against his neck, under his chin, and bite down on a whimper.

“You’ll be okay, daddy. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be all better. The suppressants w-will make you sleepy, and—“

Something surges in him, then, a growl cutting through your eardrums as you flinch back and he- before the second little vial even reaches the halfway tick- knocks it from your hands.

It collides with the coffee table and shatters.

The rug- the fluffy one you’d happily picked out with him some months back- darkens with a splotch you can’t easily scrub out.

Like an animal in a cage he’s revolted. You’re not naive enough to not see the movement for what it is; no matter how watered down, it’s still a version of it: a beast lunging.

Whatever’s left of his conscience is just barely barring that monster off, but as you fall back on your ass and gape at him, you realize with horror he will not turn out as the victor.

Fear brews in your belly. Butterflies swarm the pit of it, leaving nausea in the wake of their wings as they make quick work of your bravery- or the pretense you held of it.

A drop of blood pricks from the crook of his arm, the syringe made useless as it lay broken on the carpet: you watch it with shock, numbness almost, before looking up to him.

He forces himself to go recumbent, five fingers splayed over his face. The gaps in them, though, reveal grimacing, pearly teeth.

Canines bared no different than a hungry predator, defensive and bold.

Unlike you, very real in their display.

For a number of seconds, you do not breathe. Eyes wide and scared.

“Go,” he croaks out after a moment.

It takes longer than it should to register.

When it does, you gasp as if stirred from a bad dream. It’s precious- the sign he gives that he’s still in control- and you don’t take it for granted. You rise to wobbling knees, frenetically glancing between the dazzling shards and his heaving chest.

You extend a cautionary, worried hand, something in you utterly wrecked at the sight of him- your savior, your shield, your father figure- crumpled in on himself.

“Daddy—“

“Go!”

Silence strobes across the living room, but just for a second. It bites into you where it settles.

Unthinkingly, you turn. His words and their grating tone cut better than any knife ever could. Tears clinging to your lashes, you steel your legs (because they’re gelatinous beneath you), whip around, and start for the front door.

You don’t know where you’ll go apart from Sylus tonight, but that’s all to be figured out later after you calm your nerves down a bit and convince yourself it’ll all be fine—

The couch groans atop its wooden frame.

Suddenly, a hand snatches around your wrist, scorching hot, and when you swirl around, his head is bowed.

A whit of hope strings you along—

“D-Dad?” You breathe, “Are you okay now?”

Scarlet eyes peer up from a silvery curtain of hair, aflame, near glowing, and you let out a gasp.

—And drops you.

“I thought you wanted to help little old me? So…” he muses darkly, “where are you going?”

The reality of your situation takes a second to catch up to you.

Something that can accurately be called fear clamps in your chest— not for what he could be but for what he is now. Some change has happened in him, some sickness taken root, and until it passes, you’ll be victim to the beast that wears your savior’s face.

Stunned, you listen. “Has your father ever left you hanging? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same?”

“Sylus-“

He tuts, a belittling sound. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. C’mere, kitten, sit.” Long fingers entwine around your wrist and you’re reminded of wolf paws trampling over twigs in forests. It’s not unbearably tight a grip, not yet, at least, but he’s certainly applying more pressure than what he generally does.

You wet your dry lip, dread wringing you from the inside out. You feel oddly parched.

“But Sylus- you’re not-“

“Sit,” he suddenly growls, something undeniably dark glittering in his eye.

You’re without opportunity to argue or even try to reason with him, because he yanks you into his lap and loops his arms around your middle.

You liken yourself to a bird in a cage. His limbs your bars and your soft sounds of fear like twittering.

Using the last of your rational thought- your brain losing ground to fight or flight instinct- you try to think back to his instructions (funereal as they were), but find yourself creating other options. Even if you did want to shoot Sylus like he’d made you promise all those years ago, it’s not like you’ve got a gun lying around for it… No, the one he gave you (the one you keep as a token of him, like a locket) is sandwiched between your mattress and its framework.

A-And that’s where it’ll stay. No matter what.

Because you don’t bite the hand that feeds. You don’t bite the hand that feeds even after it pleads to be.

You decide, right then, that it’s better to play dead.

Sat perfectly still in his lap, your plan succeeds for all of half a minute before a hitch appears. To begin with, it was one born out of desperation, with low expectancy- but damn it all you still flinch when you become aware of his teeth and your proximity to them.

Fangs brush against your throat, uncomfortably sharp. It raises alarm in you, but it’s quickly lost in the other warning bells clanging in your skull.

You shiver. To your horror, Sylus chuckles.

“Are you scared I’ll hurt you?” He murmurs, breath searing your neck where it fans against it. It’s labored and fast; the depravity amplified against your earlobe.

Somewhere in you, you find the courage to answer. “A- A little,” you feebly admit. “I couldn’t get all the suppresants in.”

Sylus hums, low and satisfied, but you don’t quite miss the undercurrent of decadence in it- as much as you might want to.

“Good,” he quips. “Frenzies feel so much better without the pushback. You shouldn’t have injected any in me in the first place.”

“But you said-“

“It’s in my DNA to want to bite. It’s a little cruel to keep me from that… don’t you think?”

A debate happens within you, short-lived but tumultuous. You deliberate on answering because really, how can you? What is there to say that can temper him when he’s like this? A predator in the flesh.

And the thing about predators is that, somewhere in the equation, there must be prey—

But no. No- you refuse to believe he’ll succumb to that animalism, not when he’s more or less like blood to you. Your trust for him runs as thick as it, anyway. Blood is thicker than water, and poison, too- so the toxic lilt in his voice means nothing. Nothing at all.

You swallow, unable to offer any real reply. “I- I-“

“No,” he snips, a palm drifting lower. Positively impatient. Ever the obliging, albeit sometimes brusque man, the Sylus you know is nowhere to be found.

“Tell daddy what you really think of him. Think he’s a monster, don’t you?”

Finally, he nips at your neck, cutting himself loose from the self restraint he stubbornly moored himself to, groaning at the softness. Seamlessly, he suckles a hickey into your throat and you mewl.

The single thread of whatever the hell it is that’s keeping him at bay- his buried conscience, perhaps- snaps.

He makes a hot, ferocious sound, pawing at your breast now, drawing a startled yelp from you that his gums throb at. “Should he act accordingly? Hm? Use your words, kitten.”

Words? No. No, you think actions would suit you better- he’s not in his right mind right now and you need to leave like he’d ordered before your image of him, the one you’d put on a precious pedestal, collapses.

Daringly, you get up to try and bolt out again, mind single as your eyes dart to the front door.

If you can just leave the apartment, maybe you can lose him in the weaving, shady paths that are labyrinthine Linkon. Surely, he’ll find someone else, someone deserving (culpable men are not hard to come by here), and make them his glorified plaything instead.

By the time the sun rises, he’ll have woken from this awful, twisted trance—

He lets out a roar, angrily snatching you back onto the couch.

This time, though, there’s no semblance of freedom as he pins you under him, hovering close enough to bump his long nose against yours as he grips your hips tight enough to bruise.

“Nawh, you wound me, sweetie… And here I thought…” he rasps, ruby eyes glossing as the lid droops, blatantly ogling your jostling breast, “You had daddy’s better interest in mind.”

That’s unclear. But yours? Your better interest?

There it is again- blitzing across your frazzled conscience, stark against the dreadful haze: Play dead.

You do.

The blow will come, that’s definite. But if you play your cards right, maybe, a small hope in the back of your head says, you can lessen it.

You go limp beneath him and his hands. Even as they grope your tits through your shirt before he quickly foregoes that charade in favor of ripping open the collar, you remain still. You clamp your eyes shut and bite down on a pathetic sound.

Each and every one of your intentions evade riling him up, and yet your mere presence, pliant but shivering beneath him, does a good enough job at that on its own.

Still, as his energy builds into a devastating force, you’re quietly thankful for the amount you did manage to get in with the syringe. Likely, you realize with a heavy swoop of your heart, the determining factor in your life.

H-How much was it again-? Two vials? Or a vial and a half-?

Briefly, you glance over to the table where the case lay, open but half empty, and contemplate something stupid before the man- beast- above you laughs. Asserts himself in your face.

He’s all you see when he says, “I guess you don’t have your better interest in mind, either. Hm, kitten?”

And you’re all he smells, feels, knows, as he ruts his clothed cock against your thigh and you feel the swollen bulge. You shiver again. He’s really, really hard and is he actually planning to fuck you with that-?

You?

The pleasured, but not close to satisfied, grunt he makes says yes. Yes, absolutely he’s going to fuck you.

Rip off your panties after uncivilly pulling off your shorts and stuff his flushed length inside with a—

—“Fuck, kitty!”

He’s met with resistance.

And you forget your plan completely, terror taking over entirely as you begin to wriggle and plead for him to hold off, to reconsider— you’re a virgin and he’s mean and given your relationship, you two were never supposed to end up parallel to one another on the couch, desire brewing between your naked bodies. Well, you’re naked- or growingly; but Sylus isn’t.

Scraps of leather cling to sturdy, lean muscle, but he’s broiling in them still, skin licked with sweat. Evidently, heat has fried his neurons- his memory of himself- too.

“Please, daddy, I- I’ll—“

Oh, break. You’ll one hundred percent break but you keep from saying it aloud because you suspect it’ll warm his blood all the more. A correct guess, but it’s a little late for taking back what you did say. Sylus cottons onto it and groans.

“Don’t do this, Sylus,” you try to remind him of who he really is, even if your voice is small and untrustworthy. “Y-You don’t have to. J-Just remember who you are- who I am!”

His precious girl.

Once, he’d even said, his treasure.

Your heart stings.

Taking out the engorged, weeping head of him and rubbing it at your mostly-dry entrance (in hopes to prime it after failing to push his way inside), he’s hardly lucid as you babble.

Cute… But unimportant, he decides.

…Yet, he does somehow find it in him to look up, and you do find a trace of… something in him, human-like and guilty, when he does. It’s quicksilver. Gone when you blink.

Your pussy lips try to spit him out but it just works him up further.

The darkness in his gaze returns in tenfold.

He manages a scoff. “Oh, c’mon. Of course I remember~ You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you?” He hums meanly, suddenly immune to the wide, kicked look you send him. It’s always done wonders on him before, but you’re met with failure.

“So how come you can’t take his cock? I know you could, if you just tried a little harder. Relaaax. Ease up. From now on, someone’s gonna have to be the calm one between us when I get into my frenzies. You can be that, right?” That sentence instills dismay in you for many reasons, but you have no time to think on them.

He husks, “Now, go on. Help guide me in.”

You don’t reach a hand down between you two like perhaps he wanted, but you do hear a faint squelch right then as he cants his hips forward an inch, and it does make you gasp. Despite yourself, you slick up for him- for God knows what reason, maybe just as self preservation or some deeper, pitiful attempt to please him- and it becomes obvious.

Sylus notes it with a shaky breath that blends with his other labored, ragged ones, and a grin that’d better suit a bastard.

He delves inside, by a small miracle, but you can’t stop from crying when he reaches halfway in and blood rings around the thick base of him. Inwardly, you try to separate the sin from the face, telling yourself between strained breaths that he’s not in control, that this frightening, terribly unfamiliar side isn’t the real him.

You whimper more when you realize you’ll be squinting at him for months to come, losing sleep over the question of, was he helpless to the beast, or hiding it in him all along? Was he a mere victim to the predator instinct forced onto him? or willfully steering it—?

No. No. Because he’s like blood to you. And blood is thicker than water, and poison, and the niggling doubts you feed on until gluttony.

“I-It hurts,” you try when he bottoms out with a resounding groan. Shameless and frenetic. He stoops over you after pressing your legs all the way back to the couch, rough as he purrs in your ear.

“You say it hurts, but your pussy just squeezes tighter around me… So you’d understand why I’d be getting mixed reactions, don’t you?”

