#be out of fear that at any moment she could lose her. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vickytaa · 2 days ago

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𝕯𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘? 𝕱𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙.

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔶: A new video in collaboration with Sam and Colby, where the group enters an abandoned church full of mysteries. What starts as an exciting adventure quickly turns into a nightmare. Y/n will have terrifying nightmares and must fight her fears after entering the darkness. Part 1. Part 2.

My vision was blurring, the nun's grip on my neck tightened, cutting off my air. She started to lift me by my neck.

With the little strength I had left, I tried to pull her hands from my neck, but I failed completely.

It was the end. My heart was slowly giving out from lack of oxygen. My arms slowly fell, and my body gave up.

The nun's sobs turned into laughter, a terrifying, proud laugh for taking another life.

My eyes were closing slowly, unable to stop shedding tears of fear.

“Y/n!” I heard Matt shout. I hadn’t realized he was awake, but luckily, he came in time. The nun disappeared as soon as he appeared, afraid of being seen.

The constant lack of oxygen had knocked me unconscious, and I fell to the floor with a hard thud. Matt rushed to me, afraid that if he touched me, I would break, I looked so weak.

He started talking, but I barely understood him. My mind was foggy, unaware of what was happening around me. The air was heavy, my whole body ached, but at the same time, I felt nothing.

A few seconds later, I slowly began to wake up, my eyes opening to see three figures in front of me. “I- I don’t know, Chris!” Matt said loudly, clearly stressed as he held my hand. “I was sleeping, and then I heard a glass break. When I came into the kitchen, Y/n was levitating, and- and I don’t know, I thought… I thought I was going to lose her,” Matt said as he began to sob. Nick wrapped his arm around his shoulders, trying to calm him down.

Trying to breathe normally, I began to feel a sharp pain in my back, and I remembered the glass I had dropped a moment ago.

I groaned in pain, and all three heads turned to look at me with concern.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Matt asked me, kissing my forehead. My back burned with pain, but my chest ached too, probably from the high level of anxiety and panic I had experienced moments ago.

I nodded, as I slowly began to breathe normally again. The tears started flowing once more; I had almost died. My body began to tremble, and the panic returned, but now I was surrounded by my best friends. While Matt held my hand tightly, Chris and Nick sat beside me, their faces showing nerves, panic, and fear.

"We're here with you, Y/n. The ambulance will be here soon," Nick tried to ease the tension. I tried to lift my head to look at my body, but the pain was too strong.

"Don't move, we need to make sure you don't have any broken bones," Matt told me.

A while later, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics put an oxygen mask on me and some IV fluid to ease the pain. My vision was still a bit blurry, and my mind was foggy, but I could see how Matt stayed by my side the entire time, answering all their questions and holding my hand.

I don't remember much else from there, as the IV they gave me took effect and I fell asleep. I woke up in a hospital bed, with Matt sitting beside me, thinking about how if he hadn't woken up, I probably wouldn't be here anymore.

The bright, cold light blinded me, and the air was filled with a strong smell of medicine. Despite being surrounded by the people I love most, I felt alone and scared.

I was so close to crossing the line, to going to the other side. So close to never seeing the love of my life again, to never eating my favorite food again, to never saying "I love you" again, to never feeling, loving, or living again.

My eyes started to fill with tears again, but I fought to keep them from falling. Matt looked devastated, as did everyone else in the room.

We all knew this wasn't over, of course not. We had to find a way to end the curse.

The silence was heavy, but it was quickly interrupted by the sound of the door bursting open. "Guys, I think we know what we need to do," Sam said excitedly, entering with Colby. The four of us turned to look at them, surprised but also curious about this new opportunity.

"We need to find someone who has a protective totem. The only problem is that it's almost impossible to find. Plus, the person has to help us activate it..." Colby said. "But where will we find one?" Chris asked.

The chances of finding a totem are almost impossible, and on top of that, someone to help us activate it? Don't even think about it.

We all looked at each other, knowing this was impossible. Matt was heartbroken, seeing me like this broke him into a thousand pieces, unable to help me in any way other than being by my side.

My mind was still a little foggy from the medicine, but I remembered something important. My grandmother. She's sure to help us.

"My grandmother..." I tried to speak, but it was hard to understand because of the IV. Everyone turned to look at me, waiting for me to repeat what I said. I coughed a little to clear my throat, "My grandmother... she can definitely help us."

My gaze met Matt's, which, behind all the worry, fear, and stress, held hope. And that's what mattered, the hope.

I gave him a weak smile, and he returned it. My gaze shifted to the others, still worried, faces. They all nodded, and now I could see a glimmer of hope in their eyes.

My still-weak arm, wrapped in bandages, reached for my phone. Searching through my contacts, I found hers and tapped it. After a few seconds, my grandmother answered.

"Hi, Jenny," I said softly. "Hello, sweetie! It's so nice to hear from you. How are you doing?" she asked. Her voice was calm, something that always made me relax when she read me stories as a child.

"I..." I didn't know where to start. I looked at Matt beside me, and he nodded, encouraging me to continue. "I have a problem, Grandma." Matt squeezed my hand gently, reminding me that he was with me, no matter what.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey. Tell me what happened," my grandmother asked. She was so calm, not knowing what had happened to me. She had always warned me about the dangers of delving into the unknown, and I hadn't listened. "I think it would be better if I told you in person."

We talked for a while, and we decided that we were going to go to her little cabin in the woods, and there I would tell her everything.

As soon as I ended the call, we begged the doctor to let me leave. He refused at first, saying that my condition was too dangerous if I didn't take care of myself. But after a long time of pleading, he finally let us go.

The six of us got into the car, now with a little more hope. I sat in the passenger seat while Matt took the wheel. Before starting the car, Matt rested his hand on my thigh and looked me in the eyes, "We'll get through this together, love," he said with a smile.

A familiar warmth grew in my chest, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach, just like the first day. I returned a warm smile, completely grateful to have him by my side.

It was about 2 in the morning, and everyone in the back was asleep, tired from the long day. Matt kept his eyes on the road. My body was begging for some rest, but I couldn't sleep. The fear of closing my eyes and returning to the darkness made my hair stand on end.

Matt noticed my eyes were tired but didn't say anything because he knew what was going through my mind. He began to move his thumb in small circles, caressing me, trying to calm me down.

A few hours later, we arrived at the cabin. It was a place far from the city, in the middle of a forest full of trees and nature. We knocked on the door, and my grandmother let us in, happy to have guests after so long.

"Make yourselves at home. I made some coffee if you'd like..." We all settled into the living room, a little tense but relieved to have arrived safely. "So," my grandmother sat in her chair. "You're going to tell me what happened?" she asked me.

I couldn't lie to her, not at this moment. I had to tell her the whole truth, without leaving anything out. It didn't matter if she was angry with me for not listening to her, she had to help us get rid of the evil inside of me.

"We went... we went to an abandoned church to investigate. I went into a room alone, and... I think something came with me." I lowered my head, unable to look her in the eye. My grandmother felt betrayed, but her concern for me was greater. "Tell me more about what happened inside the room."

I raised my head, surprised that she hadn't scolded me for not listening to her. I felt Matt's hand on my leg again, giving me the confidence to continue. I relived the memories in my head, the panic slowly returning, but I tried to push it aside so I could tell what happened. "I could barely see anything, just the wooden floor, which creaked under my feet. I walked a little, but the lack of light made me lose sight of the door. Suddenly I saw some paintings, some of faces, others of angels, and..." I took a breath, knowing the hardest part was coming.

"And I found a painting on the floor, it was of the devil." My grandmother's face changed to a more surprised and slightly frightened one. "When I got closer to look at it, the reflection of a nun appeared in the glass. But when I turned around, she was gone." She already knew what was happening, but she decided to let me finish explaining.

"I got scared and started walking towards the door to get out of there, but when I moved away from the wall, I saw nothing but the floor. It seemed like I was walking in circles. Suddenly-" my voice cracked. The panic I felt at that moment returned again. "You can do it, Y/n," Matt said softly, gently squeezing my thigh. I looked at him with a weak smile, took a deep breath, and continued, "A very deep voice said that I dared to enter the darkness. I panicked and started running, I- I was scared, Grandma," I confessed. My grandmother's tense expression softened, saddened that I had to go through such a terrifying experience.

"It's okay, sweetie, continue," I nodded and continued, "When I got to the door, I went out and there they were. Then, doing the 'estes method' I had another kind of vision..." the air in the room became denser the more I told the story.

"It's like it knew my fear of the dark. At night I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go to the kitchen for some water, and there the nun appeared. This time she stopped and tried to strangle me. If it hadn't been for Matt... I think I wouldn't be here." I turned to my side to look at Matt, silently thanking him for being there.

"I think... I think I've heard this story somewhere before..." My grandmother explained, standing up to search for her big book in her 'special place'. "It should be around here..." she said, searching among the large bookshelves. I heard one of the guys cough from the dust that had accumulated there over the years the place had been closed.

"Here," my grandmother said, opening a book that looked centuries old. Sleep was no longer important; my mind was completely focused on the book in front of me. My grandmother began searching through the pages for the solution to free me from the nun's evil.

"It says here that we need a protective totem, but to activate it we have to go to the place of origin and show it to the entity," my grandmother looked away from the book to meet my gaze. "No. No, no, no. I won't go back there. I can't, I-" I started to refuse, but my words were interrupted by Matt's. "Honey, it's the only thing we have left. Please, I can't see you like this anymore."

Matt's words hit me harder than I thought. Was it the last resort? Yes. Did I want to be free from this monster? Clearly. But the adrenaline I felt there was on another level, something I never wanted to experience again.

Besides, what if I don't show it to her in time? What if she tries to kill me again and succeeds?

I couldn't go back there. Never. But I also didn't want to live in fear, thinking that I could die at any moment.

"Okay, I'll do it." I finally agreed. My grandmother began to explain what I would have to do once I got there. When she finished, she gave me the totem, a small piece of gold with a green diamond in the center, representing its rarity and validity. The power of holding something like that in my hands was indescribable.

"It would be best if you all slept here tonight, and tomorrow when the sun sets we'll go to the church," my grandmother explained. We all nodded, and soon after we were sleeping in different rooms.

Even though I was still afraid to sleep, the security of being there, with Matt by my side, was enough to calm me down. He held me tightly all night, afraid that something would happen to me again.

In the blink of an eye, the sun came up and its rays pierced through the window, falling on my face and waking me from a deep sleep. I groaned, complaining about the sun in my face. Matt woke up and hugged me tighter, the smell of vanilla that came from his body filled my nostrils.

"Good morning, darling. Ready for today?" Matt said. Truthfully, no, I wasn't ready. Not at all. I was very scared, but I also knew it was the only option. I nodded silently. "Don't worry now, we still have several hours."

He was right, I didn't have to worry now because there was still a lot of time for that. So, I decided to clear my mind and enjoy this moment, cuddling with Matt and maybe sleeping a little more.

The sound of knocking on the door made me jump a little. "Breakfast is ready, kids!" My grandmother called us, even though we're already adults. These little gestures she does, like making us breakfast, letting us sleep here, is what makes her the best grandmother.

I smiled when I saw Matt's face, who was grateful not to have to make breakfast, but annoyed at having to leave the warm bed. I got up slowly, the pain in my back still hadn't gone away.

Matt followed me, and we both went downstairs to the kitchen. The guys were already sitting at the table, enjoying breakfast.

The day continued until night fell. The sunlight was no longer visible. "I think we should be on our way now," Matt said. Everyone nodded and we got into the truck. My grandmother brought a few things in case the release method didn't work, like holy water, a cross, etc.

The journey began, and soon after, a light drizzle started to fall. The sky was already completely black, and there was a little fog on the road.

This made the route a little more difficult to see. My mind was distracted, the scenes from the time at the church replaying in my head over and over again.

I was so focused on what had happened that I didn't realize we had arrived. "We're here," Matt said, turning off the car. I got out of the car, surprised again by the sheer size of the place. I couldn't take my eyes off it; it was as if something was calling me.

While the others were getting out, I decided to go inside. I opened the large stone door and went in alone. This time, the place was filled with candles and the man from before was gone. I started walking towards the altar; it was colder in there than outside. Suddenly I heard a noise of something moving, but when I turned around it was just a bird flying.

I continued to explore the place, the silence broken only by the sound of my footsteps. The walls were covered in dust, hiding the old paintings. I was so lost in exploring that I didn't hear the door close. Behind me were the guys calling my name, as it was dangerous for me to go in alone, but I didn't hear them. At the altar, a rusty crucifix seemed to hold the secrets of centuries past. Just thinking about the number of people who had come here sent chills down my spine.

There was no movement, no noise but my footsteps, no life there, nothing. It was as if time had stopped in this place, leaving behind only the imprint of faith and oblivion.

I was examining the altar when I started to hear a strange sound... a subtle, almost inaudible hiss, filling the place. The feeling of tension in the place grew and grew.

The air began to be difficult to breathe, my heart beating faster than normal. 'You're okay, Y/n. Nothing is going to happen.' I tried to remember Matt's words, calming myself in any situation. Looking around, I found the source of that sound. I slowly approached the holy water font, and strangely, the water inside it was evaporating.

"What the..." I whispered, as if someone could hear me. I slowly raised my gaze, following the smoke from the water, and there I found her.

The nun had her head down, but when she lifted it all the candles went out. Once again it was dark, but now I wasn't scared... was I? I tried to convince myself not to be afraid, but who am I kidding? I'm trembling.

It was the first time I'd looked into her eyes, as black as night, her skin as pale as an angel's, and her tears as red as blood. I tried to pull away, but she raised her hand and I fell to my knees. It was as if she now had control over my body. Tears streamed down my face, my sobs growing louder and louder. Suddenly, a supernatural force began to pull me towards the altar, gripping my legs.

"No! Help!" I screamed desperately. No one could hear my cries or pleas. With my nails, I tried to dig into the floor, leaving marks all the way to the altar.

Once there, I tried to stand, as the nun approached. When I managed to stand, the nun levitated me into the air. I screamed and screamed non-stop, slowly losing my last bit of strength. A deep, maniacal laugh escaped her lips, showing her complete contempt for my suffering. "Let me down!" I begged as she laughed.

My body began to give up, this time there was no one to save me. My eyes, red from too much crying, continued to shed tears of pleading and fear.

With a movement, the nun began to strangle me. The air was cut off, my mind fading, my strength waning. I closed my eyes, and that's when I saw it. Matt and I, smiling and loving each other as always. He was the reason I had to fight, to live, and to kill this evil entity.

I opened my eyes and gathered my strength to pull the totem from my pants and show it to the nun. "I'm not afraid of you!" I shouted, the nun's expression turning to one of fear. She began to scream as the totem emitted a light that burned her when it touched her body.

I fell from the air, landing abruptly on the floor. But I still held the totem in my hand, "You won't hurt anyone else anymore." The nun slowly turned to dust.

This was the end, after so much suffering, I was free. Tears of fear now turned into tears of happiness. When the nun disappeared completely, the door burst open, and Matt came running towards me. My knees were stuck to the floor, my body slowly filling with pain again, but it didn't matter, because now I was in Matt's arms, as he congratulated me on how strong I had been.

I cried with happiness as Matt showered me with kisses and told me sweet things. "I love you, Y/n," I heard before falling into a deep sleep.

You should never dare to enter the darkness.

𝐕 -

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lovelizards · 2 days ago

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"Now, Meres, can you tell me what it is you've done wrong?"

The weight of the slender man's legs as they crossed at the ankles and rested on Meres' shoulder was nothing compared to the intense pressure he felt under his master's cold gaze.

How long had it been since he'd been punished?

The moments where he found himself on his knees begging for forgiveness were few and far between in the last few years.

Since he was broken in, Meres had always been a good dog.

No matter what the order was, no matter how fraught his sleep was with the nightmares of things he'd been forced to do, he had done them without questioning.

"Meres." The slender man spat his name like an insult.

"F - forgive me, my lord, I -"

"I asked what you did wrong. I'm waiting for your answer."

"Ah, forgive me, I - I -" Meres hesitated, because the answer wasn't exactly as clear as he thought it was. Should he just apologise for everything all at once? Surely the punishment would be easier if he just got it all out and admitted his mistakes.

The slender man sighed, nudging his head with the side of a shoe.

"You've never been the brightest dog, but must I really repeat myself a third time? Don't you know you shouldn't do things you'll have to ask forgiveness for in the first place?"

"Y - yes, of course, my lord...I - I have been hesitant in following your orders. And - and I've been too familiar with your possessions. And - "

The slender man interrupted him with a kick to the face.

It was the shock of pain rather than the force of it that knocked him, unbalanced, onto his back. Hot blood streamed from his nose and he coughed on it.

With a heavy sigh, the slender man stood up, and put pressure against one of his legs with the flat of his shoe, straining the muscle. Meres grimaced against the pain, but dare not utter a sound.

"Usually I wouldn't care about a neutered dog playing with some wild bird, but it seems like that filthy thing is a bad influence on you."

"A - a bad -?" Meres coughed, "No, she - Iska isn't -"

"Don't you know how cunning a mage is, Meres?" The slender man's tone softened, "they will say and do anything for their own benefit. Did you suppose breaking the tether I have on you would win her over? That the two of you might run off to a happily ever after?"

Meres didn't dare meet the man's eyes.

It was true that he'd been trying to fight against the enchantment.

Iska had said only the weak-willed could be controlled. She...had believed in him, that he could fight it. The arcane mind control that sometimes blinded him and caused him to lose hours, days at a time in a haze -

He had thought if he could break it, maybe...maybe they could...together...

But the slender man knew, he always knew. There was no escaping him.

"Forgive me, my lord...it - it wasn't because of her, I - I get headaches...that's the only reason..."

Meres did his best, but the fear made his voice break. It felt impossible to craft any kind of lie in front of his master.

"You poor, sad beast..." the slender man sighed, "I can see that mage has truly gotten her talons into you."

"N - no, my lord, it isn't like that - I - I only - aagh!"

The slender man gripped Meres' face tightly, his palm flat against Meres' eyes and fingers pressing painfully against his temples.

"Listen to me well, Meres. Are you listening?" The slender man tightened his grasp and caused a shooting pain to rocket through Meres' head.

"Agh - y - yes, I - I'm listening my lord -"

"There is nothing for you in the world except serving me. What would you be without me? I gave you what pittance of magic you were able to absorb. I gave you a purpose. You were nothing when I found you, and you'll be nothing again if you ever were to leave."

The slender man's words rang and echoed strangely in his head, humming almost like a song, tolling low like a bell.

Meres clenched his teeth against it, but with his eyes forced closed there was nothing he could do to distract himself from it.

"That mage's very blood flows pure with mana, she is a mage the likes of which you could never begin to imagine. Even when I break her, she will still be more than a pathetic mutt like you."

The slender man was right. Meres was nothing. Not strong enough to defend himself. Not strong enough to break the mind control. Only as good as his strength. Nothing...nothing...

"A powerful mage..." Meres mumbled, feeling a strange numbness in his fingers, "Iska is..."

Iska...Iska...the name echoed again and again in his mind.

Somewhere, swimming in the fog, like a weak flickering light against a darkness, he found her face. The soft of her lips, the brush of her fingers, her sharp eyes and her voice like a melody when it called his name.

"Poor Meres," the slender man said gently, "so strong of body, yet so weak of mind..."

"Yes...I - I am weak. Forgive me, my lord...I never meant to..."

The slender man slowly pulled his hand away, but Meres kept his eyes closed. He wanted to keep the image of Iska in his mind for as long as he could.

The only light he had ever known in this cold, dark place.

"Retire to your room. I am busy now, your punishment will come later."

"Yes, my lord..."

Meres stood, his legs aching. He finally opened his eyes, wincing against the pale white light of day filtering in through the curtains.

He could feel the beat of his own heart, not racing, but drumming a steady march. Maybe...when he told Iska how he'd been fighting against the enchantment...

Maybe she would reach out to him, touch his face gently.

And if they could...somehow...leave this place...

Even if he became nothing, as long as he was by her side...

Then maybe some day he could see her smile at him.

And that would be enough.

#whump #whump art #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #manipulation #magic mind control #implied noncon body modification #just in case #tw violence #IskaMeres #a rare post with no lady whump to be seen #but i had the image of the slender man resting his legs on meres like a table and couldnt get it out of my head #i literally beg you not to look at the anatomy issues i do not know what im doing

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otomes-and-tears · 1 day ago

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Can you do another soulmate au with Qiu and Tamarack but mc moves in at step two (I'd assume they'd basically end up the same way without the mc being there)? Qiu in particular would be interesting to see cause of how closed off they are lol

Anyway love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

♦ You can only see grey until you meet your soulmate for the first time with Qiu and Tamarack step 2 ♦

► tags and warnings: Soulmate! Au, Based on this post

► words: 2406

► A/N: Hi! I didn't know if you wanted the same type of soulmate AU or a different kind, so I wrote the same! If you're interested in seeing a different kid, just drop a request and I'll be glad to write something <3

► Masterlist

Tamarack

If the idea of a soulmate, as a child, made Tamarack indifferent, it now filled her with fear.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that, she was sure. Not like she’d ever admit to these feelings to anyone— Finding your soulmate was a goal to strive towards, a consolation on difficult days.

It’s what all romance books centered around. It’s the topic of all of the songs people listen to on the radio, the advice columns on magazines the girls much cooler than her read.

It’s a daunting notion, perhaps, but a natural one. Her soulmate will appear when she least expects, her world will fill with colours she had never particularly wished to see, and she will be granted a companion for as long as both shall live. The other half of her soul, a missing limb she had never noticed was gone.

But how could she ever muster up excitement for it when her future was so uncertain?

Maybe her soulmate was back at her old home, at the school she’d have attended if her parents had kept her instead of leaving her with her grandparents. Or maybe, if they followed through on their promises to take her back, she’d just miss her soulmate moving into the perpetually empty, likely haunted, house in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

A soulmate could be the anchor she’d always wished for, a tether somewhere, but it could just as easily twist into another loss, another painful what-if to occupy her thoughts.

