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dollgxtz · 2 months ago

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His Watchful Eye Pt.12

Word Count: 18.5k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, some smut, masturbation, mentions of breeding, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, pet names like kitten, sweetie, honey, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey, @webmvie, @housesortinghat, @fading-twinkle, @shoruio, @gojos1ut, @solomonlover, @cheesenjam, @elegantnightblaze, @mavphorias, @babylavendersblog, @burntoutfrogacademic, @sinstae, @certainduckanchor, @ladyackermanisdead, @sh4nn, @milkandstarlight, @lilyadora, @depressedwhore, @nyumin, @kiwookse, @anisha24-blog1, @weepingluminarytale, @xxhayashixx, @hesperisms, @adraxsteia

AN: This is on A03! Good news guys!! Next chapter you guys get to find out the gender of the baby!! EEE even I'm excited and I'm the one whose writing it LOL. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter even if it is a tad bit sad. As always, tysm for your comments, asks, likes, and reblogs. I try and answer as many as I can! I get so happy when I see a new one. Never in a million years did I think so many people would love my writing to this degree! Mwah <3

As he got back up, Sylus’s lips brushed against yours in a way that felt surprisingly gentle, almost reverent, as though he were savoring every second. But slowly, his kiss grew deeper, his lips pressing into yours with a hunger that caught you off guard. His hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers tracing the edge of your jaw as he whispered between each kiss, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hand gliding from your cheek to your shoulder. "So pretty with my baby growing in you, you're doing so good for me..."

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10 Pt.11 Pt.13

Sitting in the library, you flipped through the pages of a book with little interest, the bland diagrams of bird anatomy staring back at you. The book wasn't exactly captivating, but it beat staring at the wall, lost in thought. Beside you, Mephisto shifted restlessly on the armchair, feathers catching the dim light.

"Coo..." he murmured, his beady red eyes fixated on the page showing the dissection of a crow.

You chuckled softly, reaching out to pet his cold, metallic head. "Don’t worry, you’re safe. No one’s dissecting you," you assured him, laughing as he flapped his wings in what seemed to be robotic indignation. "Well…I guess you could be taken apart. Screws and metal are a bit easier to put back together than bones and sinew."

"Caw! Caw!" Mephisto protested, his wings clanking softly as they folded back to his sides. His chirps and clatters were almost comforting—a small, dependable presence in this world where your reality was controlled by someone else.

"I was kidding," you said, still laughing. "I doubt Sylus would take you apart…unless you needed repairs, of course." The name slipped out without thinking, and as it echoed in the quiet of the library, the memories hit you again. Sylus. A flash of his hand, the belt, the hot sting against your skin, the way he’d pressed you over his knee, his voice commanding you to count each one.

You grimaced, looking away from Mephisto’s gaze. That night had left marks deeper than the ones that had lingered on your skin. Afterward, he'd taken you back to bed, surprisingly gentle, almost reverent as he rubbed the soreness from your body. He’d whispered reassurances, tender words meant to soothe you, but in that moment, they had felt like salt on an open wound. You’d tried to forget, tried to dismiss it, but the ache of humiliation hadn’t faded. Instead, it had curdled into something else entirely: anger.

It wasn't a searing, uncontrollable rage, but a quiet, simmering fury that gnawed at you, coiled in your chest like a snake ready to strike. Yet, you held it in, biting your tongue, masking your resentment beneath a shield of silence. After that night, you'd slipped back into a quiet demeanor, speaking only when necessary, keeping your distance even though every step you took was still watched.

But you weren’t just simmering in silence. You were observing, studying. Because in the past few days, you’d noticed something—a small, almost imperceptible change in Sylus. Guilt. He’d been eyeing you with a tension that hadn’t been there before, a discomfort that prickled through his otherwise calm demeanor. He seemed unsettled by your silence, watching you from across the room as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

A faint smirk played at the corner of your lips as you remembered his hesitations, his barely concealed awkwardness. So he did feel guilt, didn’t he? Maybe he regretted it. Or maybe he was simply rattled by the fact that he couldn’t read you as easily now. Either way, you liked it. Liked the way he squirmed, the way he seemed to second-guess himself around you. In some twisted sense, it felt like a tiny shift in power, a thread you could pull in this tangled web he’d woven around you.