He whispers. For the second documented time, you find Sylus cruel. Very, painfully, cruel.

It’s hard to argue with him, even when you know he’s wrong. You think if he was more awake right now, more him, then he’d side with you as well. And yet he’s completely untrustworthy right now, morally black and mean. So, so mean.

That devilish smirk on his blissed-out face might bring on an even sharper sting than his cock as it spears inside you and starts a brutal pace.

Well.

Not quite.

Your eyes flare. So do his, want and pure, unadulterated need zipping between your bodies as his perspiration dribbles onto your collar. He hangs his head into your shoulder and you feel droplets slip between the valley of your breast.

It doesn’t take long for the heat to feel sweltering; sweat running like the Nile between you both.

“Silly little bird. You just- hah, fuck- have no clue, do you? How tempting you are?”

You ignore it all because it’s better to. Maybe ignorance won’t shield you from his hands as they clench around the fat of your hips, but it’ll certainly help you later on down the line when you want to forget and are thankful for the kickstart.

You try to focus on the ceiling, but even that blurs behind him when he leans back some just to stare, moaning at what he sees.

Even beasts can appreciate beauty, he distantly observes.

Those eyes on you, not gentle per usual (albeit sometimes tinged with a harmless tease) but ravenous and sharp- are even harder to ignore. You can’t stop your hands from lifting to push at his face to try to block him out.

All for naught, of course.

With a choked moan, he chuckles. “Ugh- look at you. These little hands keep swatting at me, even though your face is full of pleasure. Fuck,” he curses, his face handsome but a bit unnerving as it dons a more perverted look, eyes half closed, “You feel…. good. I always knew you would.”

No. No. Shut up, shut up—

“You wanna be good for your daddy?”

Yes.

Not like this.

He gathers your unruly hands and cuffs them above your head. “Then lie down and take it. If it hurts as much as you pretend, I’m sure it’ll… feel better that way, if you give in.”

There’s a very small window in between Sylus hovering over you and then Sylus dipping down to bite the fleshy bit between your neck and shoulder: in it, there’s no time to prepare.

Ice tingles in your veins, shock stealing your breath.

It’s the pain, first dull and uncomfortable as his teeth sink in, but then quickly all-consuming, that helps you find the scream.

The scream— a small, broken cry.

It doesn’t make much noise, not enough for any possible neighbors to hear- in Linkon, none would even bat an eye to it, anyway- but he covers your mouth regardless. He eats up the pathetic sounds with rough lips and hungry groans.

You don’t know how much blood he’s drawn, but there’s a little on his teeth that he makes you taste.

“Ngh, you’re delicious,” he heaves after a break. Saliva connects you both in a fleeting strand. “I’m sure your pussy tastes even better- but kitten, I really don’t have the time right now to try it. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” He chuckles in your ear. You know he does not care for the answer. It’s deep and mean-spirited.

This side of Sylus- this rotten caricature of the man who took you in— All the hurt for it turns to loathing.

“For later,” he decides after a beat, resolved as he ignores your sneer.

You’re used to ambition on his end, but not greed: right now, his goals gravitate more towards selfishness than anything else.

All of it nears its end and quickly.

As he ruts into you, though, frenzied thrusts reaching their mark with loud grunts, it feels more gradual for you… Painfully slow. Seconds might as well be minutes, or hours, even.

It’s feral, the glint in his eye as he reshapes your walls to fit the outline of his massive cock, your virgin pussy spasming around him. Responsively, he gives a twitch, and you swear you feel his balls jump when he pauses- just for a moment- and they rest above your ass.

Sylus looks down at you, breathless and wild, and you shake at the lack of familiarity in his gaze. Ruby red eyes survey you almost frantically, with one intent only- to fuck you within an inch of your life, undoubtedly. Full of need. It’s a bottomless gaze. You think right then that you can’t give him what he wants because he’ll always be left wanting for more.

You’re not an ocean— if he reaches his hand in, he’ll inevitably reach the bottom but that clearly doesn’t stop him from trying to pull everything from out of you anyway.

It scares you. You feel small, mouse-like, but when he snatches your jaw into a sultry kiss, all canines and spit, you realize that even amidst the tumult of his predator state, you still mean something to him.

You’re all he sees. Feels. Understands to want for.

He burns inside you, the juncture of your thighs becoming sticky, gross. He ploughs inside without care for it, chasing his end and choking out moans along the way.

He coaxes some out of you, too.

Maybe it’s out of fear but you suckle on his tongue experimentally and he shakes, damp skin shivering under your finger pads as you dig them into his forearm.

Maybe you can’t play dead, but if all else fails, you can still play nice.

That’s in your best interest.

“F-uck, sweet thing, you’re gonna make me-“ a primal noise rips through his chest and rings in your ears. He lowers himself to your neck again and suckles at the orbs of blood that prick at the surface, lapping away at the small mess he made.

You wonder if after all this is over, you’ll be able to pretend it was just a love-bite, a hickey or something minor. Healable. Something able to be forgiven. Even if that would also be hard to reconcile with, considering you’d never thought he do something like this to you, the precious girl he’d flip Linkon upside down for—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He’s classy, but not now. Cursing up a storm at your clavicle and pounding into you without thought, blunt nails embedding into your hips. Aching to brand himself wherever he can.

There’s no ceremony to it all (though there is a build-up, his pelvis quickening but stuttering against the underside of your bent thighs) when he comes.

He shouts and you scream, holding onto him for dear life as a torrent of something hot and thick floods you. Your legs shake, poor cunt desperately trying to push its intruder out but it flutters when he throbs inside you and quivers. A wisp of pleasure paralyzes you- it’s so good.

Warmth trickles between you; all along the seam of you when he withdraws until only the tip remains, his cheeks flushed, eyes unfocused.

You let your head bounce against the cushion when he slides it all out with a wet ‘pop’, squeezing your eyes shut in shame. But relief joins it, too, your jaw (that had went slack only to howl with delight) closing as you catch your breath.

It’s done. It’s over. You went through the hard part and now you just have to wait the aftershocks of it out until morning, when you’ll finally be given the chance to recuperate and forget the monster your daddy was acting the night before—

Something thick, straightening back to life, nudges at your sopping hole again as it clenches around nothing. Your eyes snap open.

A large, callous palm holds you down, bracing you by the collarbone. He tuts, leaning over you with a dazed but wholly vicious grin.

Far from satiated.

“Ah-ah, kitten. It’s a little early to tap out, isn’t it? I’m far from done with you.”

He drives himself back home, slamming into you with a moan you brokenly mirror.

✦

Morning birds tweet outside the window. Bickering back and forth to one another.

The sheer curtains glow with sunlight as the onset of dawn makes its way in. Rays of it slur together in blocks on the floor.

Sylus’s room, you realize groggily. Not the living room with its new sofa stained with sweat and sex or the rug with its shattered, neon vials.

A strong arm holds lazily to your waist. Warm breath at your ear tickles you into slight wakefulness. The body slotted behind yours isn’t scorching hot like your nerve endings remember, though, almost flinching in response, and his sounds aren’t ragged. No, it’s…

Peaceful.

The events of the evening before come back to you in increments.

Your mind, with the natural want to protect you, chalks it all up to a bad dream.

The ache between your sticky legs and the fat cockhead that sits limply above the cleft of your ass- appeased- says otherwise.

You let out a soft gasp. The man behind you grumbles out a low, noncommittal sound before his lashes flutter over the blade of your shoulder.

“…Baby? What’s wrong?”

He untucks himself from there and is given great pause when his nakedness- and yours- clicks. His limbs harden around you— horrified and confused as every fresh memory from last night comes barreling into him as well.

Stunned, he lifts his head from its perch at your shoulder, but his hand remains above your hip, feather light and hesitant.

Wearily, you turn to meet him when his other hand gently steers your chin to look his way.

He looks tired. Fucking exhausted, the fine wrinkles in his face emphasized under the weight of the night prior. He looks—

Devastated.

“You-…” A sharp, shallow breath beats from his chest. His eyes, wide and unsteady, flit between yours, searching desperately for something he can’t quite find or recognize as you wet your lip to speak.

“Yesterday, I… Started decorating the house. I was excited to show you,” you say without really knowing why. Sylus’s shoulders sag ever so slightly at your apparent calmness, but the fear in his eye remains as he surveys the bruises- all the discoloration in your otherwise supple skin- and blinks.

You inhale shakily, looking down to his chest and all its striations, put on full display in the afterglow of what transpired however many hours before.

It feels wrong to call it a night of love-making, or even a term more raw, unfeeling, as sex. No, it was…

He fucked you within an inch of your life and that was all you really knew. He fucked you until you passed out and then sometime afterwards, apparently snapped out of his trance just enough to carry you back to his bed and sleep the remnant of his frenzy through.

But it wasn’t his fault. Couldn’t have been.

(Whose, then?)

You murmur, “I should’ve went with Wolfe.”

“No,” and there it is again, that fucking snarl, searing you through to the core but before panic can settle, he’s cradling your cheeks and pressing his forehead to yours.

His eyes are intense, but not scary. No, they’re tender and beaten and lovely as his chest shudders and he shakes his head. “No, sweetie. What happened…” he starts, just as unsure of how to label it, “had nothing to do with you. Don’t ever blame it on yourself. Do you understand?”

Blearily, you nod.

You see him in double when he sighs and carefully thumbs away a tear you didn’t realize had formed and fell.

…But Sylus appears a mite uncertain with himself when his eyes fall to your breast before quickly averting, self aware to the point of near pain and definite discomfort. “I’ll clean us up,” he ventures, glancing at you again.

For permission, you realize. To scoop your jelly limbs up and carry you to the shower, bridal-style, where he’ll wash the both of you naked, intimate and-

And should-be alarming.

But it’s not. Not now when you’re still dazed and bruised and his dried cum is caked to your thighs in white rivulets- and he’s just as wounded, but ready to fix. Ready to repaint over the peeling bits of you both in the aftermath of it all. Hang a picture over the hole in the wall of your heart.

“…Okay.”

He wastes no time in picking you up, but he’s gentler than ever when he takes you with him to the bathroom adjoined to his room. It’s awkward: you note that even in the bone-deep fatigue. You can tell he’s trying not to look at all the places instinct tells him he should, and you do well to blot out the sight (and memory) of his softened cock as it dangles between his legs.

The shower starts. Sylus keeps you upright so you don’t fall because your joints will literally fail you otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” he laments as the water pours overhead, holding you against him. He means it in more ways than one. And yet, before you can voice your acknowledgement, and an unsure forgiveness, a small hope stirring in your gut that says this can be moved on from—

His lips press to yours. Chaste but searing; somehow even more world-shattering than last night.

It’s different. He’s… awake.

Jaw slack, you blink at him, water clumping your lashes both. He’s as handsome as a wolf is hungry but- for the moment- domesticated. Even his crow’s feet seem to soften.

“I’ll help you unpack the rest today,” is all he says as he reaches behind you for the soap, gaze unwavering even as you latch onto him and your perfect tits jiggle, his hand dipping below to carefully lather at your marks.