And losing the one thing you wished for isn’t terrifying?

So she continues living her life. Hoping that she’s just another person to meet their soulmate just a little later in life— her parents had met in college, after all. Things would just work out if the universe could hold out for just a while longer, until her family’s mess could finally settle itself or she was old enough to make her own choices, put down roots somewhere she was certain they wouldn’t be cruelly ripped out the soil.

She had heard many tragic tales of the sort, after all. Soulmates that meet briefly only to be torn apart. People who are meant to each other, but who are destined to just weave in and out of each other’s lives, only having brief, blissful moments together.

She hates to admit it, but the idea of suffering such a fate keeps her awake, sometimes.

Tamarack was tired of holding her breath and waiting for other people to make decisions for her. Soulmates were a cosmic matter, beyond the reach of any plea or plan. And if people could be fickle and unreliable, she doubted the universe would be any more inclined to listen to her wishes.

Every year that passed, with her world continuing to be coloured in the greyscale she was so fond of, made her just a little more hopeful, dimming the fear and anxiety she had long grown used to.

But things have a way of changing when you least expect it.

This Halloween was different. It was her first as a teenager, and she had obsessed over her costume for weeks. How could she not? Everything felt more important this year, like the tiniest details suddenly carried the weight of her entire identity. Adding to the excitement, her Omi had mentioned something Tamarack couldn’t stop thinking about: after years of vacancy, someone had finally moved into the empty house next door.

Before she could head out for her own festivities, her omi invites her to deliver her homemade sweets to the new neighbours.

Tamarack stood on the porch of her grandparents’ house, the evening’s chill nipping at her nose. She adjusted her cape— a flimsy, dollar-store last minute addition to an otherwise well-planned witch costume. Her Omi had insisted on the traditional sweets, meticulously wrapped and sealed in clear plastic with small bows. Tamarack clutched the basket, feeling every bit the reluctant Little Red Riding Hood.

“Go on, sweetheart…” her Omi urged from the doorway, every bit as boisterous as she always was “First impressions are important!”

First impressions, Tamarack thought bitterly, only mattered if you planned on sticking around. Still, she trudged across the lawn to the new neighbor’s house, pausing at the edge of the worn wood porch, and the sparse decorations out on the lawn. It brought a smile to her face— the residents had likely not fully moved in yet, but they at the very least bothered to decorate for the occasion.

Her heart thudded as she raised a hand to knock, suddenly a little nervous. She looks back at her grandmother, who seems impatient enough to do it for her when suddenly…

The door swung open, and Tamarack’s breath caught in her throat.

A kid stood there, about her age, also wearing a costume, trying to add in the last accessories while answering the door. Behind them, she can see boxes piled into the living room.

“Uh, hi…” they said, eyes darting to the basket in her hands. “Trick-or-treat?”

Tamarack blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of the basket.

“Oh, um, no. I mean, yes. Sort of? My grandmother…” She looks back towards her grandmother for a moment “Wanted me to bring these over.”

Before she can offers the sweets, the kid’s mother, appears behind them— her Omi’s attention quickly shifting to the other adult as they commence introductions. Tamarack shyly, albeing awkwardly thrusts the basket forward, as a peace offering.

Her new neighbour looks up for the first time, her red eyes meeting theirs.

It was like a silent firework had gone off in her mind, flooding every corner with color. The drab greyscale of the world she had grown so accustomed to was suddenly replaced by shades she didn’t have words for. The red of their costume was vibrant and rich, and the soft yellow light from the porch lamp bathed their features in a warmth that seemed dream-like.

Her knees felt weak, and her hands trembled as she tried to process the transformation. She glanced down at her own costume, marveling at the green hue of her skirt, the deep black of her cape that somehow seemed darker than before.

They were staring at her, wide-eyed. Their grip on the basket slackened, and a few candies tumbled out.

“You’re seeing it too, right?” they whispered.

Tamarack nodded slowly. She leans down to grab the fallen candies just as her soulmate does. When their hands touch, they both pull back like it’s fire.

The moment is awkward for just a second— before she laughs, and accompanies her.

Her heart pounded in her chest as a thousand thoughts jumbled together—fear, confusion, disbelief. She had spent years imagining this, dreading it, preparing for a moment that always seemed far away, out of reach.

Now, it was here.

Her world had changed in the blink of an eye, and she hadn’t even had time to catch her breath.

“I wasn’t ready for this.”

She admitted softly, barely more than a whisper. The fallen candies back in her basket, and her heart feeling just a tad lighter.

“Same…” Her soulmate replied, in disbelief. “Well… It isn’t as bad like I feared it would be.”

Surprisingly, she shares the sentiment.

Behind them, her Omi and MC’s mother were deep in conversation, already swapping stories and laughter as though they had known each other forever.

Tamarack barely noticed. Everything around her felt distant— muted compared to the colors she couldn’t stop staring at.

She forced herself to take a breath, steadying her nerves. This wasn’t what she had planned. It wasn’t what she wanted. But maybe… maybe it didn’t have to be as terrifying as she thought. Maybe this wasn’t the end of her carefully constructed world, but the start of something else.

Qiu

There was once a time in which Qiu longed to find their soulmate.

Back when things were brighter, easier. When the idea of finding the person that stood on the other side of their invisible string felt like an inevitability, a cheat code to meeting a new friend— their perfect equal, the way to make their life just a little more perfect. Golden grove was a little boring, but it was a little town brimming with potential, filled with wonderful things, little secrets, they knew of, and they were eager to share with their perfect match.

That hope belonged to a different version of Qiu, though.

A younger, more naive one. The boy with sparkling eyes and an eager need to please who he once believed themselves to be.

Now, it felt like a memory from someone else’s life, not their own.

Regardless, it was a hope Qiu had held onto for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Even when things became less certain, and making new friends became a chore rather than an exciting prospect, they still hoped anyway.

Fantasised about their eyes meeting when they took their bows at the end of a ballet recital, the world blooming into colour as they found them in a crowd, eyes soft and adoring, their appearance shifting with every second they conjured their little daydream— not knowing what they would look like, but wishing that, just at having a glimpse of them in a dream, Qiu would just know.

Or perhaps in the bustling halls of school, a casual brush of shoulders with a new transfer student would change everything.

It occupied their thoughts during boring classes or frustrating days when no one understood them, no matter how much they tried to speak: the ever-shifting face of their soulmate, the kind eyes, the idea that someone would be able to tell them who they were, someone who’d instinctively know.

Not having found their soulmate, despite their increasingly desperate attempts to do so throughout their childhood, had been just another in a long list of disappointments in Qiu’s life.

It was just another testament to a fact that terrified them: they didn’t know who they were, nor who they were supposed to be. People around them had an idea— expectations, their own stifling view of who Qiu Lin was, and the more they insisted on it, the less Qiu wished to fulfil their expectations.

Like with most other things, in recent times, they had just stopped trying.

Why should they even bother with a soulmate, anyway? They had lost so much time together already. The colours their parents had described sounded headache inducing, the idea of a soulmate stifling in a way it hadn’t before. They stopped greeting colleagues in the hallways and avoided any chance to meet new people. Their friendship circle was small, and ever dwindling— And it was better this way.

A soulmate would just be another person to disappoint, after all. Like the list wasn’t long enough already. It was better for them, and for the poor soul tethered to them, if they didn’t meet at all.

For that reason, the first day of high school was terrifying.

Golden Grove’s only school rarely got transfers. The golden-haired whirlwind that was Tamarack, their neighbour, had been an exception. But what made Qiu particularly anxious was the sinking feeling that this was it. That something was in the air. Some deep, impending change they were too small to ever possibly stop.

They couldn’t stop it, but they could delay it, whoever.

If locking themselves in their room wasn’t an option, which Qiu was sure it wasn’t, then the solution was simple. Instead of heading straight to school, Qiu veered off course, slipping into the woods that gave Golden Grove its name. The golden leaves heralding autumn crunched beneath their sneakers as they made their way to the old bridge over the creek. It was a cherished spot, a secret place they’d often escaped to as a kid.

The boy’s club, with Tamarack as an honorary member, had once made it their domain.

They throw their gym bag on the floor, huffing as it falls with a thump on the top steps, leading to the small bridge. Qiu slumps right beside it, fishing their phone out of their pockets to shoot a quick message to Ren, reassuring him that they’d show up eventually, and putting some music on.

The crisp morning air helped clear their thoughts, even if the anxiety still simmered beneath the surface.

Skipping a few hours of school seemed worth the inevitable lecture they’d get at home. For now, they could breathe, even if just for a little.

“Excuse me…”

An unknown voice sounds from right behind them, above the sound of their music. They’re momentarily taken aback. No one ever came here. It was a local secret. Who else would be in a bridge in the woods in the early morning hours?

A gasp escaped their lips as the vibrant hues overwhelmed them. Blues, oranges, and reds assaulted their senses, a kaleidoscope of shades they had no names for.

It was too much.

Qiu squeezed their eyes shut, reeling from the sudden intensity.

The stranger staggered too, pages from a notepad— Qiu’s notepad, slipping from their grasp and scattering across the bridge steps. Their wide eyes darted around as if trying to process the same blinding shift.

Qiu’s heart raced, cautiously grabbing one of the fallen pages. A note they had made a few weeks ago on ideas for Ren’s birthday gift.

Had they led their soulmate straight to them without realizing it? The colours were no less dazzling now that they started getting used to them, but the feeling was slightly more bearable. The stranger’s hair gleamed like sunlight, their features sharp yet soft, framed by a hesitant, confused, smile.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, voice shaky but kind. They crouched to gather the rest of the fallen pages, glancing up at Qiu with equal parts concern and awe.

Qiu’s mouth went dry. Words tumbled through their mind but refused to align into a coherent sentence.

They’d dreamed of this moment for years, yet nothing had prepared them for the overwhelming reality of actually meeting them.

“I…” They swallowed hard, trying again. “I didn’t think…”

The stranger smiled softly, offering a hand.

“Me neither.”

Qiu hesitated before taking it.

Their hands touched, and the colors seemed to pulse, brighter and warmer, as if the universe was reaffirming the connection. For the first time in years, Qiu felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, they hadn’t been wrong to dream after all.

#olnf #our life now and forever #bee's writing #qiu lin #our life qiu #tamarack baumann #our life tamarack #qiu lin x reader #tamarack x reader #olnf hcs #olnf x reader #olnf fanfiction

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lexosaurus · 3 days ago

Text

Everything Was White: Part 25

[see all chapters]

read on: [ao3] [ffn] (please read tags)

Summary: After being accidentally revealed to the public and taken away by the government, Danny deals with the aftermath of his time with the GIW.

****

"You can't stay inside forever, Danny," his mother told him that morning as he tried to eat his sad, soggy cereal.

"I know, Mom," he snapped. Because he did know, Captain Obvious. But it still didn't make today any less nerve-racking.

"You'll be fine. Your friends will be there with you, and Sam has her car, right? So the only walking you'll be doing is from her car to inside the restaurant."

Danny scowled at his spoon. "It's not the walking I have a problem with, and it’s not like I’m using my crutches anyway."

There was no saying how long they would be out, and using his crutches for longer than a few minutes was still exhausting. So no, that wasn’t the reason he was so on edge about this.

The truth was, this was officially the first time Daniel Fenton Phantom was going to be out and about in public.

"People will leave you alone. And worst case, just leave!" Maddie offered a smile as she plucked his now-empty bowl from the table. "This is a big step, but your therapists have been telling you for some time now that you need to do this. It'll be fine, you'll see."

It was just lunch at the Nasty Burger. He'd done it hundreds of times before. And this time, because his parents were just so proud of him for taking this big step, sweetie, Jack had even left him a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the table that morning.

Apparently, Jack had chalked his last wad of missing cash up to ghosts. Assuming that Danny would ever do something like stealing was simply unthinkable.

Danny went about his morning, showering, putting fresh clothes on, and combing his hair no fewer than three times because what if he couldn't convince the public that he was normal? What if they all saw him as a grotesque, dead monster in a human skin suit? Or worse, a traumatized, skinny, weak kid that the Guys in White had trained into their pet plaything?

No, he wasn't a dog, and he could cover up all his fears under shampoo, washed clothes, and a friendly smile that he tried to practice in the mirror but felt silly enough to stop.

And then the doorbell rang.

His core sizzled, and he was almost too slow to stamp it out, to remind himself that it was just Sam and Tucker, that there were no government agents at the door, Danny.

His therapist had said this adrenaline response was natural. Still, it infuriated him the way his heart pounded and fingers tingled pins and needles whenever someone approached the other side of a closed door.

"Danny!" Sam bounded through the entrance.

He barely remembered to put on that smile he'd practiced in front of the mirror that morning. "Hey, Sam! Tucker!"

"Dude!" Tucker pranced inside like he owned the place. "This has been such a long time coming!"

"Yeah, it was kind of—kind of hard for me to get out before."

"No worries, man!" Tucker offered him a high five, and though Danny rolled his eyes, he met his friend halfway.

"Eating alone with Tucker has been torture," Sam lamented, her dark purple lips setting in a pout. "There's only so many times I can take him drooling over his beef environmental disasters by myself before I lose my sanity."

"Well, don't worry, Sammykins, because now you'll have to witness the power of two of us drooling over our beef environmental disasters!"

Sam slugged Tucker in the arm, and although Danny could see there was little power behind it, Tucker still made a big show about gripping his shoulder and wailing, "You wound me, woman!”

"Shut up!" Sam cackled.

Danny watched the dramatic performance as if he were standing on the other side of a glass wall. Every time the three of them hung out, he noticed these little moments more and more. Moments where Sam and Tucker seemed like they were from another planet.

Or maybe Danny was the one from another planet. The hopeless alien trying to blend in with the humans.

"Alright, let's go?" Danny asked, not wanting to delve further into his depressed psychology.

Tucker snapped out of his performance. "Let's go!"

"My car's in your driveway. You good to get in on your own? I mean—uh—" Sam stammered, glancing at Danny's wheelchair.

Right. He hadn't driven with his friends before.

"I'm good. You just—um, throw it in the—you know what? I'll show you." Danny transferred from the couch and headed for the door.

It was warm for a typical January day in Amity Park. There was no paparazzi outside their house either—thank god. Danny was last year's sensational hit, and his overnight fame seemed to be beginning to die down.

Not that he was becoming obscure by any means. He was still on the front page of Reddit nearly every day, and his tag on TikTok had thousands of videos and millions of interactions. But the constant bombardment of people stalking him outside his house was finally dispelling.

Of course, this only added fuel to the fire that was his parents’ recent insistence on him going outside. The paparazzi would find him eventually as they always did, and there was nothing he could do about people recording videos of him to post on social media, but Danny would at least get a semblance of normalcy.

He followed them out of the house and into the driveway where Sam’s car—a hybrid, she’d been very proud to show off—was waiting for them. He climbed into the car. The passenger seat, because although Danny was fully expecting Tucker to call shotgun, he hadn't.

"So I just put it in the back?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. The brakes are on, so just put it in as is. It won't move or anything."

"Alright." Sam picked up his wheelchair as if she were picking up a baby for the first time. Nervous, hesitant, as if afraid it would break under the lightest touch.

He remembered when he was like that too. Scared he would break it by shifting his weight even slightly incorrectly. But those days had long since passed.

Sam slipped into the driver's seat just in time for Tucker to lean over the center console. "Alright, Team Phantom! Nasty Burger time!"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Sam groaned, but Danny could see her smiling.

With little more fanfare than a nervous glance Danny's way, she turned the car on and backed out of his driveway.

"Should we get milkshakes, too?" Tucker asked. "I mean, what am I even saying? Of course we're going to get milkshakes! Duh! It's Danny's first time out since...since..."

"July," Danny finished all too quickly.

An awkward silence settled over the car. Tucker tried to save it. "Wow, that long? That's..."

He wasn't successful.

"It's okay! Uh, we're really happy that—that you…" Sam's voice also stammered.

God, the awkwardness between him and his friends was painful. Okay, it was Danny's turn to step in. Maybe a joke to ease the tension?

"Yeah. Well, you know, I was—I was too busy being kidnapped."

The dead silence grew, and Danny's heartbeat stuttered. He mentally kicked himself for bringing that up when he absolutely was not ready to talk about it with his friends.

If only they could see that he was Phantom again. That he had his core back and he was fine, he was okay. He wasn't some weak kid anymore, this helpless, fragile child.

"Yeah..." Tucker said, looking at Danny like he had spinach in his teeth and he was too nervous to tell him.

"Listen, I'm good, guys, seriously. I'm just looking forward to—to eating my body weight in Nasty Burger fries," he lied.

He’d wanted to take extra measures that morning to ensure the looming red bag wouldn’t be a problem, but he needed to be careful. Sam and Tucker knew him better than anyone else. He couldn’t take too much medication or they’d know something was up. But if Danny had a freak-out in the middle of the Nasty Burger, what would they do? How would they react? Would they agree with his parents and say that Phantom should never come out again?

Well, they already thought that, actually. That's why they didn't help him get Frostbite to take his chip out. That's why Danny had to turn to Vlad of all people.

Danny tried to shove that particular strain of bitterness away and tune back into their conversation. Sam and Tucker were chatting about…something that happened in their science class. Danny didn't know what because he wasn't in their science class. He was in the Learning Center because he couldn't handle being in a normal classroom. At least, not yet.

“Yeah, but you’ll be back soon,” Sam said.

Oops, had he said something out loud?

"We wouldn't be in the same class anyway. You're in—in honors," Danny said. He turned to her, incredulous. "Do I look like an honors kid to you?"

"Well, you never know!" Sam said. “I’m not in honors everything, you know.”

"Yeah, we could be in the same English class!" Tucker said. “I’d rather die than join Sam in honors English hell, after all.”

“Maybe. But knowing me, they’ll invent a new—a new class below all the other ones.”

"Nah, no way you're leaving me alone with Valerie. You know she's been trying to talk to me, right? She knows we know she's the Red Huntress. She keeps asking about you."

He did not, in fact, know that Tucker and Valerie had spoken.

"What'd she say?" Danny asked, trying to seem casual as their car passed by a group of joggers who didn't so much as bat an eye at their normal car passing by. He was too used to people staring at the GAV.

"Uh…you know…" Tucker began, waving his hand around. "She said she was sorry for being rude or whatever—you know, back before she noticed my stunning good looks and charm!"

Sam snorted. "You're so full of it."

Danny found it difficult to find the humor. "Seriously, what?"

"Just the normal stuff you'd expect. You know, the same sorts of questions everyone else has. Was wanting to know how long we'd known you were Phantom, and how we'd helped out with the ghost fights and stuff. Nothing really special."

Danny had forgotten that Sam and Tucker had become somewhat public figures when he had been both thrust into the spotlight and taken from them. It was short-sighted of him to believe that they would have been left alone in Casper High

Sam pulled into the Nasty Burger parking lot. "She's been trying to talk to me, too. Same as Tucker. Have you talked to her at all?"

“No,” Danny lied, glancing at the red-and-white building. "You know if she still works here?"

"Nah," Tucker said. "She quit last fall. I think Vlad gave her a raise."

That was good. It meant there was little chance Danny would run into her again.

The car came to a stop. The drive had seemed much too short. Though, Danny suspected that even if the drive had lasted three hours, he would still think it was too short. Inside the car, he was safe, he was anonymous. But outside?

Outside, he was none of those things.

Danny took a breath in. Held. Then, on the exhale, said, "Okay." He looked at the gray ceiling of the car if only to avoid his friends' eyes. He didn't want to know if they were looking at him with pity or concern.

He opened his eyes and went to open the door when he noticed the large black SUV parked directly next to them. "Wait, Sam, uh—sorry. Sorry, I can't...you need to..." His cheeks heated up, and he felt the weight of the disabled parking placard in his hoodie pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it over in his fingers.

Sam's eyebrows knit in confusion, but then her eyes met the distinct blue and white stick figure, and her eyes lit up. "Oh shit! Sorry—totally forgot. Force of habit."

She turned the car back on, and Danny's cheeks only heated more. "Not—not a big deal. It's…it's not the distance. It's the space."

"No, no, I get it," Sam said.

Tucker leaned over the center console, not bothering to buckle his seatbelt again for the ten-second drive. "Listen, Danny, all I'm saying is that I can totally piggyback you over to the curb."

"I'd rather take my chances crawling, thanks."

"You're no fun!"

"Tucker, you can barely lift a wet paper bag," Sam quipped.

"You too? Come on, I've put on muscle this year!" He flexed his arm, though nothing bulged out from the sleeve of his baggy hoodie.

Sam snorted. "Doing what? Lifting your pencil from your desk every day?"

"No! I've totally been going to the gym, Sam!"

If he had, that was news to Danny.

But apparently, Sam knew exactly what he was talking about. She parked the car again and turned it off, saying, "Your New Year's resolution doesn't count! You've gone what, like three times so far? That's not exactly going to get you gains."

Tucker mimicked her lead, throwing open the car door and sliding out of his seat. "I told you, I'm easing into it! They say people fail because they go too hard too fast. Hell, you were the one that told me that!"

"Yeah, but I also told you it was important to establish a routine. Have you done any of that?"

"I'm working up to it, woman!"

Danny was about to yell out to his friends, "Hey! I'm still in here! Don't forget about me!" but thankfully, just as the awkwardness was beginning to get to him, Sam opened the trunk of the car and gently pulled his wheelchair out.

"Do I undo the breaks or…?" she called over.

"No, just leave them. I have to, um, transfer."

"Right! Duh!" Sam set the wheelchair next to his door.

Danny tried to make this transfer seem as fluid as possible. He tried to descend out of the car with the practice of someone who had had a spinal cord injury for a decade and was confident in their own body, thank you very much, but he couldn't help but notice the way Tucker awkwardly shuffled nearby, or the child with its eyes glued on Danny as his mother yanked him through the Nasty Burger doors, admonishing him because it's rude to stare.