He had tried to punish you into submission, to make you feel weak, dependent. But here he was, trying to overcompensate with tender touches, soft gestures, careful words. It was almost…pathetic. And despite the bitterness that lingered, a part of you found satisfaction in watching him struggle to understand you, to keep you close while sensing that you were slipping further away.

As you sat there, flipping absentmindedly through the book, the quiet satisfaction of Sylus’s earlier disappointment still lingered in your mind. He’d been hovering around you constantly these last few days, like a shadow, reminding you of his love in every way he could. It was almost ridiculous.

He’d even asked if he could help brush your hair earlier that day, his voice soft, almost pleading. The memory of his face when you’d declined—when you’d turned back on him, shutting him out completely—filled you with a strange sense of victory. That small flash of disappointment in his eyes had been the sweetest thing you’d seen in days.

You smirked to yourself, turning another page, pretending to absorb the information, though the words meant little. It was just a diversion, something to focus on other than the reality you were stuck in. But just as you were settling into that small, rare bubble of contentment, a sharp ache twisted in your belly, breaking through your thoughts.

You winced, letting the book fall closed as your hand instinctively went to your stomach. The nausea had mostly faded over the past few days, but it left this lingering, annoying ache that wouldn’t quite let you forget the changes happening inside you. Occasionally it would rise back up, making you feel ill again.

Your body was shifting in subtle ways—your breasts felt heavier, more sensitive, and a dull tenderness lingered in your abdomen like a constant reminder. You knew it was early, far too early for anything major, but it was impossible to ignore.

Your thoughts were disrupted by the soft creak of the library door opening, and immediately, your body tensed, that momentary peace slipping away. Sylus stepped in, his presence filling the quiet room as he walked toward you, carrying a tray. You eyed him warily, your senses heightened, your guard instinctively rising as he approached. He placed the tray gently on the table in front of you, the delicate clinking of porcelain breaking the silence.

“It’s a new blend of tea,” he said, gesturing to the steaming cup. “Should help with the nausea. And I brought some cheese crackers—thought they might settle your stomach a bit.”

You glanced at the tea, the steam rising with a faint herbal scent that was slightly different from the others he’d tried. Another attempt at catering to your needs, trying to make you more comfortable, to win you over with small gestures. It irritated you, the way he kept trying, as if he could somehow ease you into this life with little acts of kindness.

Something inside you snapped, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out with a sharp edge.

“The others didn’t work, so I don’t know why you’re even bothering anymore.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he absorbed the sting of your words. For a brief moment, you saw the flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe a hint of hurt—as if he hadn’t expected you to respond so coldly. But then he sighed, letting out a slow breath, and a small, soft smile formed on his lips, his gaze settling back on you with that unyielding patience that had become all too familiar.

“I had this custom blended,” he replied, his voice calm, almost gentle. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll keep trying. I want you to be comfortable, sweetie.”

The way he said it, the soft undertone of care, twisted something uncomfortable in your chest. His eyes held that sad, pained look you’d seen lately, the one that almost made you feel…guilty. You hated that feeling, hated the way it gnawed at you, pulling at your resolve to remain distant, to shut him out completely. He looked so earnest, so willing to do whatever it took to make things easier for you, and for a split second, you questioned if you were being too harsh. Maybe…maybe you were being unfair.

But no. You quickly shoved that thought away. He was the one who had put you in this position, the one who had made it so you couldn’t leave, couldn’t live your own life. He deserved every bit of bitterness you threw his way. Still, the guilt lingered, a small, unwelcome presence in the back of your mind, and you had to fight to keep it from softening your expression.

“Fine,” you muttered, not meeting his gaze, focusing on the steam rising from the tea. “Thank you.” The words felt forced, hollow, but you forced yourself to say them, if only to keep up the fragile peace.