“This house can still be a home. I’ll show you.”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

#sylus x reader smut #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus smut #lads #sylus #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lads smut #sylus x you #sylus qin #sylus x reader #calebrity #algorithm dont hoe me #ill post this to ao3 for anyone who wants it there right after i hit the gym #this one def wont be for everyone but i hope yall like it anyway 🥲💞#‧₊ 🍰.┊𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

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drchucktingle · 3 months ago

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non-dysphoric soul

i am not a religious buckaroo and dont think i ever will be. this universe is so wonderful and my life so blessed that idea of needing something more does not make any sense to me. what we KNOW about existence already takes my breath away, i do not need the unknown. i am so happy and thankful as is

HOWEVER i am also curious and while i do not NEED the grand unknown i find it exciting and romantic sometimes. i FEEL it in art, and i am not arrogant enough to think 'i know everything'. i do not. so there is a door within me that is open to something spiritual for lack of a better word.

lately i feel the door opening wider and wider and while i think most folks think of my agnostic trot as a sort of SIDEKICK to atheism, to me it is really its own thing that has plenty of room for thoughts of 'well maybe there is something more? i do not know so lets bask in it and see what happens'

i think single most important part of my journey as spiritual buckaroo has been self reflection and personal understanding of my own non-dysphoric transness. which is interesting because i think some who CLAIM to be spiritual in the specific american christian sense have a large anti-trans history

and it makes me think ‘kinda wild that you can believe in a soul that is distinct from all the firing neurons and churning cells of your body, some separate trot outside of known matter and energy, and then claim that this soul ALWAYS ends up in a correspondingly gendered slot?’ couldnt wires cross?

REMINDER i am not a religious person. i am not sure if there is a soul out there that defies any sort of quantifiable trot. maybe this SELF i feel is just electrical currents of a brain trying VERY HARD to convince itself of something more. the jury is out. ITS OKAY. in fact the mystery is beautiful

over time, i feel like i get hints from the jury, one or two heads poppin out from the jury chambers to wink and say there is something more. A SOUL. whether that soul is a wonder of science of a wonder of the great beyond will probably never be answered. that is just fine with me. i do not need it

point is, my understanding of my own self and my non-dysphoric trans way can BEST (maybe ONLY) be described in terms of a soul. i have no desire to change, no dysphoria, no plans. it has never had a impact on my life and very likely never will, but feeling is true. id be lying to say otherwise.

so with all the politics around gender and who can identify as what and on and on, i find myself saying ‘well my soul is this, and my body is this, and that is fine. i love my body and i love my soul and they happen to be two different trots��. its easy to miss the SOUL part of that conversation

'A SOUL?' i suddenly think. 'WHAT THE HECK? YOU DONT BELIEVE IN SOULS'. and i have to remind myself, ‘well you dont believe in anything really, you DONT KNOW’ and while most see this proclamation of not knowing as being closed off to all things, i see it as being open to all things

and i am grateful. how lucky that this rare sensation of soul and body disconnection could happen TO ME? because it declares THERE IS A SOUL. i know to others the trans journey is hard and i dont want to diminish that. it can be pain it can be torture. but thats not my story and theres room for all

because every day that i notice MY disconnection between body and soul is a day i get to reach into the great beyond, into the vast cosmos, and feel around for a while. i still do not expect to find anything, but DANG is it fun. and DANG is it exciting to be alive in a way that proves love to myself

#chuck tingle #buckaroo lifestyle #love is real

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moonlit-imagines · 10 months ago

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Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence imagine #johnny lawrence x daughter!reader #lawrence!reader #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid x reader

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ivysprophecy · 2 months ago

Text

I'll Be Damned

an: ummm @kimoralov3 gave me a request and we both decided i needed to write it immediately. sorry if its a little whorish LOL. the actual request is from a tumblr post TAGGED HERE AND I WILL TAG THE CREATOR @wttcsms i wanna make sure credit is given where its due. also i got SO CARRIED AWAY the longest thing ive ever written LOL and i started this so long ago i think the original post got deleted, whoops.

warnings: talks about conservative/strict/religious upbringing, purity rings, mentions of weed, loss of virginity, protected sex, mentions of not being on contraceptives, religious talk, mdni 18+, oral fem!recieving

word count: 4373

you were no saint, that much was certain. god knows if your parents knew you were alone in a boys room with said boy theyd have your head on a stick.

especially if they knew that boy was jj maybank.

your parents werent bad people by any means, they knew not to judge someone based on things out of their control. but in their defense jj had made some questionable choices.

but that was part of his appeal. his charm was his impulsivity, his wit, his knack for excitement.

how he'd decided youd be good friends you have no idea but you couldnt be happier that he had.

or else you wouldnt be sitting in his bed at the chateau with him as he smoked a joint and watched whatever sit com you were currently binging together.

"can I ask you something?" he blurted out of nowhere, his eyes still trained on the small television screen.

your head whipped in his direction at his cautious tone, "shoot," you said curiously. why did he sound so worried?

had you done something wrong?

"whats that ring? on your pinky finger..." he motions with a nod of his head down to your hand that was sitting in your lap, "i know you said its a family thing. does it have a meaning or something?"

oh boy. i hate this talk.

"its uh... its a purity ring... my dad gave it to me at my confirmation last year," he almost choked on his own spit.

"a- a purity ring? i know you said you were religious but damn- i thought those were some kind of fallacy..."

"im so proud of you! you just used 'fallacy' correctly in a sentence!" you said with an exaggerated sense of excitement hoping to change the subject.

you hated being judged for your ring. you saw the looks from boys when they saw it, if they knew what it was. girls teasing you for being a prude.

when in reality it wasnt much of a choice. rationally, you know having sex wouldnt send you into the fiery pits of hell. rationally, you knew that in your faith, heaven was created for sinners who had earned forgiveness and preached love and prosperity and worshipped God. but irrationally... what if your parents were right? your faith was important to you, a key part of how you were raised. you didnt want to become a disappoint by giving into temptation.

but late at night when a certain blond snuck into your thoughts... you wanted to give in. badly.

"i wasnt judging you, i was just a lil shocked alright? i didnt know you were that serious about all that," hed held up his hands in defense trying to calm your nerves on the sensitive subject.

"honestly?" you turn to face him with a shameful look on your face, a pink hue covering your cheeks perfectly, "sometimes i dont think i am. or- that my values and beliefs dont really line up like that."

"what do you mean?"

"just that. i dont think purity matters THAT much ya know? and forgiveness is there for a reason. that having sex doesnt mean im not a good person. right?"

jj chuckled lowly, "mama if that were true id be considered down right satanic."

you couldnt hide your laughter after his comment either. hes just so infectious. clearly with the way thoughts of him had been invading your mind lately.

"its not just that- then the insecurity comes along with it, even if i changed my mind everyone already knows about it. no guy would ever wanna sleep with me. unless its some kind of weird kink thing and i dont think my religion should be fetishized-"

"are you kidding me?"

"um... no? im not really comfortable with that-"

"no- mama-" jj shook his head in his hands, "there are plenty of guys that would wanna sleep with you. not just for some creepy kink."

"name one," you said seriously. because seriously, who the fuck would wanna sleep with you? not a single person has ever shown real interest in you ever-

"me."

shut the fuck up. he said that so confidently?! hello?!

your eyes widen with shock, "p-pardon?!"

"i didnt stutter right? i said pretty clearly that i want to have sex with you-" you clamped a hand over jj's mouth instinctively. praying that john b hadnt heard his friends loud proclamation across the hall.

"i heard you the first time!" you whispered, your tone stern.

jjs eyes gestured to the hand on his mouth as if to say 'move please so i can speak'. part of you didnt want to move your hand, partially because of what he might say, and the other because touching him kinda felt nice. in anyway you could.

haphazardly, you decide to remove your hand from his face, your face still showing your disbelief.

"why are you so confused? you asked a question and i answered it-"

"because i- well i didnt expect that from you. and i dont need a pitty fuck if thats what youre trying to say because thats even more pathetic."

"okay none of that- no maam," jj interrupts me shaking his head, "im not gonna listen to you talk about yourself like youre completely undesirable. because thats so fucking unbelievable."

his face, on rare occasion, is utterly serious. oh my dear god he really did wanna sleep with me...

lord if this is a test i want to assure you this not a battle you wanna give me. im not your strongest soldier because i will fold faster than a lawn chair.

"youre serious??"

"do i look like im jokin? do i have a mic in my hands? is there an audiance i dont see? cause im not a fucking comedian. im being for real."

what are you supposed to do now? like actually? do you kiss him? no one prepared you for what to do in this situation.

"okay listen- you look pretty freaked out. im not saying we have to or anything im just saying... ive thought about it ya know? youre gorgeous and were close so i just thought maybe youve thought about it too."

well here goes nothing, "i have. thought about it i mean. a lot."

"oh really?" that made jjs brows quirk up and a smirk plaster across his face. he always has to be so smug, "is that so?"

"dont do that!"

"do what?" he questioned.

your cheeks flush in embarrassment, "make me feel like this is so easy. because it isnt."

"but it could be," jj pauses the tv before looking directly in your eyes, meaning business, "you just said that this is what you want right? im right here offering it to you so whats stopping you?"

you took a deep, shaky breath at his words. you really didnt wanna sound like a crazy person but being scared of sex was normal right? especially with your best friend of all people.

there were so many reasons not to do this.

"honestly? im scared. scared of what that would mean for us, scared of actually doing this. scared of... a lot of things. im a chicken. a big fat crazy chicken."

he couldnt help but laugh at your words. thinking 'what the fuck is she on?'

and part of him knew hed have to talk you off the ledge if you were gonna do this, but hes willing to work for it. work for you.

"mama listen to me. we can be whatever the hell you want us to be, youre my girl whether we're just friends or my head is between your legs. and as for the other part- id never ever hurt you m'kay? if you wanna do this i promise id go as slow as you want. you set the pace, ill be gentle. but im not trynna make you do this."

oh my god jj maybank just gave you 'the speech'.

and youre sitting here with all of your clothes still on.

"and lets say i do... wanna do this... you really want this? like this isnt out of pity or curiosity or anything?"

"maybe im not making myself clear. y/n. i wanna have any and every part of you that you'll let me."

holy shit okay... yeah okay. this is really happening.

you try to scramble for the words caught in your throat, "okay.. h-how do i do this? what if i do it bad?"

"youre not gonna 'do it bad'," he chuckles through his words, one of his hands sliding onto your thigh, "look ill guide you through it okay? we'll go slow... i promise."

"that sounds...nice."

"i sure hope so," he chuckled softly, "otherwise we wouldnt be doing it... and if you wanna stop just tell me okay?

all you could was nod and watch as he moved so he was hovering over you and you were laid flat against his bed.

"i need to hear you say it mama..." his face was so close to yours you could barely muddle up a whisper in response giving him a small 'yes' before finally feeling his lips press into yours.

it wasnt anything like you thought it would be. it was... gentle, sweet, tender in the most romantic way.

but you could tell he was holding back...

your hands found the nape of his neck and quickly pulled him closer, needing more of him. wanting him to show you what its really like, not some pussy foot version.

his lips travelled further down to your jaw... to your neck... to your collar bone...

"can i take this off?" there was a small tug at the hem of your shirt, his eyes pleading with you, begging even.

you sat up almost immediately, helping him pull it over your head, and just like that his eyes were glued to your chest.

the pink on your cheeks intensified to a red at the sight, at first you were thinking of the worst case scenario. that hed changed his mind, the they didnt look right, that you werent as appealing as hed assured you.

his hands instinctively reached out but he stopped himself, unsure if he was moving too fast, doing too much.

"gorgeous..." his eyes were wide with excitement, raw and unfiltered. the inside of his mouth salivating at the sight of your braless body. "can i touch you? please god- ill pray if it means i can."

the laugh that escaped you was just as unashamed as his pleas, "yea. yea jay you can touch me," you wanted laugh more. aware that hes being considerate of your feelings but it was almost stupid how badly you wanted this.

he quickly pulled his shirt over his head before diving back in to kiss you, his hands gently kneading at your breasts. you were a bit disappointed you didnt get to ogle at him like he had you, but youd seen him without a shirt enough times at the beach to satisfy curiosity.

"jj-"

his head whipped up so fast from trailing gently little kisses across the swell of your breasts, a worried expression crossing his face. "you okay baby? need me to stop?"

"no- no i just... you can keep going. i need more. i need you..." your breathing was heavy as were your eyes.

"you sure? im just trynna go slow and make sure youre okay. wanna take care of ya."