He was fine. He was fine. It was only the Nasty Burger. He had come here a million times before.

He undid the brakes and gripped the rims of his wheels, his palms clammy against the sleek metal. He felt so small between Sam and Tucker. He was usually half the height of everyone else, but the gap felt so much greater out in public. He wondered how long it would take before someone posted a video of him on social media. This would almost certainly make the fame worse again.

Maybe people would see that he was just trying to return to his old life and would leave him alone. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he stamped it out. No way would that ever happen.

"Okay, let’s go! I'm fucking starving!" Tucker said, ushering the pace along. He ran ahead and held open the door nice and wide. "Come on, you guys are so slow! Make way, make way, the world's slowest people might come through!"

In times like these, Danny was almost grateful for Tucker's dorky obnoxiousness, if only to help quell some of his seemingly never-ending anxiety.

He opened his mouth to say something about Tucker being a little shit and maybe a threat about sleeping with one eye open that night when his voice died in his throat.

Friend groups and families of all ages packed the Nasty Burger as the weekend lunch rush commenced. And Danny could see them, the people whose eyes lazily glanced over to the loud teen at the door, spotted Danny, and froze. Then they nudged their friends, who also turned to stare at Danny.

The whispers started, and the cell phones rose.

"That's really him?"

"No way!"

"Do you think that means Phantom's back?"

Phantom was back, but Danny couldn't say that much. He could only sit here and grind his teeth into silence.

Meanwhile, Sam and Tucker seemed to be faring far better with the whispers and blatant videoing of their trio. Maybe they were used to it. Or maybe they were trying to pretend everything was normal for Danny because he was fragile now, he couldn't handle the pressure last time that's what landed him in inpatient.

"I keep telling you to come to the gym with me," Sam chatted animatedly. "I'll show you how to build a solid routine!"

"Oh yeah, because sticking to a rigid routine is exactly what I'd call having fun at the gym," Tucker snarked. "Seriously, do I look like the kind of person who'd be into that?"

"You're impossible sometimes, you know that?"

Tucker only offered his signature shit-eating grin in return. "And you still love me anyway!"

Once again, Danny was not a participant in their banter.

"Okay, I seriously wasn't joking before that I'm starving! I didn't eat breakfast."

"That's what you get for waking up late."

"Yeah, yeah. What are you, my mom?"

Danny forced himself to join the conversation as they got in line. Primarily, to distract himself from the blatant onlookers. And, perhaps also, to show that he was a normal kid with normal friends. "What are you gonna get?"

"Triple Nasty combo," Tucker answered automatically. "And probably a milkshake on the side. Duh!"

"That's so much food. The poor animals," Sam said.

"Yeah, and I'll eat it all too. You watch!"

"I'd rather not."

"Well, I already know you're getting a tofu melt because you hate fun. So what about you, Danny?" Tucker asked.

Danny shrugged. He wasn't sure he could eat with his stomach practicing gymnastics inside his torso. The smell wasn't horrible in the Nasty Burger, but it still had that slight processed scent that made Danny's eyes think that every red booth they spotted in passing was a vestige of the red bag.

Shit, now his brain was thinking about it. He wanted to stop thinking about it. Just stop, Danny, it's not that hard.

People got behind him in line. He could hear their whispers.

"…so small in person…"

"…feds messed him up…"

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Normal kid. He was a normal kid.

"Danny?" Sam's tone was too gentle.

He looked up to see that they were now standing in front of the register, and a nervous-looking teenager was staring openly at him. People around gave him a wide berth, most openly gawking at this point. The rims of his wheelchair felt cold, and then he realized shit, that was just the ecto-frost on his palms threatening to freeze him to the floor.

"Um…" Danny pretended to look at the menu, but his eyes couldn't really focus on anything. "I guess a…uh…just—just a regular Nasty Burger. And, um, fries."

That was a normal teenager thing to order, right?

"What, no milkshake?" Tucker asked.

"Not—not that hungry," Danny admitted. He tried to remember if he would have ordered a milkshake in the past. He probably did, right? His shrunken stomach was supposed to be back to normal now, according to his doctors, but he still didn't feel like it was.

"Aw, for real?" Tucker said, but he snapped himself out of it quickly, clasping a hand on Danny's shoulder and flashing a grin. "Don't worry, because I'm such an amazing friend, I'll let you share mine!"

"Oh, yeah, thanks."

The cashier rang him up—only slightly stuttering when she pressed a wrong button and apologized five times for making him wait an extra few seconds—and then the trio headed for a table.

"Needs to be off to the side," Danny said, realizing there was no way he could fit through the narrow aisles in the middle of the packed joint. "Not near the front windows, though."

Like hell was his face going to be the first that everyone saw when they entered the restaurant.

Sam was way ahead of him, though, already beelining for a table along the side. Danny followed with Tucker in tow yapping about some glitch he'd discovered in whatever video game he was playing. Danny appreciated the effort, truly. Video games used to be the primary thing that they bonded over. But now, Danny didn't even recognize the title, and he realized that he wasn't too interested in trying it for himself.

As they passed by the crowd, people practically leaped out of the way. When a middle schooler with her back turned was partially blocking Danny's path, her friends yanked her aside so hard that Danny thought the poor kid was going to fly headfirst into a table. But then she turned, saw him, and her eyes grew comically wide as she yelled, "Oh shit!"

Her friends, of course, giggled uncontrollably at that, chiding their friend for being "so oblivious, oh my god!"

Yeah, this was fine. He was just a normal teen at a Nasty Burger. There was nothing to yell about.

In another universe, they would have sat at a booth along the outer perimeter of the fast food joint. After all, booths were always superior. But not now, not when sitting in a booth meant abandoning his wheelchair to the aisle where the general public could trip and spill their drinks on it.

Danny didn't have to ask Sam to move one of the chairs off to another table. He scooted himself in as if this were rehearsed and they'd done this before, as if this were a normal Saturday routine for them and Danny wasn't so anxious he thought he might actually sink through the floor.

"This is why you never get any better at games, though," Sam snapped at Tucker.

It took Danny a few seconds to realize that they were still in the middle of a conversation.

"But it's fun! Come on, Danny, back me up!"

Danny blinked owlishly at him. "What is?"

There was the barest hint of a flicker in Tucker's face. A brief moment where his eyebrows began pulling together, where his lips dropped, where his eyes flashed, before he pulled his cheeky smile back on and answered in the same bright, whiny tone, "Exploiting the system, of course!"

If Danny hadn't known any better, he would have excused that as a trick of the light.

"But if you spend the entire time cheating, then you'll never actually develop any skill! See, this is why I always crush you one-on-one," Sam argued.

"Yeah but it's fun," Tucker reiterated.

Danny attempted to put on his best bro-code as he backed Tucker up with what was probably an extremely convincing, "Right."

Sam pressed her lips together, and Danny's fingers twitched for his pocket where a little plastic baggy awaited him.

He was not doing well at this whole pretending-to-be-normal thing. Maybe at home it was less obvious, but here, surrounded by dozens of other normal people, his little quirks were too glaring. Too freakish.

If he could take up the offerings of the small plastic bag in his pocket, he could pass as normal. But then Sam and Tucker would know something was up, and oh god, everyone was watching him, right? There were whispers everywhere. Why was being normal so easy for Sam and Tucker? Why couldn’t he be like them?

Maybe the pills were like his wheelchair or crutches. He couldn't be normal without them. He was a freak, a zoo animal in an exhibit, and everyone knew it. Maybe he belonged in a little cage where everyone could watch him, point and whisper, one with white walls and white floors and—

A kid stumbled forward, knocking into his wheelchair. Danny turned, and the child hid his face behind his stubby fingers and backed away. He bumped into his parents, who gently said, "Go on," and pushed him forward again.

The child, who couldn't have been older than six, approached him again, now peeking rather obviously out of his fingers. A tuft of dirty blond hair sat on a head almost too large for his body. But Danny immediately zeroed in on the child’s black shirt with a familiar white logo on his chest.

Why was this kid wearing his shirt when Phantom hadn't made an appearance in months?

"Hi." The kid stood beside Danny and dropped his fingers from his face. He rocked back and forth on his heels, barely able to hide his nervous excitement as he asked, "Can I take a picture with you?"

Danny's mouth dried instantly. He glanced at Sam’s and Tucker's reassuring expressions before turning back to this bouncing child.

Phantom had taken lots of pictures with kids before. But Fenton? Well, before the reveal, Fenton was a nobody. And after the reveal, he'd turned government-plaything-to-crazy-kid. The fact that not only did this random child want a picture with him but his parents were standing a few steps away encouraging it?

Was he dreaming?

Thankfully, his voice returned to Danny quickly enough for him to say, "Uh—yeah. Yeah! Of course!"

The child squealed and closed the gap between himself and Danny, who leaned to the side with his arm out. The kid went right for it, clasping his hands in delight when Danny's hand wrapped around his shoulder.

The kid's parents were quick with their phones, snapping their photos before Danny's brain could finish processing the bizarre nature of whatever the fuck was happening.

When the parents gave their thumbs-up, the kid whipped back around to face Danny, his nerves now fully given way to excitement. "Thank you, Phantom! You're my favorite superhero. Look, I have your shirt!"

For the first time in his life, Danny felt completely out of his depth. Thankfully, Tucker was to the rescue, leaning over with a "Wow! Look, Danny, it matches your suit perfectly!"

The kid clapped. "It does! I got it because then we match!"

"Thank you." Danny hoped he didn't sound too dumbfounded. "Um, what's your name?"

"Theo! Santa got me this for Christmas. I wear it all the time and my friends wanted the shirt from Santa! Bryce has a shirt already, and sometimes we match too!"

"Well, thank you, Theo!" Danny said, having no idea how to respond.

"Come now, let's let Mr. Phantom get back to his friends," his father said.

"Okay!" Theo said, then hesitated, glancing between the wheelchair and Danny before something in his little brain computed and he reached over and tried his best to hug Danny.

And if Danny's brainpower was flickering before, now it officially short-circuited. Because this kid, this kid, was really...hugging him? He took a picture with Danny and now he was trying to hug him?

And his parents weren't screaming and cursing at him for being a danger to their son?

No. Wait, his parents were taking a picture of this? They were smiling?

Danny felt a kick to the side of his wheelchair, and he snapped back to Earth to realize that oh, duh, he was supposed to hug Theo back.

Even though he was afraid that touching the kid might set someone off enough to call the police on him, nothing of the sort happened. He gently wrapped his hands around Theo's back, and then the kid broke free, beaming up at him with a smile so wide, Danny was afraid it might fly off his face.

"Thank you, Mr. Phantom! I hope you feel better soon!" Theo said, skipping back to his parents.

His father high-fived him, praising him for being such a good boy and asking Mr. Phantom first before leading them back to their table across the restaurant. The mother hovered for a moment, hesitating, before walking over to Danny and saying, "Thank you for taking a photo with him. You're Theo's idol. He was so worried about you when everything happened, so seeing you here today meant a lot to him."

"It's no problem," Danny said, and he meant it. He was still reeling that this happened at all.

Not that it was bad. It wasn't. It was actually…kind of nice. Warm in a way he couldn’t explain.

He pushed through his jittering nerves because, for some reason, he really felt like he needed to say one more thing. "Tell—tell your son that—that Phantom is working hard to be back soon."

The woman's eyes almost looked watery as she said, "I will. Thank you."

And then she left to join her family.

The whispers followed, but Danny suddenly didn't care. He felt light. Like he was almost flying. His core hummed happily, sending waves of exhilaration dancing along his limbs.

"Wow, that's so cool, Danny!" Sam said.

"Yeah, I guess it is,” Danny replied, blinking more stars from his eyes. "I didn't think anyone—anyone would…"

"It's like I said, dude!" Tucker grinned. "You're kind of a big deal. Both you, and Phantom."

"Well, yeah, I noticed." Danny's eyes flickered to that group of middle school girls who were very obviously sending Snapchat videos of him to all of their friends. "I just—I didn't think it would be—be like…that. I don't know."

Sam's lips pulled into a frown. "Danny, you realize that most people are on your side, right? That it's just the angry people who are the loudest?"

"On my—on my side and letting their kid take photos with me are two different things, Sam."

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look. A long look. One that soured Danny's mood instantly because shit, his friends thought he was unstable, didn't they? Were they going to tattle on him to his parents? Or Jazz? Tell them that Danny thought of himself as little more than a freakshow exhibit at the circus and that they should get him more therapy?

"It's—forget it," Danny said. He opened his mouth to elaborate, to make an excuse that the kid just caught him off guard and that he was aware that most people were on his side, thanks, and maybe spill that he'd seen their post pinned to his subreddit, when the girl at the counter called their order number.

He waited at the table while Sam and Tucker got their food. He could feel everyone's eyes on him. He was alone, vulnerable. Everyone was looking at him. Whispering. Wondering.

He heard a snicker behind him. Were people laughing at him?

No, it was just a group of friends, they were talking, they probably were laughing at something else entirely. Not everything revolves around you, Danny. Stop being so egotistical.

Thankfully, Sam and Tucker didn't abandon him for too long. They returned, trays of food in hand.

Sam placed his plate in front of him, and he held his breath. He could feel his fingers start to shake, and he hid them within the sleeves of his hoodie. He couldn't crack, not now, not while he was in public.

Don't think about it. It doesn't smell the same. This is totally different.

Eventually, he had to let out a breath, but not until the world had drowned out of his ears and his head was spinning. Was it from the lack of oxygen or the anxiety biting holes in his skin?

"You're not going to eat?"

He jolted up to see Tucker already halfway through his burger. Sam, too, was looking at him with a lost expression.

Panic swirled in him. Had his friends been talking casually to each other the entire time? Had they noticed his silence?

Did they care?

Was he even really their friend anymore? Or was he just the third they let tag along because they felt bad leaving him behind?

"Oh, what?" Danny tried to let out the breath he'd been holding as quietly as he could. His lungs burned. "Sorry. Yeah, just spaced out."

They stared at him a moment longer, and Danny could feel his face heating up. He could smell the processed food in front of him.

It's not the same thing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked gently. “We can take this to go if you need.”

God, he hated how she looked at him like he could break at any moment.

"I'm fine," he snapped. He wasn't going to let her see him weak.

His pulse quickened. He needed another pill.

This was the issue with the hydrocodone. It wasn’t as potent as the oxycodone. It didn't last as long either. The mental relief wore off too soon.

He should have taken the extra one in his pocket.

Tucker and Sam were having a silent conversation. But this one was so loud, Danny could almost hear it.

"Should we bring him home?"

"I don't know."

"What if he has a meltdown?"

"He can't have one right now. We're in public."

He wanted them to shut up, to leave him alone, to stop looking at him like he was something to pity, like some starving dog begging on the street corner. And so, he raised his burger to his mouth and took a bite.

It was fine. He was in the Nasty Burger. He was fine.

The burger was juicy, and regardless of the smell, it really did taste like a burger. Nothing at all like what he’d eaten before. Which seemed to work for whatever set of stringent rules his brain had decided on, and he could feel the panic begin to trickle out of his skin.

"It's good," Danny commented when his gaze flickered up to see the strained looks on his friends’ faces. "Really good."

Sam's face melted in relief. "I'm glad!"

"That's why we brought you out here!” said Tucker. “Figured a taste of the best fast food ever would bring you right back to the good old days!"

Danny wished that was all it took.

"Yeah. I guess the reminder is nice."

Their eyes weighed a thousand pounds on his skull as he bent down and took another bite.

It did taste pretty okay. Nothing at all like the red bag, though it smelled a little like the red bag and ugh no don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

Their chatter started up again, and this time, Danny tried his best to follow along.

Or, maybe not. Because while they were talking about school, a topic Danny should have at least been familiar with, he was already lost.

“Dash and Paulina haven’t broken up yet, idiot,” Sam said.

“‘Yet’ being the key word there,” Tucker said. “That means you think they’re a bad matchup too!”

“Yeah, they have basically nothing in common other than popularity.” Sam swiped a fry off Tucker’s plate with a level of ease that made Danny’s gut squirm, though he didn’t understand why. “That doesn’t mean you’re suddenly going to become her knight in shining armor. You have even less in common with Paulina than Dash does!”

“Wait, Dash and Paulina are dating?” Danny asked.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Barely. Tucker’s convinced he has a chance to ask her to prom. No one thinks they’re going to last.”

“Prom?” Danny’s voice squeaked.

“Yeah, we’re juniors!” Tucker nudged him playfully. “We get to go to prom in the spring! It’s still a few months away before promposals start, but a man’s gotta plan early, right?”

Danny took a slow bite of his burger and chewed, not making eye contact with either of his friends. He’d forgotten that he was an upperclassman, technically. Though, given his current academic situation, he barely felt like a student at all.

But it didn’t really matter, because there was no way a damaged, fucked-up hybrid like him was ever going to get a date to prom.

“Hey,” a voice behind him said.

He turned just in time for a camera to flash.

The paparazzi instinct was burned deep into his reflexes at this point, and he ducked his face behind his hands.

“Can you still turn into Phantom?” the pap asked.

Sam shot her a glare. “Um, do you mind? We’re eating.”

The girl ignored Sam. “Can you speak to the rumors about why you haven’t transformed since your arrest? Is it true that the government took away your ghost form?”

“He’s literally still injured. He can turn into Phantom just fine. Let him heal first,” Sam said.

Danny felt his core pulse and winced, pushing it back down. His ghostly half didn't take kindly to the implication that it was weak and needed to stay hidden. It didn't like to lose.

It wanted to appear, to show the world that he was here again, he was back.

But no. No.

"Does this mean that you're done acting as the town's protector?"

Danny ducked his head to hide the green glow of his eyes under his bangs, and he heard Tucker suck in a breath beside him.

Click!

The camera flashed.

Conversations at other tables hushed around him. Other people were picking up on what was happening.

Calm down.

The door opened, and another set of footsteps began stalking over to his booth.

Click!

"Phantom! Hey, Phantom, look over here!"

Another paparazzo.

"Hey, hey!" a gruff voice behind the register called out. "What the hell are you guys doing on my property?"

"Phantom!" the paparazzo said, closer this time, ignoring the Nasty Burger manager.

"Okay, it's time for us to go," Tucker said quietly, stuffing both his and Danny's food back into its paper bag and tugging Danny's hoodie sleeve. "Come on, we're leaving."

If he got up, then that would be another shining example of him running away from his problems. It would be proof that he was weak, that he couldn’t handle a few simple questions. It would show the public that he couldn’t do normal human things like go to the Nasty Burger with his friends.

But he didn’t have enough of the medication in him. His fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. He couldn’t make a stand without the fog.

"Let's go." Tucker's uncharacteristically serious tone offered no argument, and his eyes were hardened like a soldier going into battle.

In all their years of friendship, Danny had never seen this side of Tucker before. Sam had always been the leader of their group, but in this moment, it wasn't Sam taking charge. It was Tucker not just asking but commanding Danny to follow his orders.

So Danny did. He pushed himself away from the table and followed Tucker to the door, passing by nameless faces and eyes all tracking his every muscle twitch.

He felt like an alien.

He should have just taken the extra hydrocodone that he couldn’t afford, suspicions from Sam and Tucker be damned.

It was sickening how instantly he’d caved to the pressure from the paparazzi. He just wanted to look them in the eye and tell them to fuck off.

But he couldn’t do that. Not without help.

"Phantom! Look over here!"

"Phantom!"

Had they multiplied?

"Get the fuck out of my store before I call the fucking cops, you vultures!"

Those girls were whispering again. As were the other group of teens next to them. And the group of families behind them. And every group around the store. They were all staring at him, whispering, talking about him because they couldn't believe that Phantom was actually here in the flesh after months of only seeing his name in the news.

He felt hands on the back of his wheelchair, and then he had the stunning realization that Tucker was pushing him out of the restaurant. Had he stopped moving? He hadn't even noticed.

Déjà vu rushed over him, and for a moment, he felt like this was last fall all over again. With him spacey and confused, and Sam and Tucker doing their best to maintain a normal friendship out of some deluded sense of obligation, even though they were acting more like Danny was a toddler they were responsible for looking after rather than their friend. And worse, he couldn't even blame them.

Danny had rarely heard Tucker sound so serious. So confident. Gone was his squeaky, puberty-ridden voice, and now here was the blooming baritone of a nearly seventeen-year-old who had matured far more in the last six months than Danny had even realized.

Both of them had matured, he amended as he looked over to Sam's straight back and squared shoulders. Her toned arms swung and her chin stuck out with a set jaw and purple lips pressed in a line.

They had both grown so much. And he hadn't.

A toddler. He was just a toddler to them.

"I got it," he muttered, trying not to sound too bitter as he regained control of his wheelchair.

The paparazzi followed them out of the restaurant, of course, yelling questions that sounded more like the buzzing of a mosquito than actual words.

Sam's car was right in front of the building where they'd left it, which meant that it was in the prime location for the paparazzi to get a nice show of Danny transferring to the car.

"Sorry that your faces are gonna end up on TMZ tomorrow," Danny said, trying to keep the tone light.

Tucker waved him off with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't sweat it, dude."

"Wouldn't be the first time, anyway," Sam added.

Yeah, he supposed it wouldn't.

He tried to look more energetic than he felt as he got into the car, turning his head away as Sam and Tucker stowed the wheelchair in the trunk, even as he heard the flurry of camera clicks capturing every moment of it.

He also didn't miss Sam's overly aggressive door slam, or the tensely lighthearted tone Tucker's voice held as he called out to the paps, "Enjoy the rent money!"

Sam snorted, then opened the driver's door and began sliding into the seat. "Yeah, hope your parents are proud of you right now! Harassing a bunch of teens like this!"

"Just a word!" one of the paparazzi yelled back.

"Why haven't you turned into Phantom?" the second asked.

"Is it true that the Ghost Investigation Ward destroyed your ghost half?"