He studied you for a moment longer, as if weighing something unsaid, and then nodded, stepping back slightly to give you space. The sadness was still there in his eyes, that soft, wounded look that made your stomach twist, but he didn’t press any further. Instead, he simply watched you, a quiet patience in his gaze, as if waiting for something.

You took a hesitant sip of the tea, letting the warmth settle in your throat, trying to ignore the complicated mess of emotions churning inside you.

Sylus stood there, watching you, his gaze as unyielding as always, yet softer somehow, as though he were observing something precious and fragile. It unnerved you, the way he seemed to look straight through your façade, sensing the cracks in your resistance even if you tried to hide them. It felt like a silent challenge, one you were determined not to lose.

He shifted slightly, his presence filling the quiet room, making the air feel heavier. You kept your gaze fixed on the tea, willing yourself not to acknowledge him, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing the effect his nearness had on you. Yet, the guilt gnawed at you, undermining your resolve. Were you being too harsh? He had even gone as far as custom blending tea for you to feel better. He was a kidnapper...yes. But you could definitely be in worse hands right now.

Your fingers tightened around the cup as you tried to push those thoughts aside. You had a role to play, and you couldn’t let his gestures break through the wall you’d painstakingly built. But the effort was exhausting, the line between the real and the forced blurring in ways you hadn’t anticipated. A flash of that painful memory of the punishment surfaced, and you felt a surge of resentment flare up, fueling your determination to keep him at arm’s length.

The silence thickened between you, heavy and uncomfortable, as Sylus lingered in the room, his gaze unwavering. It was clear he was weighing his words, searching for something to break the tension. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost regretful.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but I had to do what I did,” he said, his voice almost too even, as if he were convincing himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. You swallowed your frustration, choosing not to respond with the words that were boiling inside you. Instead, you offered a simple, lifeless, “Okay.” Your voice was so low, it was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to convey your disappointment.

You reached for another book, hoping to immerse yourself in its pages, if only to create some distance between you and him. But Sylus wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

He took a step closer, lowering himself to his knees in front of the armchair you were sitting in. He rested his hand on your knee, stroking it gently with his thumb in a slow, rhythmic motion, as if the act alone could soothe away the resentment you felt. You didn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on the edge of the book cover, willing yourself not to let his touch affect you. But his fingers were tender, tracing small circles, almost too soft to ignore, and you could feel his gaze boring into you.

“Look at me, please,” he murmured, his hand moving to gently cup your chin. His fingers were firm, insistent, as he guided your face toward his. Your eyes met, and you felt a flush creep over your cheeks despite your best efforts to stay composed. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, the raw emotion there almost tangible. It was as if he genuinely believed that he could erase your anger with nothing more than words and a pleading look.

“I know you’re upset,” he began, his voice softer now, coaxing. “I do. But please…don’t force my hand like that again.”

The calmness in his words, the way he spoke as though the blame was somehow on you for “forcing” him, stoked a flicker of anger deep within. But instead of snapping back, you kept your expression neutral, letting the frustration settle into a sad, disappointed mask. You let out a shaky sigh, channeling your hurt, and then you forced a tremble into your voice, perfecting the mask.

“Whatever,” you murmured, your voice breaking just a little as you mustered the saddest expression you could. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy hurting me.”

The words hung in the air, cutting through his rationalizations, leaving him momentarily speechless. You saw a flicker of something—guilt, maybe, or shame—cross his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. You took that opportunity to let your eyes glisten, to let your breath hitch as though you were struggling to hold back tears.

Yes. Play the part.

And then, with a soft, broken voice, you whispered, “You shouldn’t even be hitting me...what kind of man hits his pregnant fiancée?”

The question lingered, pressing into him with a weight that seemed to ripple through his composure. His face contorted briefly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of guilt and sadness that he couldn’t mask. He opened his mouth, as if to explain himself, but closed it again, clearly shaken by the accusation, by the reminder of your condition. His thumb traced your cheek gently, his touch almost desperate to communicate something he couldn’t find words for.

You had to fight the urge to smile, to laugh in his face. This was all too easy. The leader of Onychinus was on his knees in front of you, looking like he was about to cry himself.