"im okay jj... i promise. this is what i want," you meant what you said too. there isnt anyone else youd want to do this with.

he gave me a look, once more chance to back out, before letting a deep rooted sigh out. sounded more like relief than anything.

his fingers hooked into the belt loops of your shorts giving them a firm pull, "these need to go. now."

and he didnt have to tell you twice, within seconds they were unbuttoned and being pulled past your knees and being thrown across the room with abandon.

the giggle that escaped your throat was involuntary as jj pulled you buy your ankles further down the bed so the back of your knees were hanging off the edge of the bed.

"jj! what are you doing??"

"m gonna eat, fucking starving. now spread your legs f’me. wanna see that pretty pink pussy," jj knelt to the ground, threw my legs over his shoulders with urgency, looking down and admiring the view before him. “you’re so fucking perfect…”

you didn’t think someone just talking to you could elicit a moan from you, however jj was always there to challenge you. like right now.

he was peppering small kisses down the inside of your thighs, along the curves of your hips, avoiding where you need him most trying to make you feel appreciated.

he’s doing a good job too.

his thumb gently glides over your sensitive clit with a featherlight touch making me shake with need, the other hand holding your hips against the mattress as you feel his lips finally capture your core and his tongue starts lapping at the bundle of nerves.

your hand flies to his hair gripping it tightly between your fingers eliciting a groan that vibrates through you as his tongue continues to skillfully pull every sound from you and send shocks through your body

theres a feeling of something toying with your entrance delicately, looking down to see him staring up at you with a needy, hungry look in his eyes. you gasp at the feeling, your eyes widening with a nervousness and desperation.

"'s just my finger baby, relax. it wont hurt i promise," he tried to reassure you gently as you nodded.

"feels good... keep going. please."

"yes maam," he smirks up at you before diving back into your slick folds, simultaneously ever-so gently pushing his finger into you beneath his chin.

was it normal to feel so full from just a finger?

holy shit what is it gonna feel like when hes actually inside you??

you tried your best not to think about it to avoid psyching yourself out and just trying to enjoy the feeling. your walls flutter around him and he can feel how close you are already with his finger pumping in and out of you painfully slow as he curls it inside of you.

his face his practically dripping with you when he looks back up at you, "hows it feel mama? talk to me."

your face is scrunched in pleasure as you shake your head quickly, your hands back to gripping the cotton sheets beneath you, "cant," you answer bluntly, out of breath as his finger works your mercilessly. it was the honest truth, the feeling making it hard to think straight, or at all really.

"oh cmon now i believe in you. tell me how good it feels... think you can handle another? youre so close gorgeous, let me help you get there..."

you practically squeal as he presses the second digit into you, the stretch a delicious sting that borders on uncomfortable. but the slickness greatly helps with the discomfort easing it almost instantly as jj keeps his pace consistent, your hips bucking off of the bed as you come apart on his fingers, your juices dripping onto his palm.

"holy shit mama that was so fucking hot... youre so tight," he presses small gentle kisses down your thighs as he talks you through your first orgasm. his forehead resting on your hip as he gathers himself.

it feels like the lack of oxygen has made you dizzy and oddly relaxed from feeling so breathless.

jj maybank just made you come.

jj maybank just gave you your first orgasm.

oh lord am i gonna have to ask for your forgiveness until the day i die. i might die right here right now.

"pretty mama i need you to say something... kinda scaring me," you lift your head off of the pillows to look down where he lays on you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns across your stomach.

"sorry," you run a hand over your face taking a deep breath, "just kind of... i dont know. calming down."

god even his laugh made you quiver.

"we can take a break if you need it- do you want me to grab you a water or someth-" you quickly shut him up by leaning down to kiss him

"i wanna keep going.. jj that was... eye rolling, moan eliciting, mind boggling-ly good. im okay i promise."

"youre killing me here baby-" he looked up at you as his hands roamed your body slowly and aimlessly. feeling comfortable in such a vulnerable state with her. "are you sure?"

you lean to the side diving into the drawer next to his bed where you figured hed have a condom lying around, you guessed correctly.

"stop asking me that, i know youre trying to be sweet but i already told you i want this. im not changing my mind. im not on birth control for obvious reason but-"

a groan from his lips interrupts you, the sound more like a struggled, suppressed moan. his head falling into the crook of your neck. looks like someone has a breeding kink. shouldve guessed it by that nickname.

"ill do whatever you want mama but youre literally naked holding my condom in your hand. im losing self control quickly."

you giggled softly, "youre okay with just the condom?"

"im okay with or without it. god, ill be perfect as long as im inside you."

it was your turn to moan this time as he takes the foil from you, ripping it open between his stupidly cute canine teeth, grinning from ear to ear as he rolls it on almost effortlessly.

watching him you realize it was the first time you could really drink in the sight of him... and how big he was.

"jj- i dont think-" you go to protest before he kisses you softly. so fucking soft for you in every way except for one.

"we'll make it fit," thats the only thing he says before he positions his body to loom over you, your hips meeting each other. his eyes light up and he reaches behind you grabbing an extra pillow. "lift your hips for me baby... good girl."

he adjusts the pillow under your hips comfortably, his hands gripping your hips to lower you then running down your legs to wrap them around his hips.

"i read somewhere that makes it better- for you. i dont know im not a chick. does it feel okay? are you okay?"

you could melt from his words, jj wasnt always great with telling people how he felt but he does one better. he shows them, shows you. always thinking of you and your wellbeing.

"its perfect jay, thank you," you smile up softly at him, "youre perfect."

the blond blushed at your words, placing one hand next to your head so he leans over you to whisper in your ear, probably to also hide how flustered that made him.

"ill go slow i promise... its gonna hurt a little but ill stop when you need me to. and if you wanna stop all together thats okay. youre in control baby. 'm at your mercy."

your hand reaches for stability, finding it tugging at the roots of his blond mop as his hand reaches between the both of you to align him at your entrance. the folds still slick from just moments ago.

hes pressing soft wet kisses to your neck, moving his hips forward just the smallest bit so his tip barely pierces your hole. you suck in sharply as you feel him, feel the pressure, the sting.

your gasp must have scared him, he lifts himself from you to look down at you with concern.

"you okay mama?"

all you can do is nod in response trying to keep your breathing steady. frankly, you didnt think youd be this tight. obviously hes not the size of your ultra big tampons but still. you were a bit naive.

"just let me know if you need me to stop... but you gotta relax or it wont fit. trust me, ill go easy on you but you gotta breathe babe. let yourself relax... im right here."

you nodded again, maybe it was lame but you were so focused on how he felt against you, you could barely speak.

taking another deep breathe you urge his hips forward with your ankles wrapped around them, and the sting intensifies as his tip finally goes inside of you, and you were already clenching around him.

hard enough that his arms wobbled for a slight second.

"shit mama, youre so fucking tight," he sighs in ecstasy, "jesus- stop clenching around me or ill blow like a two pump chump."

that got a chuckle out of you, even though he was completely serious. the sting goes away slowly, and you press kisses down his neck to calm yourself. you wanted your lips on every inch of his body.

"keep going," you begged, your voice abnormally high and breathy.

"there you go baby, made it through the hardest part. see? its not so bad... im right here baby."

he moves his hips forward again, and you felt another inch push into you. god how did you already feel so full?

and then another inch. and another.

how fucking big is he?

"jesus jj- so full... 's too much-" you whine, your hands clinging onto his shoulders, your polished nails pressing into his skin.

"need me to stop?"

you thought for a moment before shaking your head, "no.. need more. feels so good."

and with that he pushed himself all the way to hilt, fully pressed inside your sopping wet cunt. you moan loudly, forgetting john b is just down the hall in the living room.

jj presses his lips to yours, capturing them so your tongues meet in the middle, making every thought poof from your head. youve dreamed of this moment so many times and you know youre lucky that the first time feels just as good as the fantasy, if not better.

"move, jay i need you to move... please for the love god move your hips."

he moaned into your ear before pulling back and push back into you, again and again, setting a steady pace that was safe for the both of you. safe for you because he didnt want to hurt you, and safe for him because he didnt want to come in the next two minutes.

with your head thrown back on the bed, jj begins pressing kisses across your jaw, down your neck, focusing on the sweet spots he found before. making his way down to your collar bone, your chest rising and falling drastically as he continues to pump in and out of your swollen pussy.

and finally he makes it to your breasts, beautiful and full and ready for some attention, hips lips latch around one nipple while his free hand rolls the other between his fingers teasingly.

"so fucking perfect, so fucking mine," he grumbled against your chest before switching places. he pulls off of you with a pop, a sudden idea popping into his head.

his hips fastening their pace as he looks down at the ring on your finger, before taking your hand in his, and pulling that purity ring off.

your eyes widen as you watch him carefully, watching to see what he will do as he inspects it. or at least trying to as his hips slam into yours.

he takes his necklace off, and hooking the ring onto the string before tying it back onto his neck and leaning forward back the way he was. hovering over you, and now your purity ring, thats no longer needed, dangles in front of you like a taunt.

"dont need that," he whispers in your ear quickening his pace as he feels you clenching around him, so fucking wet for him you can hear the pornographic sounds of wet skin slapping against each other. only adding fuel to your fire, "wear it so everyone knows who you fucking belong to. youre mine, y/n. say it."

oh god.

"yours," you can barely speak without moaning, "yours jay."

he slips a hand between you, his thumb working your clit perfectly as he pounds into you pushing you to the edge of another orgasm.

"yea. youre mine? coming around my cock baby, youre squeezin me to death, you gonna cover me in your cum? yea?"

you squeal at the feeling, his words, everything, this is so perfectly overwhelming. you moan, almost scream, coming again just like he said.

and hes not far behind you, driving into you before you feel him twitch inside of you, spilling into the condom shuddering around you, trying not to collapse on you.

"holy-"

"shit," you chuckle finishing his though as another ripple passes through his muscles, he pulls out and you instantly feel empty, squeezing to find something that isnt there anymore.

he lays next to you with a very satisfied smile on his face.

more like a smirk really.

"ill be damned," you smile deliriously, turning to look at him, "jj that was... i couldnt have had a better first experience. seriously..."

"glad you enjoyed it mama," he wraps an arm around you pulling him into a chest as he starts to breathe normally, his heartbeat still racing though. "you okay?"

"im perfect jay... i loved it."

"well id be happy to be of service whenever youd like-" he teases.

you slap at his chest playfully, moving to wrap a leg around his before realizing how sore you were. and soaked. he sits up almost immediately seeing your hesitation.

"let me get something to clean you up..." he grabs his boxers pulling them back on to grab a warm wet cloth from the bathroom, crouching to clean you carefully and gently.

girls at school werent lying, aftercare was arguably the best part.

he treated you with such care and so much love that it didnt matter whatever anxiety you carried from what just transpired, you were happy you did it. even if it was with your best friend.

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fucking-brains-out · 2 months ago

Text

DC X DP Idea

So one of my favorite prompts is when Danny or Ellie has to be incubated bc of GIW/Fentons shenagigans, the person that does that it normally is Tim or another member of the Batfam, but hear me out-

What if it was Kon who did it?