"Why didn't you answer me before? Are you finished working as Amity Park's protector?"

Danny's core twinged, and not for the first time today, he cursed his ghostly Obsession for making things like this utterly impossible to ignore. "I'm not done!"

Beside him, Sam stiffened, her hand poised on her open door, a second too late to close it.

"I'm not done working as Phantom!" His core hummed. "I—I'll be back! Soon!"

"Danny, stop," Sam hissed.

Danny was done listening to what other people thought he should do with Phantom. He was done hiding.

"How soon?"

His core throbbed, and it took everything in him to not transform right then and there. Though judging by the breath Tucker sucked in, Danny could guess that he hadn't managed to keep his eyes from glowing green.

The first ghostly display he'd shown the public since his release from the hospital, and…he wasn’t concerned in the slightest at the potential backlash.

In fact, his core was preening like a peacock at the mere thought that the paparazzi had caught a video of his eyes glowing.

Recklessly, he pushed his aura out harder.

"How soon, Phantom?"

Danny grinned. "Soon!"

****

previous / next

****

Thanks to @imekitty for betaing!

[read more of my works here]

#danny phantom #everything was white #phicc #my writing #angst #Danny Has A Bad Time: The Fic has returned!

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biteofcherry · 3 days ago

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hi, thank you for the babe lottery! in dire need of a man to sweep me off my feet away from my problems forever, so I'd like to request Andy please, if possible. thanks again <3

✨✨✨

This was pure despair. You walking into that fancy law firm, moving among the elegant dressed professionals who earned more than your family could ever dream of.

As you finally reached the door of Andy Barber's office, the intern who led you there gave you one more condescending look before striding away to tasks he deemed more worthy of his attention.

You knocked on the door and hesitantly walked inside.

Andy Barber didn't look intimidating. He had a handsome face, softened by fluffy dark hair and beard, and a gentle gleam in his eyes.

But it was only his looks. You heard he was a beast in the court, rarely losing a case.

There was no way he would lose a case when it was his son's word against that of your brother. The only option was to prevent it from making to court in the first place.

Your mom tried talking with Mrs Barber, but it was a disaster. Mom simply said she wouldn't budge, but you never saw your mother so shaken. You never met Laurie Barber, but that woman had to be evil incarnate to leave your mom nearly broken in defeat.

"How can I help you?" Andy asked, motioning for you to come closer.

When you introduced yourself, his face fell.

No rage appeared, fortunately. Rather worry and a flicker of... regret?

"Please, Mister Barber." After making it obvious what led you to his office, you pleaded for your little brother's sake.

You wanted to say that Jacob lied, that he was framing your brother in retaliation for school rivalry. There was something off about Jacob, but that comment you kept to yourself.

Your family couldn't afford a decent lawyer to even hope of defending your brother. Your father worked two jobs and you had a part-time one as well, just so you could afford local college.

"I would drop the whole thing, but unfortunately my wife is adamant on blowing it all out of proportion." Andy sounded frustrated, hints of anger at his own wife reverberated.

But he wouldn't fight Laurie about it. Placating her would mean his peace at home, your brother didn't count. He was a faraway thought.

Tears shone in your eyes and he cursed under his breath.

Andy pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled heavily. Then, suddenly, his head snapped up and his eyes bore into yours for a long moment.

"I think there is something we could do about it." He unexpectedly revealed and your hope reignited.

With hands clasped on your chest, you watched him stride over to the door to lock it. He closed the blinds, too.

Fear skittered under your skin as you realized you were locked in his office with a man almost twice your age. A man of power and strength greater than yours.

You were ready to do anything for your little brother, but you didn't want to do that.

You wondered, if you screamed for help, would any of the cold-hearted lawyers outside come to your help. Or would they all vouch for Andy? You definitely didn't have the chance to win in court.

But Andy moved back to his desk and picked up his phone. He didn't put it to his ear, but instead put it on speaker so that you could hear the whole conversation.

"What is it?" A deep male voice on the other side sounded irked.

"Hello to you too, Rogers." Andy rolled his eyes. "Do you remember that you owe me?"

"I don't owe you shit."

"How about me owing you?" Andy offered and you realized he purposely led the conversation that way.

"I'm listening." The man on the other side said after a pause.

"I want you to take a case, pro bono."

"What fucking kind of case?" Rogers asked, suspicious.

"Against me." Andy sighed.

There was a very long pause. And then the man's laughter resounded, sounding both wonderful and scary as hell.

"Send me the details via your private mail. And send to my office that poor lamb you want me to save from your nasty jaws."

#jaanasgrs #eva's new year eve babe lottery #the babe lottery

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morganmnemonic · 4 months ago

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I can't stop thinking about the relationship between Jon and Helen as perhaps one of the most important ones in the entire show. They are narrative parallels for each other, and they both know it. They've both known it from the very start!

Helen walks into the Archives, paranoid, unsure of who to trust, and Jon sees himself in her. And he thinks "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." Then he can't save her. The next time they meet, she's a monster. They're both monsters. There was never any other way their stories could have gone, their fates entwined from the very start.

And Helen answers his original thought with one of her own: "Maybe if we can help each other, there's hope for us both." But Jon looks at her and sees everything that he fears becoming, and so he turns her away, and refuses to accept that their stories are still one and the same.

Helen went to the last person who was ever kind to her, the only person who both knew her as a human and had the context to understand what she'd become, and he hated her. He hated her because he liked Helen, and told her that she couldn't be Helen.

So she stopped trying to be Helen, and embraced being a monster. Reveled in it even. Then Jon wakes up from a six month coma, more monster than person, and tries so hard to cling to the things that mattered to him when he was human. Even with no support, even with the entire archives staff against him, he chooses humanity and compassion over and over again.

And this is a direct threat to Helen's world view. Their stories are entwined. If Jon can continue to be a person even after everything he's been through, then she could have clung to her humanity too, if only she'd tried a little harder. And that terrifies her! She wants to conceptualize herself as someone who was completely overwhelmed by forces beyond her control, who never had a choice but to become a monster. She want's to be an innocent victim. But Jon argues with his actions that they'd both had choices.

And, Jon, in turn, holds out hope that she might make better choices until the very end.

This is the conflict between them for all of season 4 and 5. Jon wants to prove that they can both be decent people, and Helen wants to prove that they were never going to be anything but monsters. This is why she's so devoted to trying to goad Jon into enjoying his newfound godhood. She knows that they are the same, and wants that to mean that he has a spark of evil inside of him, and not that she was always capable of doing good.

When Jon kills her, she loses her life, but wins the argument. Helen is nothing but a dangerous monster who needs to be killed for the good of everyone, and in the moment he decides that, Jon dooms himself to the same fate. Their stories are one and the same. "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." he thought. But he couldn't help her, refused to, even, in the one moment when it actually mattered. And thus, there was never hope for him.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #helen distortion #my rambles #i am not normal about them #helen did nothing wrong in her entire life #(aside from being a real estate agent)#Her story is just so tragic to me #She could have been better #she had choices #thats the entire point #but the choice was between a thankless attempt at retaining her personhood #with absolutely no support and no one who cared about her #or giving into the comforting lie that she never had a choice at all #She had choices and she made them but i don't think anyone could reasonably expect her to have done any better

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anto-pops · 5 months ago

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Midnight Rendezvous - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: An unmistakable tension has always existed between you and Sylus, and despite trying, you’ve never been able to make much sense of it. He’s haughty, arrogant, and too attractive for his own good. After he intervenes and saves you from a questionable situation during a girl’s night out, he whisks you away to his house despite your protests. You want to hate him— you want to be mad at him— but it’s increasingly difficult to fight against your desires, and before long… you stop trying.

Alternatively summarized as you and Sylus having steamy, passionate sex for the first time.

Word Count: 13.9k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, rough sex, size difference

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (with more diverse tags)

The Midnight Bar was, for all intents and purposes, an eclectic melting pot for all of Linkon’s denizens. With its colorful strobe lights and intense, pounding music that poured from the open doorway, it beckoned to any and all passersby, tempting them to set foot past the threshold and lose themselves in the sea of bodies that congregated on the dance floor. More often than not, you dismissed your repetitive, fleeting inclinations to come here for a night of fun. It was easier to justify your homebody tendencies with countless excuses that all pertained to work. But not tonight.

No, tonight you wanted to let loose. You wanted to cast aside your worries and obligations for a few hours, to have a few fruity cocktails that you knew would have you on your ass tomorrow. You wanted to dance until your feet throbbed, until your back ached, until your ears rang and drowned out the never ending cacophony of concerns that plagued your mind.

Life was… complicated. You wanted to forget about it all for once. You wanted to be selfish.

Tara had mercifully agreed to accompany you to the club. Phrasing it as a ‘girl’s night out’ had certainly helped matters, and her light-hearted aura would do wonders for your fluctuating emotions. It was easy to stay level headed when she was around, and you found yourself wondering if the data analyst was even aware of her influence.

From your rooted position on the dance floor, you could see Tara at the bar waiting dutifully for the drinks she’d offered to buy, chatting with the burly bartender all the while. You knew you had no business drinking anymore– you’d had three of those strawberry whatever’s already– but the night called for it, and your clammy palms craved the chilled feeling of the thick, cocktail glass more than was probably healthy. The steady ebb and flow of the music had you moving in sync with the crowd around you flawlessly; your hips swayed, your arms languidly rose above your head, and your eyes fluttered shut as you rolled your head back to toss a few strands of hair out of your face.

Nothing else existed to you in that moment, and you were more than willing to ride the brainless high for a while longer. Wanderers, Grandma and Caleb, The Hunter’s Association, your heart condition… all of it was inconsequential. Every thought that entered your mind dissipated into nothing just as quickly as it appeared, and the last thing you planned to do was squander a second of the reprieve.

That is, until a warm, broad hand appeared on your waist.

Your eyes flew open at the same time you looked over your shoulder, and your field of view was instantly obscured by a familiar chest clad in a black and red button-up shirt. A smokey, almost spicy cologne flooded your senses, and you recognized the scent even before you craned your neck back to meet Sylus’ imposing gaze. He looked the same as always; annoyingly attractive. His pale hair was effortlessly combed off his forehead to showcase those ruby-red eyes that had once imbued you with a healthy dose of fear. Now though, the sight of them only stoked the flames of rebellion within you.

What the hell was he doing in Linkon City? Why was he here of all places?

“All this time and I only ever had you pegged as an indoor cat,” his sultry voice reverberated against you as he bent down to speak directly against your ear, and much to your dismay, you shivered involuntarily. “You never fail to surprise me, kitten.”

On shaky legs, you managed to step out of Sylus’ reach, his fingers trailing across your hip until you were far enough away that his hand fell back to his side. His expression was the usual smug variant you typically saw plastered to his face, and he cocked his head to the side as he took in your disheveled appearance. For whatever reason, your confidence from earlier seemed to vanish completely, and you found yourself feeling incredibly self-conscious having him see you like this. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you looked… messy. The thin sheen of sweat on your face had your hair clinging to your cheeks for dear life, and the thrum of liquor in your veins warmed you so thoroughly that you were confident you were flushed from head to toe.

Out of everyone that could have possibly crossed your path tonight, why did it have to be him? You would have preferred that Zayne walked in to chastise you for your poor life choices rather than the puffed up, Adonis-incarnate before you now. Stupid Sylus with his stupid, attractive smile and his stupid perfect body.

Having stared at him for long enough, you mercifully didn’t slur your words when you bit out, “What are you doing here?”

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that, Miss Hunter.” He easily closed the minuscule distance between the two of you with half a step, gingerly putting the back of his hand against your forehead to gauge your temperature. You swatted the appendage away and scowled, your irritation rising when he smirked in response to the motion. “What will people say when they hear that Linkon’s valiant defender is drunk in the club on a Thursday night? Have you finally tossed away your self-imposed restrictions to join the rest of society in debauchery?”

“I’m not drunk,” you retorted, and the dry look Sylus shot you conveyed just how willing he was to believe you. “I’m not! I’m just having a bit of fun. I don’t work tomorrow, so Tara and I decided to have a girl’s night out. Which means you can’t be here.”

“Can’t I? Or will you run to the nearest police officer and tell them that the leader of Onychinus showed face at the Midnight Bar? I didn’t think you had it in you, sweetie.”

To hear him even suggest such a thing made your stomach sink into the floor, and you stood up straight as you nervously glanced around the room to make sure no one had heard him so boldly announcing his title. “Quiet down! I swear it’s like you want to be caught. I wouldn’t do that, I just– why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

At home clearly meant the N109 Zone, but Sylus picked up on your shrouded speech well enough. He fluidly shifted to allow a cluster of younger girls to dart past him through the crowd, but his eyes never wavered from yours. “Why else would I deign to grace Linkon City with my presence? I’m here on business. It’s since concluded, but I wanted to grab a drink. I wasn’t expecting to find you in the middle of the dance floor all by yourself.”

Your tipsy brain was slow to process all of his information, the most prudent of which had to do with who he was discussing business with in this part of the city. You didn’t even bother to ask, though. Sylus could avoid your questions like he was born to do it, and you were painfully aware of how much he loved to goad you. Better to let the matter rest… for now.

You crossed your arms over your chest– suddenly acutely aware of the plunging neckline of your dress– and did your best to sound firm. “Well, don’t stop on my account. Go get your drink so I can go back to what I was doing.”

Those eyes of his were predatory in every sense of the word. You may as well have been naked with how vulnerable you felt on the receiving end of his unrelenting stare. “And leave you all alone here? Perish the thought.”

Right on cue, you spotted Tara’s familiar head of hair bobbing and weaving through the crowd, both of her arms raised to protect the integrity of the two cocktails she held from the ever shifting sea of bodies. You instantly relaxed at the sight of her, and if Sylus’s raised brow was anything to go by, he noticed your change in demeanor almost immediately. He glanced over his shoulder in time to spot Tara emerging from the throng of bodies, one of the drinks in her hands already outstretched towards you.

“The wait was crazy, but the bartender was really nice!” She had to shout over the roar of the music, an easygoing smile already playing on her lips. You took the offered beverage from her while she continued, “He gave me his employee discount for both of the drinks. I think he liked–”

You knew the exact moment Tara noticed the six foot two giant towering over you, her brown eyes becoming comically wide as she shifted her weight to look up at Sylus. Recognition flashed across her face, and for a brief moment you felt a genuine surge of panic. But then her expression smoothed out, and she gently patted Sylus’ shoulder in a friendly greeting.

“You’re Skye, right? It’s been forever! What are you doing here?”

Skye? You were confused for all of two seconds until you remembered the one and only time Tara had ever met Sylus; at the hotel all those weeks ago during your team building exercise. You thought he had been pretending to be a fruit vendor, up until he let you know that he would order more of the watermelon served there that you loved so much, cluing you in on the fact that he had some kind of dealings with the establishment. The enigma of a man seemed to have his fingers in damn near every pie in Linkon and the N109 Zone.

Was nowhere safe from his influence? Honestly…

The conversation between your two acquaintances had continued in the midst of your reminiscing, and Sylus pinned you with a knowing look, which brought yet another scowl to your face. “I’m just passing through. I happened to see Miss Hunter over here looking incredibly lonely, so I decided I’d come and say hello.”

Liar. “I already told you I was here for a girl’s night out. As you can see, the girls are back together and in the middle of something.”

Tara’s glassy eyes lit up as the worst idea imaginable came to mind. “I don’t mind if you want to hang out with us, Skye. You can be one of the girls for the night if you’d like.”

The giggle that slipped out of Tara spoke volumes of her inebriated state, and you opted to blame all the alcohol for giving her enough courage to invite a borderline stranger into your circle. If she knew the truth about the man standing mere inches away from her, you knew her tone would change in an instant. Thankfully though, Sylus interjected before you got the chance to, seemingly on the same page as you for once.

“Thank you for the invite, but I can’t linger tonight. You two have your fun, I’ll be at the bar for a bit before I need to head out. The fruit business never sleeps, I’m afraid.”

The ease with which he lied out of his ass was something that needed to be studied by professionals, you were certain. Still, you were grateful that he was taking pity on you and excusing himself, though you had to admit you were… surprised by it. The Sylus you knew wouldn’t turn his nose up at a chance to taunt you and keep you on your toes. Even though he had revealed sides of himself to you that you hadn’t expected, at the end of the day, Sylus was an instigator at his core.

Red eyes glittering with mirth met yours for the briefest of moments before the Onychinus leader turned on his heel to head for the bar, and the crowd of people that surrounded the three of you seemed to part for him effortlessly. Countless heads turned to watch Sylus as he went, women and men alike staring after him with varying degrees of attraction and envy written across their faces. You could hardly blame them.

Men more than likely wanted to be him, and women no doubt wanted to be with him. He seemed to have that effect on everyone he crossed paths with.

“Is there something going on between you two?”

Your head swiveled back towards Tara so fast, the movement practically gave you whiplash. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She playfully shoved your shoulder, which only succeeded in pushing herself away from you as she stumbled back a step. No more drinks for her, you thought to yourself. “Oh come on,” she drawled. “The tension between you and him is thick enough to cut with a knife. Plus the way he stares at you? I would melt if I was on the receiving end of those eyes.”

Thoroughly fed up with the conversation already, you simply shook your head and brought your drink to your lips, your eyes unconsciously seeking Sylus out. He was exactly where he said he would be; at the bar with a glass already pinched between his long, lithe fingers. How he had gotten a drink so fast, you didn’t know, and you furrowed your brows in confusion at the same time his gaze zeroed in on you from across the room. He raised his beverage to you and tipped his head forward in a leisurely manner, but you only gave him a nonplussed blink in response before looking away.

“Exhibit A,” Tara tactfully pointed out when you returned to paying attention to her. “What would be the harm? He’s handsome, he’s got to be smart with all the business deals he’s involved in, he’s polite. He could be good for you if you gave him a chance.”

“Tara, you have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s–” you cut yourself off, trying and failing to come up with a justification that didn’t out him as the head of a massive crime organization. In the end you settled for, “He’s a complicated guy. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

“Fine, fine,” she waved off your pleading and took a hearty sip of her drink, motioning for you to do the same. “I’ll let it slide this once, but don’t think for one second that I’m dropping the subject forever. Anyways, do you think the DJ is taking requests?”

Thankfully it didn’t take you long to fall back into your previously upbeat mood. The steady supply of alcohol and the rancorous thrum of your heartbeat in your ears certainly helped matters, and when the song Tara had requested finally came on over the pounding speakers, you shed the remainder of your inhibitions and downed the rest of your drink to free up your hands and dance wildly. It took a herculean effort not to glance back to the bar to see if Sylus was still perched on the stool in the corner, but your willpower won out in the end as you swayed your hips to the tempo of the dark, seductive music.

Lost in the sea of bodies around you, your senses were overwhelmed with all the different sights, sounds, and smells that surrounded you. The tang of everyone’s sweat mixed together wasn’t altogether unpleasant, and the sickly sweet taste of the lingering cocktail on your lips had you wetting them as red strobe lights darted overhead. Heat from everyone packed in tight next to one another had sweat dripping down your brow, your chest, your back— so you dexterously gathered your hair in one hand to lift off of your neck to offer some reprieve.

Tara was a blur in the corner of your eye, but you still knew she was somewhere in front of you. That was how you knew the hand on the nape of your neck wasn’t hers, and the absence of Sylus’ trademark scent told you that it wasn’t him, either.

Ambushed by an errant hand for the second time in one night, you were quick to spin around and shove the stranger away. It was a man– an unfamiliar one at that– who looked all too put out to have been so harshly rejected within the first five seconds of trying. His hair was so black that underneath the club’s technicolored lights, it looked blue. Pale green eyes were narrowed in confusion at you, though you noticed how he immediately attempted to school his expression once you’d turned around.

“Hey,” he called over the thrumming base of the music. “Want to dance?”

Suddenly bashful at having been so harsh, you did your best to ease up your defensive stance and allowed for a polite smile to play on your lips while you shook your head. “Thank you, but no thanks. I’m here with my friend.”

Apparently being nice wasn’t going to work, because the stranger stepped close enough to sling his arms across your and Tara’s shoulders, and with the brief look the two of you shared, you could tell neither one of you was particularly thrilled about it. “The more the merrier! Why don’t you two come over to my booth in the corner? I’m sure my friends would love to meet you.”

Calmly but firmly, you grabbed for the man’s hand to unsling it from around your neck, taking a small step away from him as you reached for Tara. “No thank you, we’re good–”

His hand shot out quickly, and you blamed the alcohol in your system for nullifying your reaction time, because the bastard succeeded in grabbing your forearm to pull you closer once again. His nails dug into your flesh hard enough that you winced, and when you tried pulling back, you felt the telltale sting of skin breaking. “Oh come on,” he crooned, giving you an undiluted nose-full of the stale beer on his breath. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. A couple of beautiful women such as yourselves deserve a night of fun, wouldn’t you say?”

Tara interjected this time, looking more uncomfortable than you’d ever seen her before. “We’re really fine, please let go–”

A shadow crossed your vision for a moment; large, imposing, and radiating an aura that you could only describe as murderous. Smokey cologne filled your nostrils as Sylus wrenched the man’s hand away from your arm, then picked him up by the scruff of his shirt to glare menacingly into his eyes. Over the blaring music, you had no idea what the green-eyed stranger was saying, but you could make out the sound of him stammering as he clawed at the arm that held him inches off the ground.

For a minute, you really thought Sylus was going to end the man’s life. Even in the midst of hoisting an adult male off the floor by the fabric of his shirt, he didn’t move a muscle. It didn’t even look like he was struggling. He was eerily still, and when you moved to catch a glimpse of his side profile, there was no missing the white hot stare he had glued to his prey.

Tentatively, you placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly to get his attention. “Sylus, we’re fine– just put him down, please.”

Aside from a muscle in his jaw ticking minutely, he gave no indication that he had heard you. You tried again, “Sylus please. People are staring, you’re causing a scene.”