“Sweetie…I’m—” he faltered, the words catching in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say, for something that could undo the hurt he’d caused. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his expression softening, the guilt in his eyes unmistakable now.

“What can I do to make this right?” he asked, his voice laced with a pleading sincerity, as though he believed he could truly make up for the pain he’d inflicted. “Just tell me. I want to make it up to you. Anything.”

You forced a tremulous breath, allowing the tears to flow freely, each one feeding into his remorse. Inside, a small satisfaction bloomed, knowing you had managed to twist the moment, to pull him into your web of hurt and guilt. And though you knew this game was a dangerous one, you couldn’t deny the satisfaction it brought—the power it gave you, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Anything...what a lie. He wouldn't grant you freedom no matter how many tears you shed.

You say nothing for a moment, letting the silence stretch out between you, the hint of vulnerability in your expression carefully calculated. “There…there are two things you could do to make it up to me,” you say softly, glancing up at him. His gaze remains fixed on you, searching, waiting, and you can tell he’s hoping you won't ask for freedom again.

“The first is simple,” you continue. “You already know what I used for my skincare routine before all this, don’t you?” You try to keep your voice calm, steady. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask for a few familiar things to feel like myself. It might even help me stay calm…for the baby’s sake.” You know your words will resonate with him, his protectiveness piqued by anything that touches on your well-being, especially now that you’re carrying his child.

He nods, a slight, almost relieved smile forming. You suspect he’s ready to agree—skincare seems harmless enough, and it lets him be the provider he so desperately wants to be.

“And…there’s one other thing.” Your voice softens, and you avert your gaze, letting a hint of hesitation show. “It’s about my friend, Tara.” You pause, allowing him to see the faint trace of sadness in your eyes. “She’s probably worried sick, not knowing where I am or if I’m okay. You know I wouldn’t ask to contact…anyone else. But Tara—she’s like a sister to me. She deserves a little peace of mind.”

Sylus’s expression darkens just slightly, his eyes narrowing. But you press on, seizing the opportunity to paint this as a small, reasonable request. “One text. Just one, letting her know I’m safe,” you say softly, giving him your most genuine, pleading look. “I won’t say anything about…where I am. It’ll only be enough to put her mind at ease. That’s all.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. You can feel the tension between the lines of his face, the conflict—his instinct to protect and control clashing with the guilt and love he professes for you. You know the second request is a risk, but you hope the weight of your sincerity, your quiet, calculated sadness, might tip the scales in your favor.

“Please, Sylus,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers brushing over his hand in a gentle, almost hesitant touch. “I…I just need this small bit of reassurance. It’s for me as much as it is for her.” You offer him a faint smile, one you hope conveys your gratitude before he’s even answered.

Sylus's chuckle, low and indulgent, makes your stomach churn. The nonchalance in his eyes as he agrees to retrieve your skincare products—the smallest concession—only serves to remind you of the careful control he wields over your life now.

"The skincare can be arranged," he says with a faint smile. "I do know precisely what you used.” His gaze flickers over you, and the possessiveness in his eyes is unmistakable. “I'll get it to you by tomorrow afternoon,” he adds smoothly. "Although, I expected you to ask for something much more expensive, kitten."

His words slice through the room, making you feel small, confined. Every hint of freedom feels more and more like an illusion—fragile, granted at his whim. He’s measuring your autonomy out in teaspoons, and it’s infuriating. You don’t even trust yourself to reply, opting instead for a nod, masking the fire burning beneath your skin.

Then Sylus leans closer, his presence unnervingly steady. "As for the message," he says, a note of warning hidden under the softness, "I’ll be the one to send it. We can’t risk any misunderstandings. So, what exactly would you like it to say?"

The way he speaks, with such casual control, prickles your nerves. You resist the urge to pull away, but inside, your mind races. Could you hide something in the message to Tara? A word or phrase that might signal her to read between the lines, something only she would catch? But the calculating look in Sylus’s eyes warns you against it; he’d dissect every word, weigh every syllable. He’d see it for what it was.