It makes sense for him to do it, since half alien anotomy (what if the Kryptoinains could carry bbs too? doesnt matther the gender of the kryptoinain) so Kon ends up carrying Danny (and Ellie if you want) for whatever reason, it could be that when Tim wanted bring Bruce back from the Timeline he made a truce (is it called a truce??) with CW that he had to carry Danny core to reform but Kon when he gets back from time travel shenagigans found out about it and convincs CW that he could carry Danny CW accepts since Kryptoin biology is similar to a ghost biology (also bc he wants to see how this goes) when Tim gets back he panicks since he didnt agree that Kon is the one who suffers te conseuqencios of his actions but its to late, Kon is now carring Danny Kon and Tim dont know what to do, the JL and their families dont know abt them having truces with an unknowk identity so they decide to make everyone think that Tim got Kon pregnant (since carrying Danny is similar to carrying a baby but more freaky)

At first they didnt tell anyone not even Cassie and Bart- since this was their mess, but since a core of a ghost is similar of kryptonite radiation (just the first weeks later on it doesnt have it) and makes Kon very sick and weak Tim tries to make him feel better but baby Danny is just being a little shit (not really its CW fault in not telling them that a core is similar to kryptonite) Jon is the one who first notice that Kon is not well and tries to help him (even if he doesnt know what is wrong) but Kon reasuress him he is ok (he isnt-) and Jon notices that Tim is the only one who seems to know whats wrong

So he convinces Damian to know the bottom of this, and Damian since he wants to know why Tim is so stressed (that is not Bat realted) also wants to know, so the supersons duo follows them and spy on them Meanwhile while oblivius of the two of them being spied on, Tim tells Kon they cant hide this anymore, that this (refers to Danny) is making him sick, more than an normal person, that maybe Clark knows how to help but Kon doesnt want to (bc insecurities, Clark is not an asshole to Kon anymore but you know ✨trauma✨ and ✨parental issues✨) and he cries that he doesnt want Danny to be hated like him bc he is having him (Kon is having many mood swings thanks to Danny) Tim tries to calm him down while Jon adn Damian are in shock since apparently Kon is pregnant?! and having health issues with the baby (oh no) doesnt want to tell anyone bc of their past relationship with Clark (Oh, noo) Tim is the baby daddy apparently? (Damian is having a crisis)

Jon and Damian tell their dads (for various reasons) Jon tells Clark bc he is worried adt Kon and Damian, well Damian just tells Bruce that "Drake knocked up the Oldest Superboy" Clark and Bruce have varius reactions of this

Anyone who wants to put their own contribution go ahead i dont really have any ideas xd

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc #de aged danny #de aged dani #timkon #kon el #kon kent #conner kent #tim drake #batfamily #superfam #core four #<-but platonic #timberkon #👀?#english is not my first language #sorry for any grammar mistakes

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gaywalker80085 · 9 days ago

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Party

Pairing: Wanda x G!P NB reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: You are attending a party and see a beautiful woman, but there's no way she would ever be interested in you. Right?

Warnings: Smut, Drinking, and drunk smut

A/N: Hey y'all all sorry again for disappearing for so long. All of my fics will still be coming out at random intervals, but for the foreseeable future, they will be scenarios I daydream about meeting my girlfriend in. And guess what not proof read

Words: 3527

Masterlist

All you wanted to do was get ready for bed early so you could bedrot and still go to bed at a good time. Even though it's the weekend, how are you supposed to have the maximum amount of time to rot your brain tomorrow if you don't wake up at a reasonable hour?

But of course, Natasha just had to go to this week's Stark party and would not relent when you tried to deny her invite. "Come on, it will be fun, I know you like to dress up. Pleeaassee."

You do like to dress up. Despite being a home body you know you clean up nicely, and it is pretty fun to see how sharp you can get yourself and how many longing stares you can attract.

"You've been working out more too so you know someone will come home with you, just saying."

Sold

Now its 7pm and your contemplating how many buttons to have open while factiming Natasha. "1 seems to closed, but 2 shows my tank top and I don't know if that's good or bad. Also, 1 hides my chain.."

"So obviously 2, I know you like to be modest and all, but I'm telling you girls will like 2."

"I suppose you're right."

You finish getting ready by putting in your small silver hoops and spraying your cologne before heading to Natasha's room. She wanted you to get ready there, but you know all too well that you need maximum alone time before going to this party if you want to stay for any real amount of time.

The party being in the same building as your room makes it all too easy to bail and the slightest amount of overstimulation.

You dont even knock on her door before Natasha opens it. "Wooow Y/N looking good looking good."

"Really? Is there anything you would change, be honest?"

"No, I think you really got it this time,e even your hair is looking pretty good."

She's right for some reason, recently your hair is a frizzy mess more often than not. It's most likely because you stopped putting in as much effort as before, but with your new schedule of waking up early and training, it's going to be a mess immediately anyway, so why bother?

You're a trainee for Shield, but you met Natasha when she was subbing for one of your teachers on a day she had nothing better to do. She thought you were pretty cool, so she spent extra time talking to you, and your friendship just blossomed from there.

"Are you ready yet It starts at 7, and it's 6:5,5 we're about to be lat.e"

Natasha just rolls her eyes at you. "Calm down its a party, they don't really start until an hour after they say. So when it says ,7 that actually means 8."

"Then why don't they say 8?"

"Because then everyone would come at 9."

"Why?"

"Because that's just how it is."

"But why is it that way?"

Natasha annoyingly elects to stop answering you. You are a punctual person, she tells you this hour after stuff all of the time, but it's just so annoying. Why say 7 if not 7? Why is it a culture to be late? There is no on time, only early or late, what do people not understand?

You decide to go into Natasha's room and take a quick nap before it is time to go. You have found that napping is the only way to keep yourself from stressing about the time.

Once it is time to go, Natasha actually wakes you up nicely for once. Over time, she has realized that abruptly waking you up, whilst temporarily funny, is not good for anyone unless they want you to be a snarky zombie for the next 1-2 hours.

You both head downstairs once you've had a few moments to come to your senses. You're armed with your earbuds and your over-ear headphones in Natasha's purse just in case your earbuds aren't cutting it.

Once you and Natasha make it into the room right at 8, of course, it isn't too packed, thank god.

You spot Bucky and Sam across the room and head over to them. You give Sam and Bucky some quick side hugs. You 4 had hung out a few times recently, slowly becoming a small friend group. Sam and Natasha head to get some drinks.

"I'm surprised you weren't here earlier. How in the world did Natasha talk you past 7:30?"

"She let me sleep in her bed. She had no choice unless she wanted to be here at 7."

"Well, you haven't missed much. I'm hearing a lot of 8:30's so you're still early in reference to most."

Natsha and Sam come back 10 minutes later, and you all stand around talking and laughing as the room fills up.

By the time you're 3 drinks deep, you're feeling loose enough to get your next drink yourself.

You head up to the bar, waiting your turn to be served, when you look over and see the most gorgeous woman you've ever seen. Wanda. You had seen pictures in the news and stuff, but despite frequenting Natasha's room and therefore the Avengers floor, you had somehow never crossed paths with the witch.

You quickly realise you've been staring and tear your eyes away from her. All you can think about is her now. You want her to be burned into your memory so she's all you'll ever see again.

You can help but sneak another glance, quickly looking over. You try to keep it short, but you also need your eyes to have time to focus on every part of her.

She's sitting with her back to the bar, talking to Carol, joking about god knows what. Shes wearing a simple black dress with a slit down the leg and heels. She's enjoying the conversation, but you know you could make her laugh more.

You turn your gaze back to the bartender in time to give him your order.

By the time you make it back to your friends, they are talking about something new, but you don't care; you're just thinking about her.

After 5 or 10 you have no idea minutes have passed your friends need more drinks. Natasha is about to go but you quickly volunteer.

"I'll go!" You say a little to quickly

Natasha looks at you confused "You just go a drink you've barely touched yet?"

Shoot, you were so deep in that you hadn't even tasted your drink yet, but you want another chance to see Wanda. So you do what you gotta do and throw your drink back in 2 big gulps and snatch your friends' empty cups before they can question you any further.

When you make it back to the bar, you look over, surprised to see that Wanda is now sitting alone. This time, you choose to stand a little closer to her, granted you're still 3 or 4 seats away, it is technically closer than before, so you call it progress.

The bartender is taking his time to make his way over to you but you arent complaining since this gives you all the time in the world to admire Wandas side profile as she scrolls on her phone. She seems quite uninterested in the party.

You could show her something that she would be quite interested in. Just as you think that Wanda's lips quirk into a slight smile.

You wonder what she's looking at. Nothing could be as fulfilling as looking at her. Her smile grows wider, but she seems to be trying to fight it. Weird.

The bartender comes over and you give him the order for all 4 of you, but when he walks away and you look back to continue staring at the beautiful Wanda, she's gone.

You look around, but you don't see where she went, deflating your shoulders a little, but when you look back toward the bar, you see auburn hair out of the corner of your eye.

Snapping your head towards it shes sitting right next to you, back on her phone, but she looks up at your sudden movement.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was someone sitting here? The vent was blowing on me over there,e and it was making me cold," she says, looking up at you through her eyelashes.

Fuck. Up close, she's even more beautiful, not a single imperfection on her flawless skin.

Her cheeks grow red, and you realize you haven't answered.

"Oh, um, no, sorry I just uh..." you ramble like an idiot trying to make an excuse for whipping your head around.

"Are you sure? I can move if you're here with someone, really, it's no problem."

"NO! I mean uh, no, sorry, no, I'm not really here with anyone, just my friend."

Wanda smiles softly, looking amused at your ramblings. "Oh really, whose your friend?"

"Uh, Natasha, she made me come."

"Made you?"

"Yeah, I normally just chill on the weekends, but she convinced me, I guess."

"And how did she convince you?"

'Women'

"Oh, you know, just saying I'll have fun and whatnot, you know the usual."

"Really, that's all it took? That seems pretty broad to me."

The look in her eyes seems like she knows something, but what would she know?

The bartender comes over with your drinks, and considering how hard you're bombing, you take that as your cue to exit.

"Well, I need to bring these to my friends, so if you'll excuse me."

Wanda smiles as you try to start balancing all 4 drinks in 4 different types of glasses. 'Damn them and their differing tastes this was easier when they were empty'

"Why don't I help you with one of those?" Wanda suggests, and before you can answer, she's picked up a drink. Your drink.

You don't protest as youd rather accept her help than embarrass yourself by spilling.

When you make it back to your group, you turn to take you drink back only to see a breathtaking sight.

Wanda is taking a long sip of your drink, making eye contact with you through her eyelashes over the rim of your glass. All you can do is stand there, hand half outstretched, mouth agape.

She finished her sip, putting your drink into your open hand while licking her lips. All you can do is close your hand and stare at her lips

"That's pretty good, maybe I should get one for my next drink."

Your mouth is dry as you try to come up with a response, but Natasha beats you to it.

"Oh hey Wanda, what are you doing over here?"

"Hey, Nat, I was just helping your friend... I'm sorry I didn't catch your name." She says, turning her attention back to you, placing a distracting hand on your bicep, which you swear she gives a squeeze, still pretty much in your same position.

"Uh, Y Y/N" You stutter out.

Natasha gives you a knowing smirk before looking back at Wanda.

"Well, that was very kind of you, thank you so much, Wanda," Natasha exclaimed a little too nicely.

Wanda stood around talking to your group for a little bit hand never leaving your arm.

As you watched her talk to your friends, your mind began to wander, especially as your 4th drink started hitting. All you could think about was wanting to kiss, which progressed into touching Wanda, which then progressed into tasting Wanda. With that, though, Wanda choked on her words, a little bit confusing you. Nothing out of the ordinary had been said in their conversation, at least out of what you heard.

Then, all of a sudden, a very vivid scene played in your mind. You're standing in a room you'd never seen before, holding Wanda upside down, tasting her and teasing her as she takes your full length into her mouth. The scene was so clear you swore you could feel it.

Just as fast as the vision came, it went. When your eyes refocused on Wanda, her face and chest were flush. She turned to you before coming close and whispering in your ear, "I need another drink, would you like to come with me?" before looking up at you, making direct eye contact.

You just nod, and her hand slips into yours, pulling you quickly towards the bar, but before you make it there, she pulls you towards the door. You're confused, but you don't care enough to resist as long as she keeps her hand in yours.

"Where are we going?" You ask even though you don't really care you feel you should at least pretend.

"My room," Wanda says quickly before pressing the button for the elevator.