Truthfully you couldn’t care less about the people in the club watching everything unfold, but you were worried about police being called in and discovering who exactly Sylus was. The thought of him being taken away unnerved you, and even though you knew he could more than likely escape beforehand, you feared for the people that would inevitably be caught in the crossfire.

Beneath your palm, you felt Sylus’ bicep flex before he roughly dropped the man from his ironclad grip. The stranger, wide-eyed with terror, stumbled when his feet hit the floor, but he didn’t waste any time disappearing into the crowd and vanishing from sight. You sighed with relief, grateful that things hadn’t ended badly, then looked back to the silver haired man. His red eyes were fixed on your arm where the stranger had scratched you; four stark, crescent shaped wounds were etched into your skin. Sylus gently took your hand in his to bring your forearm closer for him to inspect, lightly running his fingers over the wounds, and despite the severity of the situation, you felt your face flushing from the intimacy of the gesture.

“Come on,” Sylus practically growled, his grip on your hand tightening. “We’re leaving.”

“I– wait, what?” You tried wrenching your arm free from the imposing man’s vice grip, but it was like pulling at Protocore infused shackles. “Sylus, let me go! What about Tara? I can’t leave her here alone.”

“Luke and Kieran are already on their way. They’ll take her home.” He didn’t look at you as he half-pulled, half-dragged you through the crowd towards the front doors of the club. It took everything in you not to stumble in your heels and sprawl out on the sticky, tile floor, but something told you that even if you did, Sylus would just haul you up and toss you over his shoulder before you made contact with the ground. When the two of you made it outside, the cool air was like a sobering slap to the face, and you blinked rapidly as Sylus released your hand long enough to open the passenger side door of a sleek, black car parked in the front. He gestured stiffly to the seat, “Get in.”

The flame of rebellion reserved especially for Sylus and his insufferable brand of arrogance roared to life in a split second. Any gratitude you might have felt towards him dissipated into the air like smoke. Your eyes sharpened into something lethal, and your hands curled into fists at your sides as you stood your ground on the sidewalk– silently daring him to physically move you into the car, because you would sooner go head to head with a den of Wanderers before you let yourself be ordered around by him.

“No.”

“What if I asked nicely?”

“No,” you doubled down firmly, your nails biting into the skin of your palms as you beat back the urge to smack him.

“Kitten,” Sylus’ voice was a low rumble, but the nickname came out as anything but calm. It held a dangerous edge to it, like something akin to thunder sounding before lightning struck. “Now really isn’t the time to show me your claws. Please, get in the car.”

“Screw you, Sylus. I already said no. I’ll walk–”

The familiar, cold tendrils of his Evol snaked around your torso, lashing out too fast for you to track or dodge. There was an almost imperceivable tug against your midsection, and the next thing you knew, you were being haphazardly thrown into the car. Any whiplash the motion would have caused was prevented by the red mist that cradled your head. By the time you realized what had happened, Sylus was shutting the door on you and striding around to the driver’s side, ignoring the wary stares from the people outside waiting to be let into the club.

“Are you out of your mind?” You snapped as soon as he climbed in, and your blood boiled when he wouldn’t even do you the service of looking at you while you raged. “You’re completely out of line! You don’t get to just decide to kidnap me when I’m out with my friends. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?”

“You’ll get over it,” he muttered, throwing the gear in drive before peeling away from the curb. He spun the car around so quickly that you found yourself leaning uncomfortably against the door, and as he evened out the steering wheel and took off down the street, the erratic motions had you bouncing between the window and the center console. “You might want to buckle up, sweetie.”

He shot you a sidelong look when you jerked on the seatbelt hard enough for it to lock in place, then snickered when you were forced to be gentler to draw the strap across your lap. “Keep laughing like that and you’ll have to sleep with one eye open tonight,” you muttered, clicking the buckle into place.

Sylus chuckled softly under his breath, his knuckles blanching white against the steering wheel for a brief moment before he said, “I’m counting on it, kitten.”

—

Insufferable. Demanding. Egotistical. Infuriatingly charming. Too suave for his own good. All of those terms could be used to describe Sylus, but even then it wasn’t enough. No dictionary in the world had enough words to characterize the man’s personality, and you were positive that if you tried finding one, you would be on the hunt for the rest of your life.

After arriving at his house in the N109 Zone, you’d bitten his head off for not taking you home. When he had countered with the claim that he’d never specified where he was taking you to begin with, you had thrown your hands in the air and stomped away into the living room, at your wits end for the nth time tonight. He had given you a modicum of space to let you cool off shortly thereafter, until he had reappeared to let you know that Luke and Kieran had dropped Tara off at her house safe and sound.

That had… helped your mood a little. While Sylus was an exasperating person as a whole, you knew that you could trust him to have your friend delivered home unharmed. Luke and Kieran were reliable too– at least, they were when they weren’t conspiring to get you and their boss into compromising situations.

You had never really forgiven them for setting you up that night you were searching for Sylus’ brooch. If Sylus was the ringmaster of Onychinus, Luke and Kieran were the acrobats bending over backwards to please him.

“There’s a change of clothes by the bathroom,” Sylus’ gravelly voice sounded from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t bother looking away from the massive bay windows to acknowledge him. “You can go shower if you want. If you’re still adamant about going home afterwards, then I’ll take you.”

You barked out a humorless laugh, and you saw Sylus narrow his eyes at you in the reflection of the window. “Why so hospitable all of a sudden? You didn’t care about what I wanted when you were hauling me out of the club like a petulant child.”

“I’m sorry, are we forgetting the part where I got rid of the human scum that was yanking you around like a dog on a leash?”

You dumbly shook your head, baffled and bewildered that he had justifications ready to dish out after behaving so boorishly. “While I appreciate that you intervened, I had it under control.”

One second he was across the room glaring at the back of your head. The next, he was inches away from you, peering down at you like an ominous shadow with predatory intent plastered all over his face. Sylus swiftly captured your hand in his to reveal the tiny row of scratches on your forearm, his gentle ministrations so at odds with his stormy demeanor. He cocked a brow at you and condescendingly said, “You and I have very different definitions of what ‘under control’ means, kitten.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, easily withdrawing your arm back to your side. “It’s not like he could have done anything serious. We had people all around us, and security would have come over eventually–”

“For future reference, don’t rely on drunk patrons to protect you. I expected better from a Linkon Hunter. You have no idea what that man wanted with you and your friend.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Yes.”

That one word from Sylus made you pause, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and your face crinkled in confusion as you processed the meaning behind his declaration. “You… Did you use your Evol?”

Not the least bit ashamed at having been caught, Sylus turned away from you to look out the floor to ceiling window. “He may as well have been screaming his desires with how loud his thoughts were. What he wanted was vile,” he stated roughly, “and he would have gotten it whether you were a willing participant or not.”

The silence that filled the living room was deafening, and you nervously looked down to the floor as you shifted your weight between your feet. To hear the real reason why Sylus had felt the need to intervene… it explained the cold-blooded expression you’d seen on his face. Moreover, you were glad that he hadn’t left like he had said he would.

Should you apologize? It felt wrong to just ignore the fact that Sylus could very well have saved your life tonight, and Tara’s by extension. He was as stubborn and headstrong as they came, but he wasn’t a monster. He had protected you countless times before now, and despite your brain’s unwillingness to fully agree, you had a sneaking suspicion that the crime lord had a soft spot for you. You’d come to terms with that fact a long time ago. At the very least, you felt like you owed him a sincere apology for being such a brat in the face of his kindness.

If it could even be called that.

Your mouth opened so those two little words could slip free and ease the weight that had settled on your shoulders, but Sylus’ finger stopped you. The slender digit pressed against your lips and prevented you from saying anything, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you blinked slowly in confusion.

“Go clean up. We can talk more after, if you’d like.”

The softness of his voice coupled with the tenderness of his gaze compelled you to listen. No retorts, no witty one-liners, no arguments formed on your tongue. For the first time since knowing him, you weren’t in the mood to butt heads or deny him.

So you listened.

—

He was waiting for you when you finished in the bathroom.

Maybe it was more appropriate to say that he’d simply retired to his room after waiting for nearly an hour. After all, you were technically using his shower. The gray cotton pajamas that had been left for you on the bathroom counter were soft, thin, and fit like a glove. You had taken a good minute to relish in the comfortable feeling of them before slipping out of the steam filled chamber.

Sylus was thumbing over the collection of records on the shelf when you emerged, his broad back to you as he thoughtfully debated on which one to play. He made no move to acknowledge your presence, but you already knew he had heard you walk out of the bathroom. He was too perceptive to overlook anyone sneaking up on him.

Padding over to the bed, you sat down on the edge of the mattress and mulled over the countless different things you could say to him. ‘I’m sorry’ was seemingly the most prudent. There was also the ‘thank you’ route, which wasn’t a bad option considering he had made sure Tara made it home safely in addition to coming to your aide. Part of you even wanted to ask why he cared to go so far out of his way for you when you were merely… well, you. Sure, your paths had intertwined some time ago, and he had helped you out in choppy situations a few times before. But at the end of the day, the two of you couldn’t be more different, and it wasn’t like you’d made it easy for him to get to know you.

Why did he care to help you?

You could already hear his possible responses playing in your mind. He would probably say something like “I protect my investments,” or “You have a habit of looking so pitiful, I can’t help myself”. Something that would affirm that you were important to him while still keeping you at arm’s length. This cat and mouse game you had going with him was maddening, and you were starting to lose your grip on what was real and what was a facade.

“If you think any harder, you’re going to hurt yourself, kitten.”

Sylus’ voice drew you back into the present moment, and you glanced towards him in time to watch him slide a vinyl case off the shelf before carefully thumbing the packaging open. His captivating red eyes landed on you as he deposited the disk onto the record player, effortlessly dropping the needle down without so much as blinking. An almost bewitching melody filled the room, and then Sylus was setting down the case to walk towards you, his stride slow and purposeful. Stopping a few inches away from you, he delicately picked up a strand of your damp hair to coil around his finger as he raked his eyes over your body.

The pajamas he’d chosen were definitely meant for hot nights, that was for sure. The soft, gossamer shorts left nearly all of your legs on display. Nevermind the racy neckline of the matching, lace-lined tank top. All in all, you were wearing more skin than you were clothes.

“I was thinking,” you started to say, tilting your chin up to meet his unyielding stare. “I owe you an apology.”

One perfectly groomed brow quirked up in response. “Oh?”

“I know I can be stubborn sometimes–”

“The understatement of the century,” he mused thoughtfully.

“Shush, I need to say this.” You sighed before pressing on undaunted, your tone hardening, “That being said, I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t acknowledge that I was out of my element tonight. I honestly don’t know if things would have gone the way you said they would, but even so I can see now that I wasn’t in a state of mind to properly protect myself or Tara. Your methods were… unorthodox, but you being there was appreciated, and I’m sorry that I snapped at you.”

Sylus was quiet for a few seconds, taking in your words with an almost serene expression on his face. His thumb traced over the strand of your hair around his finger, then let it slip away to caress the side of your cheek with his knuckles. Your breathing hitched– startled by the gesture– but you made no move to pull away or stop him. It was rare for you to be able to perceive him so… openly.

His voice was low, barely a whisper as he murmured, “You never have to thank me for the things I do. Especially not for tonight.”

The way he grazed your cheekbone with his fingertips before tracing the outline of your jaw had your mouth firmly sealed. If you tried to speak, you already knew your voice would come out pitifully small. It had nothing to do with feeling small, however. The utter longing in Sylus’ gaze coupled with the almost reverent way he touched your face made you feel… important. He was looking at you like you were the only thing he cared about within the four walls, which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the valuables and collectables he kept hidden away in his bedroom.

But you didn’t stop to think. Not really. Your brain was mercifully silent as you studied his eyes, his posture, his lips. Something had shifted between the two of you, and you didn’t know if you were eager or scared to discover what that meant. Sylus’ thumb slid over your lips, his touch featherlight as well as chill-inducing. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable as the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half smirk.

“Let tonight be a lesson to you, kitten; never let your guard down around anyone,” his gaze flickered from your face to your chest, then lazily swept down the rest of your seated form. “Especially not when you’re out for a night on the town looking like the human embodiment of temptation.”

“Temptation?” You echoed dumbly, and Sylus shook his head to himself as he laughed softly.

“Don’t tell me you were completely oblivious to how you looked in the middle of the club earlier. I’ll admit, the amount of eyes you had on you made me… twitchy. I should burn that dress to cinders, but then I’d never get to see you in it again.”

You blinked in surprise, a tingling warmth spreading from your chest all the way down your torso before settling between your legs. “I– you liked it?”

It should have made you laugh the way Sylus had to bend down so much to put his eyes at the same level as yours, but humor had flown right out the fucking window the second he started caressing your face. His blatant desire burned you, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Red eyes bored into yours, and his face was close enough that you could see the darker shade of red that rimmed his irises. Being so up close and personal with his lips also made thinking difficult, but the one thought you managed to cling onto was how soft they looked, and how much you wanted to feel them against yours.

This man was quickly becoming your undoing, and you truly didn’t think you had it in you to fight against your baser urges.

“I liked the dress,” Sylus said huskily, his fingers leaving your face to ghost down the side of your neck. “I liked your heels, and I definitely liked your dancing.” His fingers moved to curl around the back of your neck, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him so that his breath fanned across your cheeks as his eyes eagerly fell to your lips. “Would you be offended if I said I like you?”

The shallow breath you drew into your lungs was like music to Sylus’ ears, and you felt his hand stiffen against the nape of your neck as he awaited your response. Formulating words was a bit of a challenge, however, seeing as all you could focus on was the unrepentant fantasies that were currently bombarding your brain. You wanted him bad, and the wet heat ravaging your lower body was a testament to that fact.

“I’m going to need an answer, sweetie,” Sylus purred, all too pleased with the way you seemed to unconsciously move your face closer to his. “Or am I meant to read your mind to find out for myself?”

“I’m not offended,” your response was airy– barely a whisper– but Sylus heard you loud and clear, and he grinned wickedly as his grip on your neck tightened. “I think I like you too.”

“It’s about time.”

Those three little words came out roughly, but you hardly got the chance to dwell on the gravelly timbre to Sylus’ voice. His lips were on yours in the next second, stealing your breath and igniting a fire in your veins that threatened to burn you from the inside out. Every one of your senses was overcome with Sylus; his smokey scent, the throaty moan he let slip, the feeling of his fingers burying themselves in your still damp hair. You heard him kick off his shoes without breaking away, and then you felt the mattress dip under his weight as he supported himself over you with one of his knees. Looming above you, you were entirely at his mercy as he used the newfound angle to his advantage, sweeping his tongue along the roof of your mouth as he devoured the minuscule sounds that emanated from you. You cautiously wrapped your significantly smaller hand around his thick wrist, drawing him close enough into your space that you had to lean back on the bed to accommodate his larger frame.

“The things you do to me,” Sylus rumbled, leaning his head to the side to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, flicking his tongue against your pulse with a low hum. “So unbelievably perfect. You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

Emboldened by his praise, you let your hands rest on his narrow waist so your nails could dig into the silky fabric of his dress shirt. “Show me, then,” you replied, turning your head so you could stare up at him as your teeth began to bite at your swollen bottom lip.

In a flash, Sylus had moved off of you to wedge his arms under your armpits, effortlessly hoisting you off the edge of the bed so he could better toss you towards the mountain of pillows near the headboard. A surprised yelp sounded from you as your ass made contact with the smooth, satin sheets, and you watched blearily as Sylus deftly began undoing the top buttons of his shirt with one hand as his eyes raked over you. “You don’t have any idea what kind of effect you have on me, do you? You drive me crazy and you’re none the wiser to it. Ignorance really is bliss, huh?”

“I–” you didn’t know what to say or where to look, especially once the muscled expanse of his chest started to show itself. “I’m sorry?”

Chuckling darkly, Sylus finished off the remaining clasps on his shirt and shrugged the attire off, tossing it somewhere near the record player before making his way to the side of the bed. “Actions speak louder than words, kitten. Why don’t you show me just how sorry you are?” His hands gestured towards his belt in an unspoken question, and while it took you a second to figure out what it was that he wanted, you were quick to shuffle towards him to get started once your brain caught up. “So eager to please… I’m impressed.”

You ignored his teasing to the best of your ability. Cold feet wouldn’t serve you well now– not when every fiber of your being was heated with blatant arousal. The urge to please him, to pleasure him, to drive him to further madness, was overwhelming. Nimble as a cat, you undid his belt and let the metal buckle fall away with a resounding clink. The catch of his pants went next, and you made sure to glance up at him through your lashes as you slowly dragged the zipper down, reveling in the lust-filled gaze he fixed you with.

Sylus let you do the majority of the work, only deigning to lend you a hand when you struggled to pull his pants down over the swell of his rear. A throaty laugh sounded from above you when your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at the sight of his briefs. The unmistakable outline of his girth was apparent through the dark fabric, and fuck– was he big.

How the hell was that supposed to fit anywhere inside you?

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Sylus taunted, his index finger and thumb coming to grip your chin and tilt your head up at him. “Just take it slow. I’ll talk you through it.”

All his promise did was give you butterflies. You swallowed thickly, nodding as he released you so you could turn back to the task at hand. Almost hesitantly you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his dark undergarments, taking care to let your hands graze the delectable ‘V’ of his lower stomach before you pulled them down and revealed inch after inch of his insane member. You couldn’t help it that your mouth fell open at the sight.

Sylus’ cock wasn’t just big, it was thick. The sheer weight of it fought against its erect nature and had it drooping menacingly before your parted lips. The shiny, red tip was already oozing pre-cum, causing it to glimmer as it reflected the dim overhead lighting. A sparse collection of darker, neatly trimmed hair surrounded his shaft, and you unconsciously found your nails scraping gently through it before you took him in your hands. Even with both of the appendages working together to grip him, there was still ample space left untouched and exposed, and you licked your lips before glancing up at the silver haired man with expectant eyes.

Sylus still looked surprisingly put together despite the circumstances, but the way his chest rose and fell quicker than normal spoke volumes of his excitement. His red eyes glittered with anticipation, and one of his large hands carded through your hair before gripping the strands firmly enough to maneuver your cheek directly against his throbbing manhood. He sighed as soon as your skin made contact with it, gently moving you around by your tresses until his tip bumped against your lips.

“Open,” came his sultry command.

With nowhere else to go you heeded his instruction and stuck your tongue out, ready and willing for whatever he had planned for you. He let you guide his cock into the warm, inviting prison that was your mouth, and without any further pointers from him, you took him as far as you could before you felt the head bumping the back of your throat. The urge to gag came and went quickly as you hollowed your cheeks around your mouthful, and the ragged sound Sylus let slip conveyed his approval well enough.

It was a tad difficult to crane your neck back to sneak a glance at him, but from what you could see, he was breathing heavily and looking down at you with wonder. “You’re quite the little minx, aren’t you?”

You hummed your confirmation, the vibrations from the action making the hand in your hair squeeze tighter around the strands, and the soft curse that emanated from him was like music to your ears.

“Fuck– slowly now, keep your tongue out and mind your teeth. Tap my leg if you need to stop, alright kitten?”

Stopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you dipped your head just enough to let him know you were in agreement. Sylus cupped the underside of your jaw with his free hand while the other stayed firmly rooted in your hair– fully in control of your head from that moment forward– and you allowed for your hands to slip away from the base of his cock so you could brace your palms on his toned thighs. His first few thrusts were meant to test your resolve, seeing as they were shallow and relatively wary. Your jaw stayed slack throughout all of it though, and you even took it upon yourself to tense and untense your tongue as he plunged in and out.

“Damn,” Sylus groaned as his eyes fell shut, the euphoric sensations prompting him to increase his pace ever so slightly. Your nails scraped against the skin of his thighs as you curled your hands into loose fists, the sordid, wet sounds of your mouth making your face flush with barely there embarrassment. “That’s it, darling. You’re doing great.”

With his fingers wrapped under your jaw, the placement of his digits allowed you to become acutely aware of the bulge in your throat. Sylus’ cock edged deeper and deeper into your mouth with every pump of his hips, and when a strangled, choking sound finally broke free from your stuffed mouth, Sylus laughed darkly before opening his eyes to turn his attention back to you.

“I wish you could see yourself right now.” Sylus emphasized the statement with a harsher buck of his hips, the head of his cock sliding past the back of your throat and reaching far enough that you felt it near the top of your esophagus. Your eyes pinched shut as tears welled up within them, then flew open as the man above you withdrew his shaft nearly all the way to give you the chance to breathe. Greedy gulps of air were sucked down immediately, followed by a harsh cough that forced the pooling tears in your eyes to cascade down your cheeks. “You make one hell of a pretty picture, sweetie. I’ll have to keep a camera on hand next time.”

“C-Can I try?” You rasped out the question as you worked to catch your breath, and the amusement that lit up Sylus’ features was enough to harden your determination.

He released the underside of your jaw and affectionately brushed a few strands of hair out of your face before dropping his hands entirely. “By all means. Show me what tricks you’ve got up your sleeve, Miss Hunter.”

You weren’t inexperienced by any means, but the impressive size of Sylus had you reevaluating everything you’d ever learned. A blow job was a blow job, however, and you were certain that your enthusiasm would help cover any blind spots that would no doubt appear.

Sylus watched with anticipation as you took him back in your hands and smiled up at him, resting the heavy head of his cock between your lips before you pursed them to press a warm, messy kiss to the sensitive tip. The tiny, evil glint in your tear-stained eyes clued him in on just how badly you yearned to make him crumble, and for probably the first time in his life, Sylus couldn’t wait to see someone try to knock him down a peg or two.

With your eyes still glued to him, you slipped your tongue out and ran it slowly over the slit before curling the muscle around the swollen head with a soft sigh, gently stroking him once, then twice. You twisted your wrist slightly as you opened your mouth again to suck wetly at the pre-cum beading before your eyes, laving your tongue over the head hard enough for Sylus’ eyes to narrow for the briefest of moments. His hands clenched at his side, the insatiable urge to fuck into your mouth again taking over him, but he refrained from interrupting your show through sheer force of will alone.