No, it’s too risky. You’re left with the crushing reality of speaking plainly, voicing words that hold no hidden message, no veiled meaning. You push down the urge to cry as you choose the only thing that’s true. “Just say, ‘I love you, and I hope to see you again someday. Be safe.’”

Sylus studies you, his gaze lingering in a way that feels almost searching, and it makes your skin prickle. He’s watching you as if he can read every corner of your mind, and you feel exposed under that gaze, as though every guarded thought you’ve carefully hidden from him is laid bare.

Finally, he nods, his lips curling slightly, though there’s a hint of something unfamiliar in his expression. Regret? Sympathy? Whatever it is, it softens his features, giving him an uncharacteristic look of understanding. "Consider it done," he says quietly, his voice gentler than before. The sudden kindness feels like a trap, and you force yourself not to flinch. You need his cooperation, not his pity.

Your mind fixates on those words you gave him for Tara. They were true but so deeply lacking—lacking the message you really wanted to send, the cry for help, the reassurance that you hadn’t forgotten her, that you hadn’t stopped fighting. If you closed your eyes, you could picture her, the bright laugh, the fierce loyalty that once made you feel like you could conquer anything. Now, she has no idea you’re here. No idea you’re alive, or that your feelings are anything but willing compliance with this nightmare.

Sylus’s eyes remain on you, watching with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. He must know the weight of that message, the way you lingered on the words, and yet he says nothing more. His expression shifts back into that small smile, one that’s equally disconcerting in its familiarity.

"You’ve made your requests, sweetie. And I always keep my promises."

You nod, carefully curving your lips into a soft, appreciative smile, one you hope is convincing enough. You’ve come to understand how much he wants this—forgiveness, approval, a glimmer of genuine affection from you, even if it's earned through carefully controlled gestures and scripted apologies.

You decide to play into it, leaning in slightly, letting your fingers reach out to brush his shoulder. His gaze sharpens, and you don’t miss the faint flicker of surprise in his eyes. "I really appreciate it, Sylus," you say, keeping your voice gentle, measured. "I appreciate your apology, and…I'm sorry, too. For…you know."

The words leave a bitter taste on your tongue, but you watch him as you say them, feeling the satisfaction of seeing him visibly relax under your touch. He’s buying it. You let your fingers rest on his shoulder a moment longer, steady and light, feeling the warmth of his skin even through his shirt, and you can tell he’s holding onto this moment, savoring it like he’s finally achieved something.

Sylus’s hand comes up, covering yours where it rests on his shoulder, his touch firm yet careful, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. There’s a softness in his gaze that he’s allowing you to see, something vulnerable, almost human, and it stirs a flicker of unease in you. He looks down at you with a warmth that, for anyone else, might’ve felt comforting. But here, in this twisted captivity, it only unsettles you further.

“I’m glad,” he says softly, his voice low, steady, layered with something like relief. "You have no idea how much that means, honey."

You nod, adding just a touch of warmth to your smile, though your mind races, pushing down every impulse to recoil. This is a game, and you are still in control, holding the pieces that he doesn’t realize you’re wielding. For every moment he thinks you’re softened, for every moment he believes in your forgiveness, you gain a small advantage—a little more leverage, a little more understanding of what he needs to hear. It’s your best tool, and it will be your best weapon.

“I really do appreciate it,” you repeat, your tone gentle but with just the faintest hint of reluctance, a subtle suggestion that, while you’re willing to forgive, it’s not that easy. And, as you expect, he nods, his grip on your hand tightening as if he can feel the tentative trust in your words.

“I promise," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. “And I’m going to prove to you that things can be different. I won’t let you down.”

You simply nod again, suppressing the triumph blooming inside you as he leans down to capture your lips with his own, keeping your expression soft, sincere. He’s slipping right into your hand. And as much as he might think he’s gaining ground, the truth is clear: the longer he craves your forgiveness, the more power you hold over him.

The next few days slipped by with a tentative quietness, a calm that felt almost unnatural given everything that had come before. Sylus, perhaps out of some desire to prove his newfound leniency, had been giving you more freedom around the house. He hadn’t loosened his control entirely—Mephisto, continued to tail you wherever you went, always watching with that artificial gleam in his eye—but you felt a hint of ease in this small expansion of your world.