"Your room? What's in your room?" you ask. confused.

Would you like to go to her room? Yes.

Do you think she would randomly take you up to her room for the reason you would prefer? Hell no.

"I'll be there, is that enough reason?" She asks, seeming impatient as you both step onto the elevator.

You nod your head side to side, "I suppose," you say, racking your brain to try and figure out what the hell is going on.

When the doors open, Wanda pulls you out of the elevator so fast you could have gotten whiplash.

She pushes you into the 3rd door on the right before quickly closing the door behind her.

You've seen this room. This is the room from that... Dream? You saw. Wanda steps in front of you, looking up at you with is that.. lust in her eyes? No way.

"Wanda, what is-" you begin to ask before she cuts you off, reaching her hands to the side of your face, tilting your head to meet her eyes. "Your thoughts are very loud, возлюбленный (sweetheart)"

You're confused for a second until. Fuck. How could you forget "The mindreader" What the fuck how do you forget that.

You're about to start profusely apologizing, but before you can, she pulls your head farther down so your lips are hovering over hers.

Staring at your lips, she asks, "Do you want to act on them?" looking back up into your eyes.

Fuck.

You lean in to meet her lips and lift her up as she wraps her legs around your waist her dress raising in the process. The kiss is fast and sloppy. Just the way you like it.

She's smiling, and she pulls herself tighter to you, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You reach up to put a hand to her jaw as you lay her on the bed, never breaking the kiss. You try to savor the moment, not wanting to rush too much, but she has other plans. She reaches a hand down to grab your pants and pull your hips to grind into her center.

You let out a groan as you give in and start rubbing yourself against her, giving her the friction she desires.

Quickly, however, this begins to not be enough for the witch as her hand moves over to your belt buckle as she tries to open it. She gets impatient and her failed one-handed attempts, and her eyes flash red as your pants literally fly off of you, leaving you in only your boxers.

Surprised and half confused, you pull away for a second, but she's not having it as she pulls you back to her and flips you both over so she's on top of you.

She grinds her hips up and down your full length, her dress now high enough that you can feel her warmth through her thin panties. She moves her kisses down your jaw and to your neck. All you can do is grip her hips and tilt your head to give her better access.

She lifts the bottom of your shirt and starts kissing down your torso before sitting up. At the loss of contact, you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at her in a confused daze.

"Take it off," she demands, and you quickly throw your shirt over your head. You look back at her as she stares at your torso, admiring you.

You begin to grow uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Seeming to sense it, she leans back in to kiss you. She moves your hands to the bottom of her shirt, wrapping your fingers around the bottom of her dress. "Take it off," she whispers against your lips. You nod quickly, gathering the bottom of her dress and lifting it over her head.

Oh shit. She's not wearing a bra. You've been trying to contain yourself, but it is proving somehow harder than you expected.

She grabs your wrists to move your calloused hands and places them on her hips, slowly moving them up her curvy sides until you reach her breasts, where she places her hands over yours to squeeze and knead her.

You don't need to be told twice. You take to massaging her on your own, sitting up to kiss her. She allows you one kiss before pushing you back and placing her hands on your shoulders to support herself as she resumes grinding down on your now fully hardened member, eyes closing.

If she doesn't stop soon, you're going to finish before her. You can't have that.

You move one hand to her side and one to her face before flipping you both back over.

She looks angry for a second, but you begin an almost attack on her neck as you begin grinding against her warmth again.

Her eyes close as one of your hands slides down her side towards the waistband of her underwear. You slide your fingers just ever so slightly underneath and run them slowly across back and forth.

You move your mouth up to her ear before whispering, "Do you want me to touch you, Wanda?" And you pull back to look into her eyes.

She nods quickly and grabs the back of your head to pull you into another searing kiss.

You slowly slide your fingers down until you reach her warm center and groan as you feel how wet she is. You slide your fingers up and down from her entrance to circle her clitoris and back.

She moans loudly into your mouth at the sensation.

You move your kisses back to her neck and then down to her hardened nipples as you slide your fingers into her.

At this, she digs her nails into your back while arching off the bed, moaning loudly. It doesn't take long before she's wiggling and writhing, but just before she finishes, you'd gently pull your fingers out.

She whines at the loss, sitting up. "Why'd you store? Please don't stop."

You smile, moving up to kiss her. "Don't you want to play out your little show from earlier?" you whisper.

You place a hand on the back of her head, pulling her up onto her knees while you stand up, still kissing her. You then bend to grab her waist and, in one motion, lift her up and flip her over legs over your shoulders pussy against your face.

She lets out a small yelp, which quickly turns into a moan as you dig in. She wastes no time before fumbling to get your boxers off, 8" of you slapping her in the face.

She moves to taste you moaning as she does.

Her mouth plus the vibrations of her moans make you rethink if you'll stay stable enough to hold her, but you know you must power through.

You both continue your acts on each other like your lives depended on it.

You knew it wasn't long before you would climax, whether you liked it or not, but you just hoped you were good enough for her to be in the same situation.

You soon became confident that your hopes were true as her thighs began to squeeze your head like she was trying to crush a watermelon.

As you felt yourself getting closer, you couldn't help but begin thrusting into her mouth, though trying to keep it gentle, you could only control yourself so much.

With a little more moaning and groaning from both of you, you knew you would break soon. Just when you thought you couldn't hold it anymore, you heard a loud moan from Wanda and felt her reach to massage your balls, forcing you to climax with her.

You tried your best to stay upright somehow successfully before walking over to lay her on the bed. You move on top of her and move lower to clean her up with your mouth. She whines at the stimulation, and you rub a gentle hand over her stomach before moving to get up.

Once you're standing and about to gather your things, you hear a disgruntled sound come from the sleepy witch before you're lifted up and placed under the covers beside her.

You aren't complaining, and you're crazy tired, so you scoot closer and she rolls to lie her head on your chest.

Masterlist

A/N: Sorry its short and probably not as well written as some of my other works I have to written in forever and also haven't been reading as often

@natashamaximoff-69 @i-dont-know-what-iamdoing @diaryoflife @cd-4848 @r3dheadenthusiast @bishopscheeseburger @winterstorm311

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#wanda maximoff smut #sub wanda #wanda maximoff x male reader #Powerbottom!wanda #wanda x y/n #bottom wanda #bottom wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda smut #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda xreader #wanda x yn #Power!bottom Wanda

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jacaerysgf · 3 months ago

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wrong pick!

Reality tv star!Jacaerys x Reality tv star!Reader | 2.8k wrds

Jace has been paired up with cassandra since the beginning, thinking their bond was pretty strong he felt as though he had nothing to worry about but he was soon proven wrong. and he quickly finds out theres always been someone else in his corner.

too hot to handle!au, fluff, mild angst, confessions, blooming love, first kiss, jace pov, acts of service, she/her prns used for reader, slightly proofread

[its pretty late into the game so they have the watches if you know what im talking abt some things in this fic wont really make sense if you don't know the show, used outer banks characters names cause i was watching it while writing it dont mind me, ive also never watched the show ive only played the games so idk what goes on, im very rusty i havent properly written something in months im sorry if this is lame no taglist cause idk if people care anymore. does anyone even read these authors notes anyway enjoy!]

Being on too hot too handle was turning out to be a lot more fun than Jace had originally expected. He had met someone he truly thought he connected with. or at least he had thought so not even an hour ago but now he was storming away from the outdoor lounge pit with a furious look on his face as Cassandra calls after him.

He’s never been one to break rules, even on a show like this when moneys draining from the pool left and right he doesn’t dare let him be the reason it gets knocked down a couple thousand. When he paired up with Cass he had been worried at first since she had seemed like the sexually driven type but she seemed respectful of the fact he had no intention of breaking any rules. He wanted that money to be able to provide for his family back home so this meant a lot to him. Yet after they had gotten the green light she seemed to be more persistent in her attempts to get them to break the rules and he was not interested in the slightest which pissed her off.

She had come into the bathroom as he had just gotten out of the shower, the two flirted a bit and she had tried to kiss him to which he backed away. He truly didn’t mean anything bad by it but she had took it really poorly and stormed off from him, he tried to calm her down and she just blew up on him. He had realized the two had completely different thoughts about their relationship and she clearly did not like him the way he liked her and he lost it. She didn’t respect him, she could barely even remember the things he had said to her which was more than enough for him.

When she realized he had gotten truly upset with her, which he hadn’t done before, she tried to back peddle but he simply stormed off leaving her to call after him. He wishes he was more thankful she didn’t follow him but a part of him stings that she didn’t even care to come after him. He walks along the beach side until a familiar figure comes into his view and smiles at him. Kiara, one of the original contestants here like him, who quickly paired up with JJ another contestant, and the two had become good friends.

“Heard some yelling all the way over there,, everything good?” He drops down to sit in the sand next to her and sighs. “I don’t know. I think me and Cass are done.” He tries not to get hung up on the fact Kiara doesn’t really seem surprised by the news. Was it obvious to everyone but him they weren’t going to work? She sits quietly for a moment, Trying to put the right words together before she speaks. “Are you upset?”

“I don’t know. I think so? I feel like I should be more upset.” “I’m sorry dude but I don’t even know how you put up with Cassandra so don’t feel bad about not feeling bad.” He turns and glares at her, his mood souring slightly. “She’s not as bad as you all seem to think. she,, can be nice.” Kiara laughs with disbelief and looks at him expectantly, “Sure,, like when?” A soft smile falls on his face as he recalls a moment in particular in mind. “I had been complaing about how my favorite shirt was all wrinkled and she steamed it for me.”

A look of pure confusion crossed her face. “What are you talking about about?” “It was awhile ago I had fucked up my shirt-” She quickly stops him placing her hands on his chest as she fully turns to look at him. “No dude I know what you’re talking about what do you mean Cassandra did that?” Now its his turn to be confused. Kiara full on belly laughs as he tries to understand what’s going on. “Ugh She’s gonna kill me for this but dude it was never Cassandra doing that stuff. Its Y/n. its always been her doing all that shit for you. Got a huge crush on you.”

Jace’s face is unreadable as he attempted to process this information. He had always assumed it was Cass since she was the one he had been complaining to about it to and she always liked doing little things for him without taking credit,,, right? There has been so many little things, little comforts, little actions done for him after he’s complained about it that he’s always just assumed was Cass and his stomach sinks at the idea its never been her. Kiara has no reason to lie to him. She’s your best friend here and he likes to think the two of them are good friends too. There’s no way she would be trying to set you up.

It was all you.

Kiara watches him with an amused expression as he tries to put the pieces together. He quickly stands and Kiara’s face grows into a knowing grin, “See you later!” He barely acknowledges her as he quickly sprints back towards the villa. Kiara looks out towards the ocean and shakes her head, speaking out loud more so for the camera than for herself. “She’s gonna kill me.”

His head is racing, his mind twisted up in knots as he finally arrived back to the villa. He flinches when he sees Cassandra has thrown herself a pit party, some of the other contestant comforting her as she sits and cries into her hands. All heads shoot up when his footsteps hit the pavement. Cassandra perks up and quickly rushes over to him, stopping him when he tries to walk away. “Jacey please lets talk,” “We’re done Cassandra. There’s no need to talk.” Her eyes widen in horror as he tries his best to gently move her out of his way but he stops him, “Please Jacey baby lets not do this to us-” “There is no us.” He spits out before storming past her into the villa house, ignoring the way she’s calling after him.

Jace’s eyes dart frantically around every room he enters until everything goes still once he finally sets his eyes on you. You’re sitting in the lounge pit, JJ on one side and on your other side sat Pope, one of the other contestants. Whatever conversation the three of you were having completely pauses as all eyes had turned towards him. He takes a moment to finally look at you. He’s seen you around often sure but he never had truly stopped to look at you. You're another one of the original contestants just like him. He remembers meeting you on the first day, The bright smile you had on your face, the way you made him a special drink at the bar and sent a wink his way. It had been the best drink he had ever had. He had always thought you were beautiful but right now he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Hey dude, you need something?” JJ is the first to speak up, sitting up slightly from his lax sitting position prior and looking at Jace with raised brows. Jace however did not spare him a single glance, his eyes lasered onto you as you attempted to act nonchalant about his presence in the room.