You smiled coyly up at him, entirely aware of the larger man’s internal struggle, and slowly slid his cock back into your mouth so your lips sealed right over the head as you sucked. It was wet and messy and noisy, and Sylus couldn’t help the way he twitched forward for more as a string of broken curses fell from his lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tilted your head to the side to mouth down Sylus’ length, sucking gently and soothing your tongue over the warm flesh as you went, and if the feeling and the sight of you wasn’t enough to leave Sylus a panting, eager mess, the slick sounds of your mouth would fucking do it for him. He kept his hands off but groaned loudly, trying his best to indicate that you should absolutely keep doing exactly that.

His head fell back between his tense shoulders as he let out a low, rumbling moan, shivering when you curled your tongue around the underside of his cock and breathed a soft chuckle against him. You worked to stroke the parts of him that your lips weren’t worshiping, and the smooth, even touches were made even smoother by the copious amounts of saliva and pre-cum that already soaked his shaft. Sylus’ leg twitched minutely, his knee banging against the side of the bed frame, but all he could feel was your soft lips at the base of his cock followed by an agile twist around the slick head, smearing all the combined moisture around blindingly. He didn’t think it could get any better than that, but once you dipped your head low enough to take the skin of his balls into your mouth and suck delicately, Sylus was fighting to keep his head out of the clouds, because the sensation was absolutely otherworldly.

“Fuck,” came Sylus’ garbled, gritted voice, his stomach tensing as his hands finally returned to your mussed hair. “Alright, you’ve proven your point, kitten.”

Hardly, you thought. You ignored the high strung edge to his voice and continued your ministrations, wrapping your lips around the head and taking him as deep as you could before you swallowed, and when Sylus choked on a rough gasp in response, you withdrew slowly, using the tip of your tongue to press along the underside of his cock. Sylus desperately wanted to stop you, because the last thing he had anticipated was cutting all the fun short by finishing in your mouth of all places– but then your tongue swirled around the tip again while you stroked every wet, exposed inch– and his fingers tightened around your strands of hair as he fought the urge to shove his cock back into the welcoming embrace of your mouth.

He didn’t think it was possible for such a tiny thing to have such a dexterous tongue. There was simply no way anything born of this Earth could possibly be this versatile.

“Enough,” Sylus growled abruptly, willing his brain to supersede his baser urges as he promptly pulled you off of him by your hair. The sting from the motion made you gasp, but the pleasure that came with being so easily manhandled quickly overshadowed the pain, and your hooded eyes drank in the sight of Sylus as you breathed in deeply.

Red eyes hazy and unfocused, chest rising and falling rapidly, and a pretty flush you’d never seen before sneaking up his neck and spreading across his cheeks and ears. Oh yeah, you thought, he was definitely getting close.

“Don’t look so smug,” Sylus rumbled, the slight strain in his voice barely noticeable. But you were a Linkon City Hunter, and being perceptive was technically a job requirement, so you absolutely took note of it. You couldn’t help but grin– awfully proud of yourself for riling him up this way– and let go of his cock to brace yourself on your arms as you leaned back.

“Sorry, I just really liked the face you were making.”

His eyes narrowed in an unspoken challenge, and before you could so much as blink, his larger body was covering the bulk of yours as he hoisted you back up the mattress so you were leaning against the throne of pillows once again. Red tendrils of his Evol aided him in the removal of your shirt, the lacy attire vanishing from view as he crawled backwards just enough so he could slip his fingers under the waistband of your pajama shorts before he said, “I hope it was worth it, because now it’s my turn to see what kinds of faces you’ll make, sweetie.”

The effect his words had on you could have honestly been deemed concerning, and the pure bolt of arousal that shot through you when he started to drag your pants off without breaking eye contact was like nothing you had ever felt before. As soon as he had tossed your bottoms to the floor to join his own pile of clothing, he wasted little time in settling between your outstretched legs, wrapping one of his thick forearms over your waist to hold you in place as a devious expression spread across his face.

“Try to hold still for me,” he breathed out softly. You opened your mouth to reply, but your words got cut off the second one of his fingers slid along your slit and pressed against your clit, wringing a strangled gasp from you as you inadvertently bucked your hips up into his touch. He tutted disapprovingly, “That’s the exact opposite of holding still.”

“I–” another gasp filled the room as Sylus took to drawing languid circles around the bundle of nerves between your legs, the accumulated moisture there making the action effortless and positively heavenly. It took an insane amount of restraint to keep your hips still despite the blissful torment, your breathing becoming increasingly erratic as Sylus played with you, testing your reactions and pushing your limits as though your body was a new toy he was trying out. Your nails dug into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself, your bottom lip throbbing as you savaged it with your teeth.

As soon as Sylus’ mouth appeared against your entrance, there was no stopping the unconscious jerk of your hips against his face. His muffled laughter against you didn’t help matters, and you wheezed shakily as you grabbed for a fistful of the sheets with one hand while slapping the other over your mouth. Keening, desperate little moans slipped through your fingers, Sylus’ tongue reducing you to a brainless pile of limbs faster than you could process. The tense muscle probed and swept inside of you while his thumb rubbed maddeningly over your clit, the dual stimulation borderline torturous, and your stifled groan drew Sylus’ attention as he increased the tempo of his tongue.

The arm draped across your waist extended in the next second, and you felt as the silver haired man grabbed for the hand covering your mouth. You let him pull your arm down to your side, his palm tracing down your heated skin until it reached your own, and then he was intertwining your fingers together to hold the limb there. His lips left your core for the briefest of moments, just long enough for him to murmur breathlessly, “Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me, kitten. I want to hear all of it.”

It should have been anatomically impossible, but you somehow managed to flush even deeper than before. Sylus kept his eyes on you as he returned to licking and sucking at your soaked center, his pupils blown wide and completely dilated as he worked to tear the most sinful, desperate noises from your scratchy throat. He truly looked like some kind of irresistible sex demon– risen from the depths of Hell to torment you and reduce you to a brainless, twitching mess of a human– and God was he succeeding. You were torn between wanting it all to end with your release and simultaneously wanting it to continue forever.

The idea of staying here for the rest of eternity was not an unpleasant one. Not in the slightest.

Sylus’ thumb vanished from your swollen nub, replaced almost immediately by his mouth as he sucked the tender bit of flesh between his lips, and the cry that ripped from your chest was unlike any sound you had ever heard yourself make. Your spine arched clean off the mattress, your hips pressing against Sylus’ face so forcefully that you were certain you had to be suffocating him, but as you tried to writhe away from the overwhelming ecstasy, Sylus clenched your hand tight in his and held you firmly where you were.

“Fuck– Sylus, please, please,” you babbled mindlessly, the tight, hot feeling in your lower stomach roaring to life as he teased his tongue over the small bit of flesh held firm between his soft lips. “I–I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come–”

The euphoric rush within your body was more powerful than any Aether Core. It was dazzling. Your muscles tensed, your mouth fell open, your eyes squeezed shut, and your hips bucked harshly against Sylus’ unrelenting mouth as an orgasm unlike any you had ever experienced washed over you. The sound of your hoarse voice dimly registered in your ears as you came, and you faintly realized that you were screaming– but there was nothing in the world that could interrupt the extraterrestrial experience you were currently living through– so your voice reverberated off the walls of the room until you were wholly and truly out of breath.

When you finally sagged back into the mattress, Sylus had eased up the intensity of his ministrations, much to his credit. His tongue made one final plunge into your wet walls to lap up the evidence of your pleasure before he pulled away entirely, and all you could do was tremble beneath him as he pushed himself up onto his knees.

He made no move to release your hand as he crawled over you, instead lifting and pinning the joined appendages beside your head before he dipped down to passionately kiss you. Sylus growled savagely as he swallowed up your pitiful mewling, every tiny sound you made fueling something deep inside of him. Trapped under him with nowhere to go, you were entirely at his mercy as his free hand came to slip under your neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss impossibly further. Sylus forced more of his tongue into your mouth and imbued you with the taste of yourself, humming thoughtfully when he felt your nails dig into the back of his hand, at which point he pulled back to stare down at you.

“I should count myself lucky that I have no neighbors this deep in the N109 Zone. I wouldn’t be surprised if you scared Mephisto off with that scream.”

“Screw,” you panted harshly in-between the words, “that bird.”

His hand clenched around the nape of your neck as a wicked smile stretched across his face. “You’re actually screwing me, in case you’ve forgotten. Or is your head still somewhere above the clouds?”

Leave it to Sylus and his smartassery bring you back down to Earth. “One of these days someone is going to cut out your mocking tongue,” you grumbled under your breath, though there was no genuine animosity in the statement.

Sylus only laughed, his red eyes twinkling with amusement and pure male satisfaction. “If that someone is you, I think I can rest easy. You seem to like my tongue far too much for that to be a viable threat.”

“…Touché.”

His lips resumed their relaxed exploration of yours, bestowing a few quick pecks to the corners of your mouth before he peppered a trail of kisses along your jaw, bumping your head to the side with his own as he went. His warm breath fanned across your sweat-slick skin as he sanguinely said, “I think you’ll like the other parts of me, too.”

On cue, you felt the hard length of him settle against your thigh as he continued to press his lips against your thundering pulse, your hand coming to grip his firm bicep as arousal buzzed through you. Not a shred of doubt existed within you as you hummed your approval, angling your head to the side to give Sylus more room to lick a broad stripe down the column of your neck. You wanted more, and you were well past the point of pretending you weren’t keenly interested in experiencing everything the leader of Onychinus had to offer.

In an act of complete and utter depravity, Sylus began rocking his hips against your thigh to rub his cock against your heated skin as he unabashedly groaned into the crook of your neck. You felt his sharp teeth clamp down on the skin above your clavicle before he sucked lightly, laving his tongue over the little bit of flesh he managed to latch on to. The barely there sting was more pleasant than anything, and you sighed contentedly when you felt him move higher to repeat the motion on another patch of unmarred skin.

A small, needy sound came from deep within your chest when Sylus abandoned his hold on the back of your neck to feel his way down your prone body, your eyes falling shut as you relished in his gentle fondling. You felt his fingers graze over your collarbone, then over the hardened peaks of your breasts, before settling between your legs once again. His touch against your clit was slow and testing, prompting you to lean your head back with a quiet gasp as you rocked your hips into Sylus’ hand. The movement played into Sylus’ steady rocking nicely– your pelvis elevating and sliding against his cock easily– and the low-pitched groan of approval he met you with had you smiling softly to yourself.

When Sylus pushed his finger into you again, you bit your lip at the same time he pulled his mouth off of your neck. You opened your bleary eyes to peer up at him, only to find that he was watching you with a tender sort of reverence. You flushed brightly under his flustering gaze, suddenly incredibly bashful at having him watch you so closely even though his mouth had just been ravaging your most intimate area– but despite that fact, you found yourself angling your face to the side in an attempt to hide your reactions.

“Oh no,” Sylus uttered, a lone tendril of his Evol snaking out to turn your face back to him. “No hiding, kitten. I don’t intend on missing a single one of the pretty expressions you make.”

As though to punctuate the statement, Sylus curled his finger inside of you up– just enough that he found the spot he’d been searching for– and his efforts pulled a strangled moan from you at the same time your hips jolted against his palm. “Sylus, I– hng–”

Your pleading was cut short by Sylus adding a second finger before he repeated the motion, taking care to slowly rub the pads of his fingers across that same spot over and over again, evidently drawing immense satisfaction in watching you wriggle and twitch under him. That damnable smirk of his showed itself once more as he pressed into the spot more insistently, his eyes devouring every inch of you as your stomach tensed and your toes curled, a telling warmth bleeding through your chest and coiling its way down between your legs.

It seemed impossible for any one person to be so good at this. Then again, this was Sylus, and you were fairly positive finding people’s weak points was something of a speciality of his.

The fact that your weak point was buried knuckle deep inside of you was irrelevant.

As Sylus continued to rub little circles over your sweet spot, he lowered his head once more to work yet another dark bruise into your skin, silently filing away the mental image of your body tensing and arching beneath him for later. The sight of you alone was enough to leave him breathless, but as nice as the imagery was, what really got to him were the sweet, gorgeous sounds of your voice. Your lips parted around quivering moans, tiny gasps slipping through every now and then, and your stammering pleas filled the quiet air around him and imbued him with a newfound sense of urgency.

Sylus had always loved the sound of your voice, but hearing what it was like when it was hitched and raspy, repeating his name like a mantra… he knew then that there was no better sound in the world. It would be all too easy for him to become addicted to it– to you.

As your whines became more urgent, your hips practically riding his fingers as he brought you close to the edge for a second time, Sylus couldn’t help but feel a sense of male pride. He was the one pulling those noises from you. He was the one you were calling out for, the one you were trusting to take you higher, to hold you and kiss you and make you feel good. He was the one making a noisy little wreck of you and branding you like he was born to do it.

He needed more. Sylus needed to feel you from the inside out, and the way his cock twitched in response to the thought was all the motivation he needed to withdraw his fingers from your soaked heat.

You were positively wrecked already– gorgeously so– with your eyes glazed and unfocused, your lips parted freely around beautiful moans and brainless praises, breathless whines of Sylus’ name escaping you alongside the rattling breaths you sucked down. He almost hated that he was interrupting when he murmured, “What do you think, sweetie? Think you’re ready for me?”

Your eyelids fluttered as your brain returned to the present moment, having completely spaced in lieu of Sylus’ never ending finger torture. Scrubbing a hand down your face, you rasped out, “F-Fuck, yeah, I’ve been ready. You’re the masochist drawing this out.”

Sylus laughed– the sound deep and rich– before pushing himself up and sitting back on his heels, the heavy head of his cock dragging over your impossibly wet entrance as he got settled. He finally let go of your hand to maneuver you exactly where he wanted you, your knees resting on either side of him as he gripped your waist with fiendish strength.

“It’s not masochism, sweetie,” he purred, sliding his rock hard member up and down your slit to further tease you. “I’m being attentive. There’s a difference.”

Sylus’ idea of being ‘attentive’ bordered dangerously close to persecution, because you were hanging on by a sliver of a thread after all his prep work. You swallowed thickly and wriggled your hips against his solid manhood, aiming to drive him into action before you lost your mind entirely. “I’ve been spoiled more than enough. If you’re any more attentive, the sun will start peeking through the blinds.”

“Would that be so bad?” Sylus pressed the blunt head of his cock against your hole, not pressing in yet, but applying enough pressure that your heart rate quickened in your chest. “If I have any say in the matter, we’ll be seeing the sunrise regardless.”

In one quick, fluid motion, Sylus effortlessly rolled his hips forward and pressed into your fluttering walls, a throaty growl reverberating within his chest as he was overcome with your unbelievable heat. The abrupt intrusion was far from unpleasant, but it was sudden enough that your mouth fell open around loud, stuttering moans, your eyes rolling back in your head as Sylus gingerly worked more of himself into you. Your hands scrambled for purchase against the silky sheets in an effort to compose yourself, and by the time he was sheathed nearly all the way within your core, your patience had evaporated.

The size of him was insane. You could feel every inch of him, every vein that lined his incredible length, and the way he pulsed against your walls reignited the flame of desire that burned in your blood.

“Sylus– God– Sylus,” you wheezed, tilting your head back as you forced yourself to relax your muscles. Rocking your hips up in search of stimulation wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. You needed to get fucked through the bed. You needed Sylus to plow you like the fucking world was ending, and the visceral want that coursed through you was so strong that you wanted to cry.

Sylus groaned your name, the combined effect of you calling for him and the feeling of your absolutely drenched cunt sucking him in deeper making his goddamn head spin. He wanted to be gentle– to let you get acclimated before he went any further– because it wasn’t egotistical for him to acknowledge that he was big compared to you. But when he felt the heel of your foot press against his lower back, silently urging him to move, his reservations dissipated into the night like vapor. He knew what you wanted, and being the thoughtful, quick learner that he was, there was nothing holding him back from giving it to you.

“No God here, kitten.” Sylus rewarded you with a deep, grinding thrust that left you frantic with hunger. “It’s just me, and you’re being so good for me.”

Before you even had time flush with embarrassment, Sylus gripped your thigh with one of his hands and braced himself over you with the other, then pulled out nearly all the way before ramming his cock back into you.

Your shrill voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, and your spine rounded clear off the mattress as you half whined, half screamed in ecstasy.

Every slam of Sylus’ hips knocked the breath out of your lungs, his powerful, cervix kissing thrusts leaving you winded as you blindly gathered a fistful of satin sheets in your trembling hands. His brutal rhythm never faltered as he pounded into you with inhuman stamina, breathing loud moans of your name while a mix of concentration and pure bliss settled over his stunning features. Lost in the throes of rapture, you could barely find the brainpower to appreciate the sight of him above you, but you sure as hell tried.

Sylus’ muscles rippled with power as he held himself over you and pumped his hips; his abdomen undulated, his shoulders tensed, and his lower half moved in a way you could only describe as wave-like. It was too much, and yet you couldn’t get enough of it. Every time he would withdraw his cock and leave you nearly empty, another toe curling thrust would follow, the force of his hips connecting against your ass jolting you up the bed until you were bracing your hands on the headboard, pushing back against him desperately.

Entranced by your attempts, Sylus let you move back against him for a few beats– just enough to appreciate how your ass bounced against his pale hips– until the urge to take you over again completely filled him. He groaned, low and savage, and released his hold on your thigh to slide his hand under the curve of your spine, pressing you against him hard enough that you could barely move at all. Your whimpered protest fell on deaf ears, and Sylus hauled you back down the bed to pin you under him with his upper body in an act of complete possession, and you were almost tempted to pray when you heard his animalistic growl against your ear.

Sylus leaned his weight onto the hand braced against the mattress before fucking into you harder, faster, his long thrusts switching to deep, hammering ruts that drove the swollen head of his cock against your sweet spot so fast and so precisely that it damn near knocked you out. If you could use words at all anymore, you would have warned Sylus that you were about to come. There was no fucking way you couldn’t– not when you were so full of his cock, your throat raw from sucking him off earlier and from screaming. You were being held down and fucked like you were Sylus’ personal toy, his nails scratching at your back as his hand curled into a fist in his efforts to hold you closer to him.

“You feel–” Sylus gritted through his teeth, the deep tenor of his voice making you clench around him impossibly further, “–so fucking incredible.”

All you could manage was a broken stammer, “S-Sylus, I’m– I’m–”

The soft strands of his hair brushed across your cheek as Sylus’ face loomed directly over yours, and when you blinked up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes, his one command threatened to bring tears to your eyes.

“Don’t even think about coming.”

Your noisy, incoherent pleas were ignored as Sylus continued to dominate you. Somehow in the midst of railing you through the bed, he moved his hand away from your back to dexterously maneuver your bent legs up, hooking them over his shoulders before bracing his weight on his forearm, and the result was catastrophic in the best possible way. Every inch of your body was vibrating, the pleasure mounting in your lower stomach driving you to abandon your hold on the sheets so you could rake your nails down Sylus’ shoulders. Fighting against the urge to finish was nigh impossible, your focus shifting to the feeling of his muscles working to fuck you as well as the enticing sound of skin slapping against skin.

Your vision was blurring. Your legs were quaking so violently that you were surprised Sylus wasn’t shaking along with them. He laughed wickedly as he took in the sight of you beneath him, dragging his free hand down to feel around your body for something. Through the haze of it all, you didn’t realize what he was searching for until you felt his fingers on your clit, and the sound that left your mouth wasn’t one that you’d ever thought you could make.

He wasn’t just a masochist, he was a fucking sadist.

Your head snapped back against the bed as you wailed desolately, your begging and pleading reduced to shaky iterations of “Pleasepleaseplease” as the pain from being on edge for so long drove you to madness. Overwhelmed tears streaked down your temples, frustration and desperation and too much fucking pleasure twining together with the sharp ache of holding back. Every one of the sensations that wracked your body pooled into an immense rush of stimulation that had you moaning out a string of incomprehensible curses, until finally Sylus decided to have mercy on you.

“Eyes on me, kitten. Show me what you look like coming on my cock.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

Sylus’ finger flicked over your now tender bundle of nerves once, twice, and then the world went white around you. You could dimly register Sylus’ gravely moans as he watched you crumble, his brows pinched with focus as he drank in the sight of your lips parting around a rattling gasp, his rough thrusting never letting up. It was so good– better than anything you had ever imagined– and your body trembled violently as Sylus’ movements became more erratic, but all you could pay any attention to was the blistering heat that flowed through your veins.

Amidst the exultation of your release, you felt Sylus’ hand return to yours, your fingers interlacing in a contrasting act of tenderness as his thrusts became shallower, his breathing turning heavier. He committed the expression on your face to memory instantly, and it took everything in him to savor every second of your fluttering walls sucking him in deeper before he was coming too– one last powerful thrust finding its mark. Thick, hot release filled you, the added sensation bringing you higher than you thought possible, and Sylus groaned appreciatively as he ground his hips against your ass to milk every last drop into you.

You were still catching your breath when Sylus finally stilled his movements, his haggard panting reaching you through the distant buzzing that rang in your ears. There was no way for you to know how long the two of you laid there joined from the waist down, but you knew that it took a good chunk of time before either one of you could think clearly enough to form words. Eventually, his soft hands gripped your calves to guide your legs off his shoulders and towards the mattress, the trembling limbs settling there like dead weight.

Sylus brushed his fingers against your neck to rouse you from your post-coital state, and when you cracked open your heavy lids to peer up at him, his expression was one of relative amusement. “You alright, sweetie?”

“Mhm.” You hummed your response, and even though your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, you managed to mumble, “I can’t feel my legs.”