Sylus would come and go for his business ventures but would always be back before you went to bed. Luke or Kieran would come shackle you before you laid down. You had gotten used to the sound of Sylus coming home late, and therefore wouldn't jump when he entered the room anymore.

For the most part, you spent your days drifting through different rooms, occasionally finding a moment of peace by the pool. Sitting on its edge, you let your feet dangle in the cool water, relishing the gentle lapping at your toes. The water was refreshing, a reminder of the world outside these walls, yet every time you looked across the shimmering surface, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being in a gilded cage. The pool, the luxurious house, even Mephisto—they were beautiful distractions, seemingly crafted just so you’d feel a little more at ease.

One morning, as you sat by the pool, lost in thought, you felt the earth tilt under you. You’d leaned forward too far, distracted, and in a heartbeat, you teetered toward the water, hands flailing instinctively. But before you could feel the shock of cold water on your skin, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back from the edge.

“Careful there,” Sylus murmured, his voice close to your ear, almost too close. His grip was firm, secure, and for a brief moment, you found yourself enveloped in his warmth, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath. His touch, though stabilizing, sent a chill up your spine—a reminder of his constant presence. The effect of his nearness was disorienting, an odd blend of repulsion and reluctant comfort.

You steadied yourself, offering a polite, if somewhat forced, smile. “Thanks,” you muttered, pulling back just slightly to regain a sense of distance.

He held your gaze a moment longer, his red eyes lingering on you before he finally released his hold, still keeping close. “You’re welcome,” he said, the ghost of a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. “Be a little more aware, honey. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you…or the little one,” he added, resting a hand briefly on your shoulder, as if to underscore the sentiment.

A shiver ran down your spine at the mention of the baby, and you gave a quick nod, hoping he wouldn’t notice your discomfort.

Later that day, after you’d drifted from room to room, you found yourself drawn to the back of the property where the horse track lay. Sylus stayed close, of course, ever watchful, and despite the open space, you were aware of the subtle tension in his stance. Even with this seemingly mundane activity, you felt the weight of his concern, his subtle but constant reminder of the boundaries you couldn’t cross. Still, being around the horses provided a certain comfort. You took solace in their calm, the way they seemed indifferent to the trappings of wealth and control, caring only for the simple pleasures of grazing or being gently stroked along their necks.

Occasionally, the small colony of stray cats that Sylus fed would wander by, brushing up against your legs as if sensing you needed the comfort. You couldn’t help but smile at their easy affection, nuzzling each one and reveling in the softness of their fur. Often, you’d find yourself sitting among them, surrounded by their quiet purrs, letting their gentle presence lull you into moments of peace. Some afternoons, you even dared to nap, letting the steady rise and fall of their breaths ground you as they curled up beside you.

One day, as you reached out to pet one of the cats, something caught your eye—a small, wriggling bundle in the mouth of the one-eyed cat you’d grown fond of. It was a kitten, tiny and helpless, being carefully brought over and placed at your feet. Your heart leaped with joy, your earlier wariness momentarily forgotten.

“Sylus…I think she had a baby!” you exclaimed, unable to contain the excitement that bubbled up within you.

Sylus moved closer, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of the little creature squirming at your feet. He crouched down, reaching out a finger to gently stroke the kitten, his usually hardened features softened by an unexpected fondness.

“Honestly, I thought she was just putting on a few pounds,” he chuckled, his tone light, affectionate. He then looked up at you, his eyes holding a warmth that was both foreign and oddly comforting.

“Y’know, we’ll have our own little kitten eventually,” he murmured, glancing toward your stomach with an almost reverent look.

The comment brought you crashing back to reality, your thoughts swirling with the complexity of emotions his words had stirred up. While a part of you wanted to bask in the innocence of the moment, another part—the part that knew what was truly happening—resisted. The casual way he mentioned the life growing inside you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, left you feeling both vulnerable and trapped.

Forcing a smile, you managed to nod, hoping the mask you wore was convincing. “Yeah…I guess we will,” you replied softly, willing yourself to stay composed.