You’re wearing your hair differently today.

“Can we talk?”

Despite not addressing anyone directly everyone knows he’s talking to you. You glance over at pope who shrugs and another glance at JJ who looks equally as bewildered as pope does before nodding lightly and standing to follow Jace out the room. No words are exchanged between the two of you until you reach a private terrace just outside the villa. When he turns to face you you give him an awkward but friendly smile as you attempt to not take this situation too seriously. “Sooo, What's up?” you pop the p at the end and grip your hands tightly together behind your back.

You had just heard him and Cassandra fighting outside everyone did quite frankly. You almost wanted to go run after him but it would be too out of character, too obvious.

“I know it was you.”

Your friendly demeaner falters ever so slightly at his words instead contorting into confusion as you tilt your head at him. “What was me?” He takes that step closer to you and by instinct you lean away from him ever so slightly. “I know it was you who steamed my shirt.” Your face completely falls and he watches your face twitch as you attempt to come back with a statement but he doesn't let you.

“I know you had decided to make skewers that might because I had been complaining about missing my families yearly barbeque this year. I know you were the one who had found my missing t-shirt after I ripped apart the whole house looking for it;” With every claim that leaves his mouth he takes a step towards you he takes the slightly step towards you and you take the smallest step back.

At this point your back at hit the cloudy glass door and he was right in your face. He could hear your heart pounding but he’s sure you could hear his too, to anyone else it would see like you were completely unbothered by his words but he can see the minor glaze in your eyes which tells him everything he needs to know.

Before he can say anything else one more particular memory pops into his mind, he can’t believe he had ever forgotten about this. You go to open your mouth to deny his allegations during his moment of silence, the eye contact and closeness the two of your were sharing was killing you but he quickly stops you.

“And worst of all, I know you were the one who put my name down in the anonymous poll.” When your eyes widen in horror he fights back the grin that grows on his face.

Got you.

It had been about two weeks ago. They had been having a costume party and Kiara had suggested they do a ‘Who’s the hottest?’ anonymous poll, one for the girls and one for the guys. Since the couples had been pretty strong at that point and it was pretty deep into the game it was originally brushed off as a lame idea since everyone would just chose who they were paired with but Kiara managed to convince everyone since two new bombshells had just arrived yesterday.

Everyone had technically been right and most people picked who they were paired up with except one. Jace had two votes. that pretty much killed the night as Cassandra blew up trying to figure out who had voted for jace. She had never suspected you since you were pretty much always paired up with pope and pope had gotten a vote. So she automatically targeted Cleo, one of the new bombshells, who later took the fall for you and claimed she had voted for jace. He never thought anything about it, it was a harmless game. Plus Cleo had come up to him and said she wasn’t really interested she just thought he was hot, so he ended up getting pretty embarrassed by Cassandras outburst but brushed it off as he really caring about him.

He watches you gulp and look down as you try to collect yourself. He can practically see the wheels churning in your head as you attempt to come up with anything to say. Suddenly you look back up at him. your face hardened as you even slightly glare at him. “So what?” His gaze turns into something more affectionate at your admission and your face softens, “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” His hands had come to grab your forearms lightly as his words are let out in a light whisper. You turn your head away from him as you try to ignore his burning gaze into the side of your face. “You’re with Cassandra. I would be the bad guy if I tried to break that up.”

He releases one of his hands to grip the side of your face to turn you back towards him. “I wasn't in the beginning.” Your eyes turn away from him as you mutter something under your breath he can’t understand. He pulls your face towards him and he hears your breath hitch. “You can tell me.”

“She beat me to it.” He blinks rapidly as he doesn’t understand what you mean before his eyes widen in realization. The first retreat had just been completed, you and Cassandra had been deemed the stand outs from it and were given the opportunity to pick one person to go on a date with. Before you could even speak Cassandra picked jace first, he remembers agreeing to the date thinking Cassandra seemed interesting he had never even considered you were planning to ask him as well.

You had ultimately ended up picking pope who happily agreed. He had now realized you simply settled and picked pope because he had already been taken out and everything else seems to fall into place. You and pope aren’t a couple, everyone with eyes knows that the two of you are just really good friends who happen to get paired up together since there's nobody else around for the either of you as everyone is already paired up. And now pope has become infatuated with Cleo leaving you alone for the last two retreats. You had no interest in any of the bombshells that walked into the villa or any of the original contestants because you liked him.

He finds his chest tightening as he takes a deep shuddering breath. “I'm sorry.” You flinch as if he had slapped you and lightly shook your head. “For what?”

“For thanking someone other than you for the things you would do for me. For not knowing it was you,” You are quick to cut him off “You were never meant to know don’t feel sorry.” If anything that makes him feel worse. He breathes as if his throat is constricted. “Why?” You sigh in defeat, your beautiful eyes downdated. “As I said you and Cassandra are a thing and I'm not someone who likes to get between-” “Me and Cassandra are done.”

As your face contorts into something unreadable he pulls you to press your body directly against his. “The things that I had thought were the reasons that made me fall for Cassandra were actually done by you. I have no attachment to Cassandra know that I know its always been you all along. The one I should have been looking for, the one I should have gotten the green light with.” Both of your breathing turns erratic as the tension is palpable between you. “I want to try things with you. I don’t know how everything will turn out but I want to give whatever this is a shot. If you’ll let me.”

He gives you as long as you need to try and compose yourself. He watches as your eyes flicker all over his face for any sense of dishonesty but you can’t find anything because there is none. You can only see the pure affection dripping out of his pores and gulp. Once you open your mouth to speak you are cut off by a familiar light gleaming on his face.

Green.

He manages to contain his shock, despite his declaration he makes no move to close the distance between you and does not speak a single word. You decide words are pointless now as you grip the back of his head and pull him into a deep kiss. He eagerly meets your enusastic kiss and wraps his hands around your waist to hold you close to him. After what feels like eternity the both of you pull away and stare deeply into each others eyes, not even noticing the green light fade away into black.

“Lets give it a try.” The two of grin like giddy children as you press your foreheads together. No more words are needed to be spoken at least for now. He’s sure once the two of you leave the sanctuary of the terrace there's going to be a storm inside the villa but for now he can enjoy the peace and quiet alone with you.

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strwbrychffoncke · 3 months ago

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"its not too late to admit you love me,, 3.6k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: long having thought your love was unrequited ,you think its time to move on and seek help from the man causing the issue in the first place not knowing the storm this brews within him contains: angst -> fluff lnds zayne x mc!reader ,mutual pining but u both are kind of dumb ,caleb mention ,"unrequited" love (but not rly bc its mutual?) -> requited ,dates ,yearner!reader ,angst (self-inflicted on both ends) ,light teasing ,romantic gestures (zayne) ,night stroll ,confession ,playful banter ,um i think thats it note: (unedited!) happy valentines day~ im working on another fic that will hopefully also get out today bc its vday themed n silly....

"i think im going to confess to caleb."

zayne felt his world stop when you'd spoken those words to him oh-so casually, seated on the couch of his house as you had many times before, sipping on a cup of tea he'd brewed for you to chase away the cold of the outdoors.

he blinks once, staring down at you for a moment. your gaze was trained on the tea in the mug, watching the steam rise and breathing in the fragrant scent, allowing it to fill your senses in an attempt to calm your beating heart.

zayne takes a seat on the left-most side of the sofa, leaving a middle cushion space between you both, setting his own mug of tea down on the nearby coffee table beside a plate of cookies he'd grabbed for the both of you to snack on.

despite the storm of thoughts brewing in his mind, his expression remains neutral.

"i see."

a simple answer, the only one that he can conjure up in the moment.

you peek up at him trying to catch any hint of his feelings in those captivating eyes of his.

"what... do you think?"

"should i be the one to have an opinion on this?"

"well, do you think he'll... reciprocate?"

"is that not the reason you're confessing in the first place?"

you let out a frustrated groan. an amused grin ghosts the corners of zayne's lips.

"zayyyne, don't tease me right now, i'm serious!"

he resists the urge to laugh at the cute expression on your face. you really never changed.

"well, is there something that pushed you to make the decision like this?"

sheepish, you look back down at the tea in your hands, feeling the warmth seep through your hands, kicking your feet back and forth beneath you, lightly hitting the soft material beneath you.

"i just thought... its been long enough, you know?"

he tilts his head at a slight angle, reaching for a cookie on the small plate and taking a bite, seemingly losing himself in thought.

sure, he'd noticed. its not something that he particularly found to be a secret, even without you directly telling him of your attraction to the kind, doting boy you'd grown up with.

but he wasn't sure that you'd ever act on it.

thanks to that, he thought he'd had more than enough time to will himself to be honest with you...

but today, it seems that time had run out.

"have you thought about the method? even if its something one could say at any time, the execution is what you're also worried about, no? not to mention the timing."

given his logical side, you had trouble deciding whether opening up to zayne really was the best option (that, and your lingering feelings for him welling deep within you heart), but listening to his words, you remember why no one else could help as much as him in the first place.

"wow zayne, have you confessed to someone or something? is this something i dont know about?"

he scoffs, eyes lingering on your for a moment before they shift elsewhere in the room.

"hardly. it just seems like the most logical things one might be concerned with in this sort of situation. not to mention," he leans forward, reaching for another cookie.

"i know you."

your heart jumps in your chest.

you watch the doctor before you casually consume another sweet cookie, and when he looks over again, you hastily shift your gaze, taking another sip of the tea in your hands.

"right," you murmur once you let the liquid rush down your throat.

"i'm not sure how much assistance i can offer you, but granted thats what you're asking..."

"i'll pay you in one, no, two boxes of macarons! and.. the next time we go to that cafe, it'll be my treat!"

you're suddenly full of energy again, eyes wide and pleading as you negotiate with zayne, his slightly narrowed eyes staring back.

how could he ever deny you anything when you ask like that?

he huffs out a breath through his nose, reaching for the teacup.

"i'll see what i can do."

he watches you over the rim of the cup as you cheer, expression bright as you finally reach over and shove one of the cookies into your own mouth in triumph, a couple of crumbs sticking to the edges of your lips.

you don't notice the pointed stare, and he's grateful you seem distracted enough to not have caught onto the slightly-off tone of his voice or the sight of his thoughts running rampant through his brain.

the price of your happiness this time tasted bitter on his tongue, no matter how many sweet cookies he tried ridding it with.

zayne's thoughts lingered on that conversation as he types on his computer in his office the following day.

it was silly, wasn't it? thinking so much about this sort of thing.

it didn't seem to be in zayne's character, but really, he found these new sides of himself thanks to you.

it always led back to you.

he thought about you, the way you were never afraid to speak and tease him like you would anyone else, taking the time to get acquainted with him back then despite how reserved he was.

and yet...

he thought about how he was a stark contrast to the pilot of your affections, caleb.

even back then, zayne didn't doubt caleb's fondness for you.

he didn't think you really needed his help if you wanted to confess to him that badly. but he didn't tell you that.

instead, he used this as an excuse to spend what time he thought he had left with you before it would inevitably be taken up by the love from your childhood.

you felt... conflicted.

was this really what you wanted, or only what you thought you wanted?

for as long as you could remember, you had been taken with zayne.

something about the stark contrast to your familiar companion caleb intrigued you, and you quickly formed a friendship with him, whether he wanted to or not.

thinking back, you wonder if you actually forced it on him.

he never really denied you of what you wished to do, always letting you take the lead and allowing you entry into his life after you had barged in through the shut door.

maybe... there was never a chance for you.

you heave out a long sigh, flipping another page of the scrapbook filled with pictures of the three of you.

your eyes trail over a picture of you, caleb and zayne together. it was a bright day when you all played together, and you don't really remember who it was that took the picture. you're the only one not looking at the camera, gaze trained elsewhere while caleb is beaming a radiant closed-eyed smile and zayne his usual reserved expression, eyes wide under his large glasses.

your eyes linger on the young zayne for awhile, subconsciously smiling to yourself. he actually was quite camera shy, but never turned down taking a picture with you.