The sudden bark of laughter that burst from Sylus was something you’d never heard before, and you watched as he shook his head to himself before slowly pulling out of you. Part of you missed the feeling of him stretching you the second he was gone, but a bone deep fatigue that was much stronger than your meager feelings was winning the war of what you deemed important. Your eyelids started to slide shut of their own accord, every muscle in your body going lax as you melted into the bed.

Sylus watched you with a measure of worship, utterly transfixed by everything about you. He gently skimmed his fingers over your stomach as he moved to settle against the pillows, taking exceptional care not to jostle you too much while he got comfortable. You didn’t seem to think similarly, however, because as soon as you felt his weight ease into the mattress, you were throwing your arm over his broad chest and hitching one of your legs over his, effectively straddling him sideways as if he were your own personal body pillow.

He laughed softly, moving to cradle you close with one arm while his other moved to lovingly brush your hair out of your eyes. Sighing contentedly, you fixed your eyes on the record player across the room, suddenly overcome with a strange sense of fondness for the Onychinus leader. “You know,” you murmured, your voice slightly muffled against his firm chest. “You’re not what I expected, Sylus.”

“Hm? What exactly were you expecting?”

The cautious edge to his voice told you that he was prepared to hear the worst, but you surprised him by rolling your head to the side to plant a chaste kiss right above his heart. “It doesn’t matter. I just know that I wish more people were like you.”

Sylus smiled, letting his head tip back against the headboard while he used his Evol to turn off the lights, plunging the room into comfortable darkness. “Careful, kitten. Keep up the flattery and I won’t take you home in the morning.”

Your hand traced lazy shapes against his torso, and the corner of your mouth quirked up as you glanced up at him through your lashes. “I don’t work tomorrow… besides, I seem to remember you saying you’d keep me awake long enough to see the sunrise. Or were those just empty words?”

A devilish grin stretched across his face as he took your hand in his, pulling you to the side until you were made to roll entirely on top of him so you were straddling his hips. His lower half began to rouse back to life as you settled into place in his lap, and Sylus gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger as his lustful gaze bored into your very soul. “I was going to be nice and let you sleep, but if this is the game you want to play, then I’ll hold true to my word. Any objections?”

Your fingers wrapped around his thick wrist as you brought your face closer to his, your eyes greedily falling to his lips. It should have worried you how addicted to him you already appeared to be, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Sylus’ cock twitched against you as your gaze rose to meet his, a silent challenge twinkling behind your irises.

“None at all.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

As the night droned on, you came to realize that these were the sorts of promises that you didn’t mind making with him, especially when the sunlight streaming through the curtains hours later conveyed that Sylus had made good on his promise. The break of day didn’t stop him though– not in the slightest. His stamina and vigor remained intact as he dutifully ravished you all through the early hours of the morning, and as you fell apart beneath him once more, the only thing you knew for certain was that it was going to be a long, long weekend.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #lads sylus #love and deepspace fanfiction #lads fanfic #love and deepspace fanfic #lads fanfiction #sylus smut #love and deepspace oneshot #my writing #this shit is LONG #already wanting to write shower smut or something because of misty invasion releasing this week #anyways I can't proof read this thing anymore I was up until 2am making revisions so ENJOY

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neo--queen--serenity · 8 months ago

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This episode really highlighted how close Marcille, Laios, and Chilchuck actually are.

The viewer is used to seeing our main characters behave like coworkers up to this point—even friends—and they express normal, understandable levels of concern and fear when their other party members are in danger. But when the nightmare attacked Marcille, it brought out sides of Laios and Chilchuck that the viewer hadn’t seen before.

Laios immediately notices when something is wrong with Marcille, and he tells the others as soon as he’s sure of the problem. Chilchuck and Senshi then follow Laios’ lead as it becomes clear that he intends to make her get some rest.

We see Chilchuck’s hands lay out the bedroll and Senshi’s hands set up the pillow, working in almost perfect tandem as Laios physically wrangles Marcille into bed.

Senshi is in a similar perspective as the viewer, and mostly sits and watches the ordeal unfold. He doesn’t have a shared history, like these three do, so he helps in little ways, but mostly waits on standby for direction.

From here on out, it’s mostly Laios and Chilchuck who take over in planning how to help her.

It’s uncommon for Chilchuck to openly show such distress and worry for one of his party members. He’s used to Marcille being able to defend herself; he’s used to her being capable and strong. He immediately defers to Laios for instruction, (rightly) assuming he will know what to do.

This actually produces a reaction close to real fear from Chilchuck, who outright SMACKS her in a panic to wake her up before getting any further information.

Laios has to quickly stop him, explaining that he could truly hurt her if he interrupts the attack this way. He tells them how he’s going to wake her, and he doesn’t hesitate. He jumps straight in, explaining what he’s doing for the others so that they (Chilchuck) won’t be afraid.

Chilchuck doesn’t question him once. He just does what he can to hurry along the process. He tucks Laios in with his blanket as soon as he lays onto Marcille—an unnecessary action that betrays how much he cares for both of them.

And Laios succeeds in helping Marcille out of the nightmare’s grasp. While trapped in her mind, he reassures her, protects her, tells her how much she’s valued and appreciated. He isn’t embarrassed or sheepish about it, either; he openly declares these things like it’s the most normal and obvious thing in the world.

He gets her out, he saves her. He did the exact thing he set out to do, even though he’d never done it before, and only had Falin’s secondhand information to work with.

Once he wakes, Chilchuck immediately checks on him to see if he’s alright. Chilchuck is clearly still rattled, displeased with having to wait while both of his close friends were unconscious, fighting a battle neither he nor Senshi could see or help with.

Marcille wakes up shortly after Laios, but Chilchuck is still on edge, worrying that she’ll fall back asleep. Laios, too, has a moment of alarm when he makes sure she won’t close her eyes again.

Once he takes the subdued nightmares out of Marcille’s pillow, only then do Laios and Chilchuck relax.

Laios, for his part, remained calm and collected almost the entire time. He did not show panic or fear when it became clear that Marcille was being attacked, nor when he told the rest of the party what he’d be doing to help her. And once the nightmares had been collected from her bedroll, he gently explained what happened, to everyone else’s horror.

Seeing this, it’s not a huge surprise that the Touden party is so successful. We’ve seen Laios handle danger with a level head; we know he’s capable.

But it’s an entirely different kind of talent to face a threat that’s targeting one of your closest friends—which can make even the most competent fighter sloppy out of fear of losing them—one that requires a high-risk, specific rescue style that none of you have ever tried before. And then pull it off flawlessly. Like damn, these guys are lucky to have him.

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grantbond · 2 days ago

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“Stella…” Grayson started, his voice low and steady, a contrast to the turmoil she felt. He reached out gently, trying to reassure her without overwhelming her. “I know you’re scared. I can see it. But we’ll figure this out together. You don’t have to go through this alone.” His tone was firm, but there was a softness there, a tenderness that only she could see. He wanted her to know that, no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t just going to walk away, even if she tried to push him away for her own sake. When she mentioned Trevor coming after him, the thought made his stomach twist, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he tightened his grip on her hand, giving her a soft but reassuring squeeze. “You’re not going to lose me, Stella. Not over him, not over anything,” he said, his words steady and sincere. "I'll phone the cops on his ass if he tries anything with any of us." Her thank you hit him like a wave, making his chest tighten. He had no idea what it meant to her, what she was really going through. He wished he could do more, say the right words that would make the fear in her eyes disappear, but all he could offer was himself, and for now, that had to be enough. He met her gaze, his voice soft as he replied, “You don’t have to thank me. I’m not doing this for repayment, Stella. I’m doing this because you matter. Because I care.” He didn’t need her gratitude. He just needed her to trust him, to believe that this wasn’t just something he was doing out of obligation, but out of choice. Out of love. As they approached the door, Grayson noticed the hesitation in her step, the way her shoulders tensed. He didn’t need her to explain why she was asking for his jacket—he could see the terror in her eyes. She was trying to protect him, but it wasn’t just herself she was worried about anymore. It was him too. And that thought, that she cared enough to consider his safety, made his heart ache. “Of course,” he said immediately, pulling his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. His hands brushed against her skin, lingering just for a moment before he pulled away. “No one’s going to hurt you, not while I’m here.” His voice was calm, even as the gravity of her situation settled over him. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe, and if wearing his jacket helped, then it was a small price to pay. When she spoke again, her words faltered, filled with so much shame that it twisted Grayson’s gut. He didn’t need to think twice about it—he had already made his decision. "Stella, stop," he interrupted gently but firmly, his hand tightening around hers. "I don’t care about money. I don’t care about any of that. I care about you." His eyes softened as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don’t have to pay me back for anything. You just have to let me help you. You don’t owe me anything. You’re not a burden, Stella, and you never will be." His thumb gently traced the back of her hand, reassuring her in the only way he knew how. "I'm not walking away from this or you. We're going to walk together to my car I'm taking you home for however long you need. I don't have a time limit - you can continue to stop there." Grant didn't see it as a burden. He was one man living in a two bedroom house. If Stella needed company for a couple of nights - he didn't mind staying in the same room and putting a pillow and a blanket on the floorboards so she knew she nothing was going to happen there. "You deserve to feel at peace, Stella."

stella wasn’t in a good place. she wasn’t sure how she’d even gotten here today, sitting beside grant, confiding in him about the things she’d kept hidden for so long. if it weren’t for him noticing the bruises, she probably wouldn’t have said anything. she would’ve just kept going, surviving in silence. but something about the way he told her she’d be fine made her believe him. even if she was terrified. "but i feel like i have to worry," she murmured, her voice trembling as she clutched her bag tighter. "he’s not going to care who you are, or if you can take him. he’ll be mad. really mad. not just at me but at you, too." her eyes flicked to grant, filled with fear and guilt. she couldn’t stop imagining the worst—trevor coming after him, hurting him because of her. the thought made her stomach churn. "if something happens to you because of me..." she trailed off, unable to finish the thought. grant’s words about not being a burden felt kind, but she couldn’t quite believe them. still, she nodded, not wanting to argue. everything felt like it was moving too fast. was she really doing this? leaving trevor after years of enduring his control, his anger, his fists? she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. the only thing that kept her moving was grant. he was the reason she was here, the reason she might actually have a chance to break free. she glanced at him as he reassured her again, his calm presence anchoring her as she fumbled to turn off her phone. after a moment of hesitation, she threw it into her bag and grabbed his hand, clutching it tightly. her fingers trembled against his, but she didn’t let go. she couldn’t. “thank you,” she said softly, her voice breaking. the words felt so small compared to what he was doing for her. she didn’t know how she’d ever repay him for helping her, for pulling her out of the hell she’d been trapped in. as they approached the door, she hesitated. “do you mind if i borrow your jacket or sweatshirt? i just... i want to throw the hood over my head,” she asked, her voice quiet, almost ashamed. it wasn’t because of grant—she wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with him. it was the terror of trevor, or someone who knew trevor, spotting her. she didn’t want to risk it. not for herself, but for him. she couldn’t bear the thought of trevor hurting grant. she’d spent years not caring what happened to herself, but grant? he mattered. she couldn’t let him get hurt because of her. “grant...” she stopped short just before they reached the door. her grip on his hand tightened. “i don’t have any money. or anything. he was in charge of all my accounts... everything.” her voice cracked as she exhaled shakily. "are you sure you can do this? i won’t be able to help you. or pay for anything. it’s not fair to ask you to do all this for me." she shook her head, her face filled with shame. "you’re not a bad person if you think twice about it. i wouldn’t blame you if you walked away." but she prayed he wouldn’t. because if he did, she wasn’t sure she’d survive.

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months ago

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pkay! so i was wondering if u could do a jace x reader where after the funeral she takes him and comforts him and looks after him in the bedroom to help him calm down because he had to act strong infront of his family but in the contents of his own chambers he could let himself cry on them!

Another one for Jace because this scene broke us all. This will be the last one about this scene. I have written three versions of different moments, I think all has been said

Warnings: mention of death, grief, panic attack

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You stood alongside Rhaena and Baela during the funeral. Behind you stood Corlys and Rhaenys, all mourning the loss of Lucerys.

Along with the remains she found on the shore, the Queen threw in the pyre her son’s clothes. Jacaerys stepped up next and threw the baby swaddle their mother used when he was a baby. And lastly, Jacaerys picked up Joffrey, who threw the horse toy Lucerys had when he was little. It had been handed to him when he grew out of playing with it, but it was still Lucerys’.

Your heart ached at how Joffrey clung to his big brother, who himself had his eyes filled with tears threatening to spill. You wanted to go up to him and hold his hand, but the time was not right.

When the flames of the pyre finally extinguished, everyone retreated inside. The Queen had withdrawn to her chambers with her youngest sons. Losing one had only intensified her need to keep the others close.

Your eyes searched the hall for the one who was promised to you, but Jacaerys was nowhere in sight. To your left, you noticed Rhaena and Baela, who had just parted from their grandmother. You approached them, and Rhaena, who had lost her betrothed, welcomed you with a brief but heartfelt hug.

‘’Have you seen Jacaerys?’’ you asked them.

Rhaena shook her head, but Baela nodded. ‘’I saw him taking the stairs minutes ago.’’

You thanked her and followed her lead.

Upstairs, you knew exactly where to go.

Inside your chamber, you found Jacaerys pacing the room with frantic steps, one of his hands gripping his chest. His breathing was ragged and shallow, and his face contorted with panic. He pulled at his doublet, feeling like it was choking him and stopping air from getting into his lungs.

You rushed to his side, alarmed. ‘’Jace,’’ you called out, your voice tinged with concern and confusion.

His head snapped in your direction, his face filled with fear and tears. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what was happening, and neither did you.

‘’Should I fetch the maester?’’ you asked, your heart clenching with worry.

‘’It... hurts... can't breathe…’’ he managed to gasp, his voice strained with desperation. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, as if the air was somehow refusing to fill his lungs.

Jacaerys pulled at his doublet again.

You tried to remain calm, knowing that panic would only make the situation worse. You reached out and undid the buttons on the front of his doublet, hoping to loosen the constriction around his chest. But even as the tight fabric released its grip, it didn’t seem to help. His chest continued to heave and shudder, each breath sounding like a painful struggle.

‘’Let’s sit.’’

He nodded, his eyes wide with fear as he allowed you to guide him to the settee. With every step, his breathing only seemed to get more and more erratic, each gasp sounding like a strangled sob.

Once he was seated, you knelt in front of him, your hands gently gripping his trembling ones, offering what little comfort you could. His chest continued to rise and fall rapidly, each breath sounding as if it was being wrenched from his lungs. His eyes were fixed on you, panic still evident in his gaze, but there was also a glimpse of vulnerability there, as if he was silently pleading for your help.

It was heart-wrenching to see him in such a state, his normally calm and collected demeanor completely shattered.

You squeezed his hands gently, hoping to offer some small comfort. ‘’Focus on me,’’ you urged him, your voice soft but firm. ‘’Listen to my voice. Try to match your breaths to mine. Inhale.’’ You breathed in deeply, exaggerating each inhalation and exhalation, hoping that Jacaerys would follow your lead. ‘’Exhale. In through your nose, out through your mouth.’’

He tried, his eyes locked onto your face as you breathed in and out. At first, his breaths only seemed to become more shallow and labored, but gradually, they began to match the pace of yours. Each gasped inhalation slowly started to become less frantic and more controlled.

After a moment, he calmed down and you wiped his tears.

‘’Thank you for helping me. I don’t know how this happened. I…I thought I was going to die.’’

You rose to your feet and wrapped your arms around him.

He buried his face in your shoulder, still shaking from the intensity of the experience. He wrapped his arms around you, clinging to you tightly, as if holding on for dear life.

‘’I was so scared,’’ he whispered, his voice still shaky and raw. ‘’I thought I was losing control. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think... It was like everything was closing in on me.’’

You held him tightly, one hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. His body was warm and solid against yours, his muscles tense with lingering fear.

You hushed gently, kissing his shoulder. ‘’You're okay now. You're safe with me.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

All and more taglist: @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13@cece05@laylasbunbunny@gemofthenight@beautyb1ade@mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog@queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity @Anouknani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon imagine

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shewolfofvilnius · 10 months ago

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I feel sorry for Orin

repurposed from an old Reddit post of mine

Edit: Wrote an epilogue fic where my Durge, Sofija, seeks redemption for her sister with the Gods

Raised from birth in the Bhaal cult and has never known ANYTHING else. Literally the result of incest between her mom and Sarevok (her father AND grandfather) - and for her entire life is actively manipulated and groomed to worship her "Grandfather" second only to Bhaal (leaving a disgusting implication that Sarevok might eventually try again). Literally every single day of her life spent in a murder cult, never knowing anything else.

Her mother is actively manipulated when Orin is seven to try to kill her daughter, only for Orin to reflexively kill her first, at which point Orin was briefly possessed by Bhaal himself (per some Sarevok dialogue). AT AGE SEVEN. And even from a young age, Orin's true gift is her artistry, a talent that outside the Bhaal cult probably could have been nurtured into something phenominal, but inside the cult is twisted into a sinisterness in the kill that, when she's out of earshot is decried as wasteful.

She eventually rises through the ranks (never have had any choice), having never felt a meaningful moment of compassion or kindness and, desperate to be cared about, sees the power and fear and respect her bloodkin (The Dark Urge) has gained and uses their hubris to take them out.

Ironically, in the timeline where Durge lives, they get a gift Orin couldn't even dream of - a 2nd chance. With their brain scrambled and the tadpole present but being interfered with, the Dark Urge got a chance to be someone new. (Whether they accept or reject that 2nd chance, they at least got a choice this time).

What did Orin get for her troubles? Her (grand)father openly coveted to either take her out, or worse, take her out - when the time was right, her own allies both detested her (Gortash openly revels at the idea of working with the Dark Urge again)

and most brutally, if you manage to confront her with the truth, any of it? About Sarevok, about her mother, etc? She immediately believes you. And for one (1) moment, maybe there's hope for her.

Hope that Bhaal immediately rips away; an Orin confronted with the truth and showing even the slightest hesitation is immediately forcibly transformed into the Slayer by Bhaal himself, with a strong implication that the core of the old Orin is gone forever win, lose, or draw. "No more doubts, no more fears, no more Orin. Become murder.". Seeing what Bhaal's reaction was the moment Orin had one (1) instant of hesitation also confirms that she'd likely have never had the chance to choose differently, either Bhaal would always step in or else she'd eventually meet her end.

Imagine the AU where Orin takes her CLEAR flair and artistic talent to become a truly great artist. Where she gets the same second chance that Durge got - If she'd been able to use her talent for impersonation and desire to great to do something powerful instead of being forced by her family from childhood into the family business of murder.

She literally never had a chance. Even Bane and Myrkul and their respective cults were never so unfathomably cruel, and she never knew anything else.

At least for my own first game, though, my Durge recognized that without her "sister," she'd have never gotten the chance to save the world, never met Shadowheart, never stopped a century worth of Ketheric's torture on Dame Aylin, never set in motion the liberation of the Githyanki...In the right world states, Orin unwittingly saved the world, but it's a world she'll never get to see or know, and probably never could have.

That's tragic as hell.

#baldur's gate 3 #orin the red #orin #orin bg3 #bg3 orin #dark urge #the dark urge #durge #durge bg3 #bhaal #bhaalspawn #sarevok #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #canon #bg3 durge #orin as gortash

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worldsover · 9 months ago

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Professor Knows ft. Arin

(5.5k words)

You’re seated at the front of the lecture hall, and you’re not sure if you’re in class, or a movie theater with an actress playing a prank for some hidden camera, and here comes the host ready to pop out at any time; hold in your jaw, please. But no, that’s Professor Arin, and everyone here thinks it’s normal that her white pinstripe dress shirt and her gray skirt are both short enough to reveal so much skin that you’re already picturing her naked so that if you were to be saying a speech in front of a thousand people, that’s 1/1000th down to make the task easier.

That’s Professor Arin, teaching passionately, and you don’t give a damn about what you’re learning because this isn’t your campus, and you just wanted to get to graduation already—well, those are the excuses. You don’t give a damn because you’re drooling at the so-called professor dressed more like a slutty schoolgirl/pornstar emulation of one, or at least you have to hold back from drooling.

You are mesmerized by her perfect hourglass figure, and her heels—goodness, those heels. In her knife-thin heels, she’s rocking an entire lecture hall like she’s that one summer fling that got away, stabbing at hearts and bleeding them dry. How do your classmates do it? How can they concentrate with those hips swaying, and a pencil skirt so tight you can read a book on her ass? How can you focus when she bends over to pick up a dropped pen, and you’re one millimeter away from seeing the absolute territory? You’d call it collective self-control of an entirely different level.

It could be how friendly and bubbly she is. Overtly touchy with all her students, she treats everyone like longtime personal friends, casually grabbing arms and shoulders, patting backs and heads, and no one minds because why would they. The only one minding is you since she doesn't treat you the same way. You would often shift in your seat as the fabric of your pants becomes taut against your honesty whenever she catches your gaze.

And whenever she catches your gaze, for a beat, your heart stops. But then she smiles impassively and continues her lesson without any chalance. You exhale, relieved she didn’t read your mind.

That’s how it goes on for the entire semester: hell on earth, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Or so you believed. Arin, as it turns out, is omniscient or psychic or maybe just some hair-level more observant than an average student like you—she's the one at the front of the class after all. She knows everything she's doing to you. She must. You hope. Pray. Beg.

Arin calls you into her office one day. This is it. The rumors. She’s a total nympho, a freak, down for anyone half good-looking, and you’d say you’re not so bad yourself.

She's sitting down in her leather chair, her crossed legs revealing just a hint of lace-adorned thighs; you lose your cockiness the moment you're inside the room. You're captivated by the soft, warm lighting that illuminates Arin's flawless features. Her lips are a shade of red that begs to be tasted, and you wonder what those luscious curves must feel like against your own. You swallow a dry lump in your throat, mentally willing your erection to subside.