(you didn't know it, but he wanted to immortalize those memories, and it was something that he often looked back on in the time you two had lost contact).

your eyes then trail over to the young caleb, your gege that you had grown up with, the one who probably knew you better than anyone else in the world.

he was bright, thoughtful, and though he always teased you, you knew it came from a place of care and affection for you.

the thought of confessing to him made you nervous, but not in the same way you felt when you'd think about the same scenario happening with zayne.

so, were you really going to go through with this? or were you just trying to convince yourself that you had to get over yourself when it came to zayne?

you close the memory book, face planting into the pillows of your bed with a groan.

what a dream it would be if zayne li could ever think of you as something other than a childhood nuisance, you thought.

the more you prepared, the less you wanted to go through with it.

sure, caleb was everything anyone could want, not to mention attractive to anyone that took one glance at him, but could you really see yourself with him? after fantasizing about what it'd like to be by zayne's side, pulled into his embrace, graced by his affections?

despite this, you still spent the time with zayne, because how could you ever pass up an opportunity with him, as busy as he was?

you learned just how romantic the doctor could be, and you were filled with both giddiness and feelings of envy at the thought of someone else seeing this side of him for real.

tonight was the third "date" (as you liked to imagine them in your head, knowing full-well you were the only one who thought as such) he'd taken you on— a sort of "practice," as he called it— while telling you about what night dates might entail. the other two he had taken you on were during the morning and noon, his objective being that of showing you the different moods the date can create at certain times of the day.

it wasn't something you'd ever considered, but you considered yourself lucky being taken out to breakfast then the library for the first date, and having a picnic lunch and taking a stroll together for the second.

it was like getting a taste of something you knew would never be yours. the flavor of a dessert that wasn't meant for you.

it was bittersweet.

tonight, zayne had picked you up after telling you to dress nicely since he was taking you out to dinner, having made reservations at a fairly nice spot in the city. after scouring your wardrobe, you hoped the simple satin figure-hugging slip dress with matching heels and pretty accessories would do, not knowing how fancy the restaurant he was taking you to really was.

he'd opened the passenger door for you when you exited your apartment, something that he'd done the past two times as well, and allowed himself to get a good look at your outfit, feeling his ears burn at seeing you in such unfamiliar attire.

you looked beautiful.

when he made his way back into the drivers seat, he reached back to pluck a hidden rose from the backseat, offering it to you.

"for you," he whispered, watching you stare in awe for a moment before you took it.

no one had given you any flowers before. you felt butterflies.

"thank you..." you sighed, finger tracing the dainty petals.

"while simple, flowers can be a rather thoughtful gift to give to someone. often, they can relay messages without words, but it can also be seen solely for aesthetic value if the recipient isn't familiar with the language of flowers."

your heart sank.

right. this wasn't for real.

you hummed in acknowledgement, eyes trained on the flower to refrain from looking too longingly at the handsome doctor next to you as he began driving you both to your destination.

"by the way..." his steady voice filled the silence that had enveloped you, the sound invading your ears. you looked up, curious.

"you look lovely tonight."

he offered a small smile, eyes full of a certain fondness that you couldn't really convey from his gaze trained forward, voice soft yet full of raw honesty.

momentarily shocked, you quickly regain your bearings.

"take a look at yourself, doctor."

he grinned, amused.

"it's only natural to want to dress well when taking a beautiful lady out for the evening."

he hopes you know he means every word.

even if this is under the guise of helping you, he so carefully planned out these dates with your enjoyment in mind, having wanted nothing more than to indulge you in a more romantic atmosphere before losing you forever.

but you didn't need to know that.

when you didn't respond with another quip, he glanced over to you, catching sight of your sheepish expression.

"sure..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap.

the radio filled the silence, and you were only grateful for another sound to focus on besides your rapidly beating heart.

. . .

the longer the evening stretched, the harder it was for zayne to keep his composure.

dinner went smoothly. he made several points about this type of date, but noticed you asked far less questions than the past two times he'd taken you out.

once the "lesson talk" ceased, conversation and the usual teasing flowed easily between the two of you.

even with the various other guests in the dining room, its like his world was only enveloped by you.

he only ever saw you.

he took a sip of his drink, allowing himself to sink into the enjoyment of the evening for as long as he was allowed.

. . .

at some point, you decided that tonight was the night for a confession.

just... not in the way that you may have intended.

you think, after going on these "dates" with zayne, spending time together that was much more intimate than before did worse things for your long-lasting feelings, and if you were going to do anything about them, it had to be tonight.

even if he only ever saw you as a childhood companion. this might be the only way to finally, truly move on.

the night was still young by the time dinner was finished, and upon zayne's suggestion, you both decided to take a stroll around the area. it wasn't too crowded and was fairly lit up, and the weather was nice enough to take your time to simply sightsee a little.

how funny. the atmosphere was what one might call perfect for this.

conversation flows again like normal, and when a comfortable silence envelops the space, you encourage yourself to go through with it.

its now or never...!

you take a deep breath before starting.

"zayne?"

he hums.

"what happens if... my confession is rejected?"

he spares you a fleeting glance before looking straight back ahead.

"i wouldn't worry about that."

you can't help the pout that adorns your face at such a response.

"its always a possibility, isn't it?" you quip.

"i doubt it, in this such case."

his response is muttered, but you still catch it.

"well, what if he's weirded out, or— or what if he's never thought of me that way? what if i've only ever just been that 'childhood-companion-turned-nuisance because of the way i forced him into a friendship?"

your voice is quiet when you let the last admission slip from your lips.

"what if... he can't fathom the idea of loving me back because of how he sees me?"

you think you've said too much, that its clear you're no longer talking about caleb.

you both stop walking. the momentary silence feels deafening.

"is that what you think?"

his voice is hushed, but its still loud enough for your ears only. your mind is screaming at you.

its now or never—!

"zayne, i—"

he turns to you, looking straight into your eyes.

"i've loved you ever since we were children, even when i didn't quite comprehend the idea of what romantic love was yet. i have only ever had eyes for you, you're always on my mind, and i find myself looking forward to the time we spend together."

your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, heart pounding harder with every word that spills from the handsome doctor's lips.

"i know my timing isn't the best, but even i was unsure of the nature of our relationship. but..." his hand lifts yours towards his lips, and you feel a soft warmth graze the back of your palm.

"contrary to your belief, i don't think he could fathom the idea of not loving you."

when he finishes his confession, you think your heart might beat right out of your chest.

"forgive me," he murmurs, releasing your hands and taking a step back. you already miss his warmth, body tingling at the instinct to reach out and pull him close once more.

when silence envelops you both again, he presumes he won't get his answer tonight.

"its quite late. we should head back—"

before he can turn on his heel, you close the distance, hands latching on to one of his.

"zayne!"

startled, he looks down at you, face expressing pure surprise. but he doesn't push you away.

"i..." you breathe out a laugh, looking up at him as you feel tears well up in your eyes.

"i thought... you never felt the same."

zayne remains quiet, but his eyes hold shock. you squeeze his hand tighter, smiling.

"i always thought... you weren't interested in me, didn't see me that way. all these years, i had willed myself to forget about you, to bury my feelings. that's where caleb came in, but..."

a tear rolls down your cheek.

"they never left. i.... i've always loved you, too."

zayne takes in every word, and wonders for a moment if he might be dreaming.

when more tears fall and you release his hand to wipe them away, his moves up to cup your face, willing your gaze towards him.

"do you mean it?"

its a whisper in the wind, for your ears only.

"yes," you breathe, one hand holding his over your cheek, pressing yourself closer into his hold.

he huffs out a laugh, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"it seems neither of us are quite smart in this area, are we?"

you sniffle before laughing with him. he swipes away another stray tear with his thumb.

"so, your plan all along was to make me jealous enough to confess?"

you gasp, turning your face away from him.

"no way! i stopped trying that tactic a long time ago when i realized it didn't work."

the pout on your face is palpable. he grips your chin between two fingers, turning your face back to face him properly.

"what if i told you... it did work, its just that a certain someone wasn't the most observant?"

your eyes fill with surprise again.

"really?!"

"really."

you huff out a breath of frustration.

"wow, this is— wow."

he smiles, reaching for your hand and allowing you to make the move in interlacing your fingers together. you do so eagerly.

"come on, lets head to that cafe, it should still be open. i was promised a treat, after all."

you let out a playful scoff, looking up at the amused doctor.

"that was if you helped me to confess!"

"is that not what that was?"

you make an unamused sound in the back of your throat, and zayne only laughs.

"that sound is like the one the cat at your apartment makes when it hasn't had enough snacks."

"oh, hush," you urge, but only grip onto his hand tighter, almost as if to prove to yourself that this was indeed real.

a comfortable silence fills the space when zayne's steps slow. you look up at him, and notice him staring up at the sky.

"the moon looks beautiful tonight."

you look up in search of it to confirm his words, not noticing his gaze having shifted towards you by then.

"yeah," you smile, already knowing the underlying message woven into his words.

"so beautiful."

epilogue

"another thing."

your eyes flit up from your dessert to zayne's face, his eyes trained on the cake before him, dragging a piece with his fork, the sponge secure on the spikes.

"how could you ever think i considered you a nuisance?"

your eyes widen. right, you did admit that earlier...

you laugh sheepishly, poking at your pastry with your own fork.

"haha, well, when i thought back to it, it seemed like i was the one that forced my friendship upon you."

zayne tilts his head slightly, expression quizzical. you continue.

"i... was always the one dragging you around to play with caleb and i. even now, i guess it felt like you went along with what i wanted out of... obligation or pity or something."

zayne frowns at this, deepening at the edges when you finish this off with a laugh.

you peek up at him when he's been quiet for a touch too long.

"how odd."

you raise a brow at him.

you miss his hand raising up to pinch your cheek. you let out a small surprised yelp, swatting at his hand.

"hey—!"

"you should know by now that i don't do things i don't wish to, nor have i ever been known to have many friends."

he scoops up another piece of cake with his fork.

"so, if someone always went along with you instead of pushing you away, it must mean they wanted to spend time with you, maybe even found amusement in the way that someone always went out of their way to play and spend time with that person, yes?"

he shoves the cake into his mouth as he finishes. you're left staring dumbly at him, swatting movements halting as you process his words.

he squishes the flesh softly between his fingers, swallowing the sweet dessert.

"don't ever refer to yourself as a nuisance again. you're anything but, and i'll prove it to you time and time again if i must"

he releases your cheek, retracting his hand.

"if i didn't make it clear earlier, i always cherished you the most."

your heart warms, and you reflect the smile that peeks through zayne's lips.

"i bet i cherished you more," you tease, picking up a piece of your dessert with your fork.

"nonsense," zayne states almost dramatically, eyes narrowing at you playfully.

you laugh joyfuly.

what a dream it was that zayne li had always reciprocated the feelings that you felt for him all these years, you thought.

a/n: this is my apology for the last zayne fic that i did not like n almost deleted but left up bc someone liked it. will slowly work on the rest of the event fics ,fear not (thought ab extending it through the month/to white day? undecided :x) have this in the meantime bc i... like this zayne fic the most

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #lnds x reader #lnds x you #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne x reader #lads zayne x you #lnds zayne x reader #lnds zayne x you #l&ds zayne x reader #l&ds zayne x you

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