"Sit down," she purrs, her voice as sensual as silk against your overheated skin. Her eyes never leaving yours, she uncrosses her legs and recrosses them in a way that makes her skirt ride even higher. That's more of her thighs. Less of your sanity.

Your fingers clench into fists at your sides and then you take a seat in the chair across from her, acutely aware of the space between you.

"So, Mr. Lee," she begins, raking her eyes over you, "I've called you here today because I've noticed something... interesting about you." Her voice trails off, and she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table separating you. You swallow hard, fearing and praying for what she might say next.

"Interesting?" you manage to croak out, cursing yourself for sounding like a lovesick puppy. Arin has reduced you to a puddle of hormones with a single look.

"I’ve noticed your… attention in class," she says, removing her glasses, and you're done for. "I want to make sure all my students are participating, fully engaged."

"I am, Professor," you whine.

"Just call me Arin," she says.

You blush. "Arin, of course."

Space becomes even more of an attention hog; the room feels like it shrunk a thousand times its size now, every one of your heartbeats echoing off the four walls, the bookshelves as your eyes follow her fingers, which now travel up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher. Your breath catches in your throat as she uncrosses her legs, revealing just so the white fabric of her panties. Arousal hits you like a ton of bricks, your cock throbbing in your pants. You swallow hard, trying to moisten your mouth as she gets up from her chair and sits on her desk instead.

Then, she touches you for the first time, like she's your classroom crush, finally noticing your feelings, and you can believe that easily, the woman at most a few years your senior. It's a simple touch, a brush of her index along the back of your hand and wrist, yet it's enough to spike the little hairs onto ends like you're touching a Van de Graaff generator. The moment she lets go: there's the blue-white snappy little spark. At this heightened state of awareness, your eyes are flies or bumblebees or hummingbirds, your heart the latter's. You can't make sense of anything else but her.

"I think we both know why I called you in here, don’t we?" she asks, her voice husky.

Now, it's your turn to speak up. Choose your next move wisely.

You say, slowly, "I need to… learn. My lesson."

Arin nods, hops off the edge of the desk. Her smile turns from sultry to goofy. (How’d she do that?) "Exactly!" She pushes a couple of papers in front of you. "Practice these cast studies, I’ll have you read them for the class next lecture."

You were about to get hit by a truck, didn’t get hit by a truck, and felt disappointed that you didn’t get hit by a truck. You take the papers, nod, and leave with your head down. She waves bye when you look back.

Fast forward to the next lecture. You’re a hot mess. You didn’t sleep, rehearsed those damn lines a hundred times as if you were some damn actor. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can’t for the life of you stop staring at her high heels and gym-toned midriff, showcasing themselves like they were on display.

Your turn comes around, and Arin nods at you to read aloud. You take a deep breath, step forward, and start reading. Your voice is shaky at first but soon, you find your rhythm. Her encouraging looks don’t help, her leg bouncing up and down playfully. Occasionally she’d take her glasses off, chew on the end of them...

Your mind starts to wander into dirty places you'd rather not mention here, but suffice to say, your pants are a little too tight now. It has you stumbling over words when you thought you had it. You force yourself to focus on the text in front of you, but it’s near impossible when she leans in and whispers in your ear.

"Mmm. Getting warmer," she says.

Your voice cracks a little as you try to regain control of your senses but it was no use; you were all hers now. Arin has successfully reduced you to putty in her hands with just one sexy whisper-purr hybrid thing she did so well.

You finish the rest of the reading, and when you look up, you see her staring at you, eyes hooded. It means nothing; you’ve learned this quickly. There’s no truck to be hit by, just the ghost of a promise of one.

You’re in the club later that night, and your balls are ocean/sky/blue-raspberry blue. You down your fourth shot of vodka, determined to forget about it all. There are a lot of girls here. Your friends are going for it. Good for them. They’re all from your old campus, so they would have never met Arin. That adds up.

"You okay, man?" Dongwoo asks, patting you on the back.

You down another shot. "Fine, just fine," you slur.

"She was something, wasn’t she?" he asks, grinning like an idiot. You can only assume he was talking about some girl you must’ve hit on.

"Arin?"

The world tilts on its axis as Dongwoo whips his head around so fast you fear for his neck health. "How do..."

"Long story." You wave him off and order another round, beer this time. "Tell me more."

Dongwoo leans in and starts spilling, but all you can think about is the way Arin looked at you today in class. And how her voice curled itself around your cock like a python around a deer and squeezed just as tightly.

You think about it so much that when you get back to your dorm on campus, stumbling around, world spinning, you make your way to that very lecture hall.

And then you sober up, real fast.

Moans fill the large room. Thick, throaty, oh-god-yes moans.

"Fuck," you gasp, covering your mouth as you peek through a small crack in the door. "She’s..."

Arin, your perfect goddess of a professor, is on the floor, skirt hiked up, glasses askew, as her fingers work in and out like engine pistons.

Your heart pounds as you watch Arin pleasure herself on the lecture hall floor, her soft moans filling the room. She arches her back, her free hand groping her breasts through her silk blouse as her fingers delve deeper. You can't tear your eyes away from the erotic display, mesmerized by the way her body writhes with each thrust of her fingers.

A quiet whimper escapes your lips, and Arin's eyes suddenly lock onto yours through the cracked door. At first, she tenses up, but then, her face softens, and she’s smiling. Then she’s frowning and shaking her head. You know this, understand this, are running through the whole gamut of emotions yourself. You’ve heard the rumors are true, to an extent. She has indeed slept with every professor, male and female, that she’s deemed decent enough. Never crossed a line with a student.

You're frozen in place, unable to move as Arin saunters over to the door, her fingers still wet with her juices. She smells like sex and orchids, two of your favorite things now that you think about it. She closes the door behind you, then laughs at you.

"You smell like booze," she says. She’s wearing that same outfit, the skirt so short you’re ready to go all-in on temperance, whip the ruler out, have her punished for wearing something so scandalous if whatever lord above smite her now, you don’t blame His lightning. Her thighs are a juicy steak—the juice is a trail of something clear.

You look down. "Y-you… you smell like…"

Arin doesn’t know what to do with her hands like how you don’t know what to do with your hands. She also lowers her head. "Fuck. I really, really shouldn’t do this."

Two breaths, heaving, yours and hers.

"You’re right. I’m sorry, Prof—"

She presses her index finger against your lips, and you get a close whiff of her taste. "Why are you apologizing? It’s my fault. And… Arin."

"Can I call you Noona?"

Arin giggles. "Sure."

"Noona," you mumble, your heart in your throat, "I shouldn’t have—"

"Then why are you still standing there? If you’re going to apologize, at least do it right."

"A-apologize?"

Arin rolls her eyes and pulls you toward the seating. When she sits down, your spot, front of the class, she brings you to the floor, where you can see her skirt hiked up even higher. "I was so close, but fine. Apologize for interrupting me by…" She inclines her head toward her wet panties. "You know what to do, right?"

You never thought you’d be kneeling where you pay halfhearted attention to useless studies, but sure, this is church now. Pray. Pray at the altar of the space between Arin’s thighs which heaven envies for lack of same glory, or the idyll garden where the cuff of her socks squeezes the ample flesh. You hesitate, taking in her scent. It’s so much stronger here. So much more Arin.

"Hurry up. Don’t make me regret this." Her fingers in your hair—oh, you won't make her regret this, no, no. You press your lips to her thighs, kissing your way up her inner thighs with a fervor that would make the most devout jealous as you lick-suck-peck at the bare skin and taste the sweat on your tongue, delicious and tangy and a hint of that musky flavor. Oh, she’s been dripping for a while.

Your cock reacts, throbbing in your pants like you haven't had a single drink tonight, as you finally reach the holy of holies.

Arin’s thigh-high clad legs are wrapped around your head, depriving you of basic breath, but you don't care. This is the rapture, and you’d die for her right now and be satisfied. You slide your tongue between her folds, lapping at the nectar she so generously shares as her moans spur you onward. You can hear her panting above you, feel her rocking into your mouth in time with your ministrations. She tastes better than any woman you've ever been with, salty like the sea and as sweet as honey.

"Fuck," she gasps, and you faithfully redouble your efforts. Her grip tightens on your hair as she grinds against your face, and it’s a miracle you don’t pass out from oxygen deprivation or an erection that won't quit. "Yess," Arin hisses, her heels digging into the ground.

"Fuck!" Her juices flood your mouth in a tidal wave of orgasmic release as you swallow every drop like a good little student. She squeezes your face tightly between her thighs, forcing every last drop out of her before finally letting go with a shudder.

"Fuck…" she breathes out, combing her fingers through your hair. "That was unexpected."

Arin blushes, and you smile into her crotch. Reluctantly, you pull away, then return to your seat as Arin adjusts her skirt and glasses, straightening her hair. As you lean back on your heels, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, proud and embarrassed by your performance."Did I do good, Noona?"

Arin laughs out a low and throaty sound. "Oh, you did more than good. But I think it's my turn to apologize now."

"Why?" you ask.

She smiles slyly, reaching down to grab your hand and pull you to your feet. "Because I've been teasing you all night." Arin leans in, her warm breath dancing over your ear. "And I’m not one to leave a task half-finished."

Led by the hand, you follow her into her office, leaving the empty classroom behind. The door closes with a resounding click, sealing you both inside. So this is where the real lesson begins.

The office is a complete one-eighty from the cold, sterile environment of her classroom. You didn’t realize it before, too focused on her to see anything else. Warm, rich colors greet your eyes, and the scent of vanilla and sandalwood fills the air. Arin's desk is a sea of piled-up papers and knick-knacks, but she clears a space for you as she pushes them aside.

"Sit," she commands, motioning to the plush leather chair in front of her desk at as she locks the door behind you with an audible click. The sound of the lock engaging sobers you up at once.

Arin, your professor, just had her way with your mouth and now you're about to... what? Your mind reels with possibilities as she saunters around the room, slackening her black tie and unbuttoning her blouse one button at a time. Each button revealed another inch of porcelain skin, bared for your hungry eyes only. Her dress shirt hangs loosely on her now, just like her tie, and now you can see how her lace panties match her bra. You wonder if this was all planned or a serendipitous coincidence. Arin shimmies out of her panties, then turns around, which lifts her skirt just enough to show off her ass. Arin’s ass is a sort of cryptozoological being that earns hushed whispers at the end of lectures—did you catch the crease of her cheeks when jumped to pull down the blackboard, or did you see how it jiggled when she jumped to pull the blackboard down? But here, in the bare flesh, with its goosebumps and every trajectory, a hushed whisper is too quiet for Loch Ness or Bigfoot’s more famed sight. Her ass makes your mouth water. It makes the desert water. The sun waters. If there were a shape to describe it… yet circle, then perfect, then slappable each inch ever closer to an apt description as apt as the appleness of oranges—now there’s another inch closer: Arin’s ass is juicy. Yet, you can’t even render anything above mute: porcelain skin glowing in the dim light and that pussy... that enticing wetness between her legs, glistening with arousal.

"You must be hard," she says, academic, as though stating fact off a lecture slide or textbook.

You might not graduate with any particular honors on your diploma. Where is honor or prestige and how could it be written down: you have your professor on her knees under her desk, grasping tight on your cock; this can't go in the transcript. (Magna cum loudly—that’s how. If it were not written, lest the porn titlers monopolize this for themselves.)

"You don't know the half of it," you say, and she smirks because she knows more than you, with the proof in her fingers, uncoiling you free.

Digits that hold red pens and chalk and sheaves of paper are now working their magic on your straining erection, already at full mast, but here the flag might fly further such that flagging no longer can belong to that cloth the flaps in the wind because it would not be so accurate a description. Arin watches you squirm, her eyes glinting with mischief and something else you can't quite place. Pride, maybe? As if she's always known this day would come and has been waiting for it.

You're so hard her grip doesn't even feel particularly tight, but when she looks up at you through those glasses, that impassive facade in tatters? That is the tightest leash your heart has ever worn. Her lips are a soft pink, colors you might see on her dress on occasion, and she parts them—the colors you see are a hot white flash, how did she get you down so quickly, and good lord if he were good you’d need his help to last. There is no way she’s this skilled at this unless she’s been practicing like it’s a side job. Her head bobs up and down, each movement accompanied by a moan that vibrates along your cock. She looks up at you through her glasses, more spit on them now, impassive as a hurricane. You make eye contact; it’s all you can do to avoid cumming right then and there, however paradoxical since her glare is saying all you need to hear. Don’t cum. Don’t cum or I fail you. Don’t cum or you’re punished—well, that doesn’t sound so bad.

Releasing and letting out a sharp gasp, Arin lets your erection flop into your stomach, spit-messy and begging. "Good boy. You pass."

As all she speaks, this too is a truth: you pass—into the next life—no time to process how she rips open a packet of latex with her teeth, places it into your length with her mouth, pushes you down onto the desk, one knee on either side of your thighs as she hovers over you.

"I’ve wanted this," she says, grinding against your tip, "since the first day you walked into my class."

"Oh, really, professor?" you manage to croak out, and damn it all if she doesn’t laugh, sexy and low in her throat.

"Don’t call me that right now." Arin sounds so stern saying that, stern like you've never heard her before. Then, in a smooth motion, she sinks herself down, takes all of you in one go, and moans out "fuck me" not nearly so severe. Her inner heat grips you more than the condom could hope, and her soft groans and profanity drain the office of its dry air as if it were never there. Well, the draining is less the sound, and the dry less the extant, both because of what surrounds your cock.

You hold on for dear life as Arin rides you like she's trying to break something, but with no handles to save you, nor any mercy in her movements—up, down, side to side, her black tie and open shirt flapping about—you can only grip her hips and hope to keep up. It’s nothing new for how new it is. This is just like how she treats you, how she treats the class. Just like the rumors. She’s in charge, knows what she’s doing when she has you under her—the metaphorical thumb becomes the literal body; the pretense becomes past tense—and fuck, her body.

The sounds of slapping aren’t your work (yet); that’s her thick thighs and ass smacking against your crotch, hard enough to make her pleated skirt fly wildly. Then, her adorable tits, clad in that black lace, call out to you, have you leaning your head forward in some desperate maneuver to capture them in your mouth.

"Touch me." Arin guides your hand to where she's dripping wet, where her clit throbs impatiently. She arches her back at the simplest circle your fingers can manage, and you’re feeling more at home here, less regret. You’re also palming at her breasts over cloth, and she abates her rhythm to unclasp her bra, letting you have a taste of her nipples, firm and delicious in your gentle teeth and lips. That’s another handle, her breasts a needy handful to be kneaded.

You don’t have the right to command your professor, nor the will. The closest thing to a request is how you grab her loose tie, earning a pleasured squeal, and a harder ride. Hard enough her glasses might fall off. As always, she knows you and your wishes, no need for words: nails dig into your thighs, fingers run through your hair, hands explore all over your body. The touch sends you way too close to tripping off a cliff in a car crash that ends in explosion that might fill latex to its brink, so you do end up with a command, albeit expressed physically as you grab her waist to peel her off you.

When she pouts, she truly looks more like the schoolgirl in your fantasies than the professor who has your graduation at ransom. And how is it that you're the one with any sort of leverage in this situation? Maybe you can tell by her eyelids, falling close, mouth, falling open. Whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it right. You flip her over onto her stomach, pressing her into the cool, smooth surface of her desk with a resounding thud. She whimpers, arching her back and presenting her still-slick pussy to you like an offering. But instead of sliding your cock inside right away, a recipe for disaster and early nights, something else calls out to you. Her asshole, like a forbidden fruit, beckons you to your knees, and you spread her cheeks apart, flipping her skirt up and bringing her tight entrance into full view of your face.

You start with a kiss on the pale skin. "May I? Noona?"

She giggles, no semblance of a mind in the airy noise. "Please."

Continuing with more pecks, tender and loving on her beautiful behind, some kisses along her thighs where they’re squished by thigh-highs, then you get closer and closer until your mouth is around her asshole. While you undertook this sabbatical to let your furious erection and imminent orgasm simmer down, the first taste of your tongue inside of her ass does no favors for your arousal. Tangier, saltier, and hotter than you could have imagined, Arin's tightness envelopes your tongue in a way that makes you groan, the vibration resonating through her. Her fingers grab at the edge of the desk as she moans out your name, or maybe it's "fuck" and "yes," but either way, you know you've struck gold.

You lace your fingers through her folds while you deepen your one-sided French kiss, tonguing her anal passage.

"Oh, god. Yes, right there!" she squeals between pants, rocking her hips back and forth.

As much as you'd love to continue this exquisite torment, there are other needs to attend to. Withdrawing your tongue from her ass, you see a strand of her pussy juice connecting her thigh gap. You stand up, lining up your latex-covered length with her cunt. "Ready for me, Noona?" you ask, though you already have the slick cheat sheet answer on your fingers.

As you press your hardened cock against the velvet folds of her intimacy, you position yourself to plunge into her waiting warmth. However, instead of granting that eager penetration, you ruthlessly tease her entry with the rugged tip before pulling away prematurely. As though left bereft in a hollowness only your presence could fill, she instinctively chases after your ghostly retreat. She gasps out impatient words underscored by carnal desperation, "Don’t tease me. Fuck me already!"

The sharp crack of your palm on her round ass cheek echoes in the small office. A blossom of pink blooms on her fair skin.

Bunching her cheeks apart with strong fingers, you terminate all playful actions as snug heat engulfs your cock.

Each rhythmic thrust into Arin is executed with a savage fervor that serves to claim dominion over every inch of her, to take all semblance of control. Take everything she knows and transform that knowledge into this snapshot crackling sensation that’s reducing her to sobs and groans. Fuck the unspoken implications and the quiet tension built up throughout the school year. You thrust into her like loud is the only path forward, and this path of volume is where Arin follows you. A single tug on her makeshift ponytail prompts her grip at the edge of her desk, and whimpers turn to screams, screams that might hazardously fill the hallways. When she glances over her shoulder, you can see her whole face pleasure-wracked. It takes one or two more plunges for her to surrender completely, tight contractions traveling rhythmically over your engorged cock. Trembling through spasming ecstasy, her whole body reacts, but especially her substantial thighs. Despite how tight she gets, you don’t stop pumping until she’s flowed through her entire orgasm.

After you pull out into much cooler air (the condom covered in her nectar), Arin recovers from climax with a surprising quickness, bewildered half-laughs at her own highs. "You might be my favorite student now."

Even though she says it playfully, you still take it to heart, feeling a delighted warmth in your chest. So you thank her with all sincerity.

Rising to her feet, she takes hold of your erection with a lip-bite. She leads you cockwise toward her window, looking back at you through her glasses with a smirk that steals air. One moment she looks cute, the next she’s a succubus, a natural-born seductress.

Once Arin turns around, her palms seize contact with the cool glass window, presenting herself to you for another round. As though framed by the night herself, Arin couldn't be more exposed if she tried. Although it's late at night, the possibility of someone catching sight of Professor Arin, compromised and partially clothed, lingers in your mind. These moments are when and where and how rumors are born. But you refuse to let that hold you back.

Once again, you piston into Arin, fucking her standing. The darkness turns the window into a mirror, reflecting Arin's expressions of pure bliss. Watch the tantalizing bounce of her breasts in her open shirt, the glistening beads of sweat navigating downward across her lithe abdomen, how she’s forced onto tiptoes to thrust right back into you—it’s sensory overload.

You grab each of her wrists and pull them back, getting all the leverage you can to fuck her like a ragdoll manufactured for taking all the punishment you can give, skewering her body to the windowpane with your cock. Her face and glasses push against the window with each firm thrust, and how she’s given into you, it’s time to steer off the edge.

"Gonna fucking cum," you tell her, your hips working at a fiery pace, your pulsating cock gripped over and over by her insatiable pussy.

"Yes! Yes!" At this moment, there is no professor and student, only two creatures consumed by instinct. She is nothing more than a debauched schoolgirl in her uniform (only halfway so), eagerly taking everything you give her. And you give it to her.

Withdrawing just long enough to strip off the barrier between you both, you offer yourself hand-guided satisfaction, as you reward Arin with sticky shots of cum onto her lower back, each dimple and dip soaked by pools of your load. Some of it gets onto her cropped

The two of you laugh as you both stumble back into her desk. She gets tissues and hands them to you, so you clean the evidence.

Steering yourself onto the creaking chair leather, you’re soon joined in cozy proximity by Arin who nestles comfortably into your lap, her head into your neck’s crook.

"So does that mean I get free grades, Noona?"

She slaps your arm—and that familiarity is enough to picture domestic life with her as your partner, the sort of casual delusion she engenders. "Don't even joke about that!" Arin giggles, pretty and unabashed like everything else about her.

You scoff. "That's where you draw the line?"

Displaying rare seriousness, she narrows the gap between familiar lips so close it feels like sharing a breath. "You still smell like soju, you know." Her hand moves up to your hair, taking stock of you in your ruin and bliss. "God, you're so cute. I shouldn't be doing this."

"Well, you did," you point out.

She nods, and nods, and laughs, until nothing separates lips anymore, sealing the context between professor and student, which somehow fits perfectly... like missing puzzle pieces that finally found each other, or a story that’s found its climax in this moment. The intimate tangle in her office chair goes from tongues to jaws to lower and intimate. Arin kisses the muscles of your chest, and you kiss the valley of her breasts.

"Why do you wear stuff like this?" you ask as you hold open her cropped shirt.

"Because I can," she says with all earnestness, and you believe her; it’s just as you figured.

Looking down at her thigh-highs, you tell her, "You know you look like an amateur camgirl."

"Ooh, now that’s an idea." Arin goes for your throat in literal and other ways.

As you make out with the straddling Arin, you return the favor with her own hickey, which you notice at class the next morning. You're proud of the little purple thing there on her skin, the opposite of proud of the whispers they cause. But like all things Professor Arin, these pass. And like all things Professor Arin, she winks, and you too pass.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

#oh my girl smut #kpop smut #male reader #reader insert

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