He reached out, as if to touch your belly, but his hand hovered just inches away before he drew it back, his eyes lingering on you with a quiet intensity that left your heart pounding.

The subtle tension pulled you under like a rising tide, your thoughts swirling in relief as Sylus’s hand withdrew before it could actually reach you. You felt a blend of anticipation and unease, tangled together and bubbling just beneath the surface. It was unmistakable, this tension that had grown between you—something unspoken but palpable, simmering in each shared glance and lingering moment.

The idea of sex with him was out of the question, a boundary you were clear on. Yet, weeks spent in close quarters had made his small gestures impossible to overlook: the way his gaze lingered a second too long, his hand brushed yours just a bit too tenderly, his voice softened at the edges when he spoke to you. Each moment of near contact, every stolen look, hinted at a desire to have you that he seemed barely able to keep in check.

You tried to pretend it didn’t matter, to ignore what was slowly becoming an invisible tether. But with each passing day, that denial grew harder to maintain, becoming an itch you couldn’t quite soothe, a discomfort that gnawed at you. You needed to dispel the strange energy in the room, to shift away before he could notice the flicker of discomfort creeping onto your face.

Clearing your throat, you latched onto the first topic you could think of, hoping to ground the moment in something neutral. “You know,” you began casually, gesturing toward the kittens sprawled nearby, “you might want to think about getting them fixed. Before long, you’ll be overrun.” You forced a laugh, trying to punctuate your words with a lightness that might draw the attention away from anything unspoken lingering between you.

Sylus’s lips curved into a small smile, his eyes holding a hint of amusement as he glanced at the cluster of tabbies lounging without a care in the world. He looked at you knowingly, almost as if he could sense the undercurrent in your attempt to deflect.

“I’m already on it,” he replied, nodding toward the lounging felines. “Those over there have already been fixed,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But don’t let them fool you—catching them is no easy task. Cats…they’re smarter than people give them credit for.”

You studied his face as he spoke, noticing how, in that moment, he seemed to let down some unseen guard. The lines of tension softened in his expression, and for a fleeting second, he was just a man preoccupied with the everyday quirks of stray cats and unexpected litters. It still struck you as ironic that while he allowed these cats the freedom to roam, choosing to come and go as they pleased, you were bound, kept within limits he had drawn for you.

You offered a smile, hiding the deeper thoughts swirling behind it, and nodded with feigned interest. “I can imagine. They don’t look like the type to enjoy being scooped up.”

He laughed again, the sound soft and warm, and his eyes flickered from the cats back to you. His gaze held a gentleness you weren’t accustomed to, the previous intensity mellowing into something almost… affectionate. For a moment, the energy between you softened, and you felt the tension ease, just a little.

Still, even as you tried to sink into the calm, the awareness of his control pressed back in. While these cats moved freely, you remained tethered, your own freedom confined to the borders he had drawn.

The irony stung. Here you were, expected to play the part, to act as though these were the quiet comforts of home when, in truth, you were as far from freedom as you could possibly be.

He watched you, his gaze unwavering, and when you looked up, you caught that same intense look in his eyes—the one that seemed to see straight through you. The moment stretched, a silent exchange that felt both intimate and suffocating, until finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady.

“You know, I can’t help but imagine you like this,” he said, his tone softer. “With the baby. I can’t wait to see you holding them for the first time.”

The words sent a shock through you. He’d said things like this before, of course, always circling back to the future he envisioned, to his idea of a life together. But this time, his words felt heavier, as though he was trying to pull you into his world with just his voice.

You go quiet, letting the weight of his words linger in the space between you, the silence feeling heavy, almost suffocating. But you catch yourself quickly, swallowing down the discomfort and giving him the smile he wants to see—small, perhaps a touch hesitant, but accepting. It’s a practiced look, one that says you’re trying to come to terms with the future he envisions, the family he’s insistent on building. Sylus’s gaze softens as he watches you, a flicker of satisfaction passing over his face, as if he’s found what he’s been searching for in your expression.

Then, with a surprising gentleness, he reaches up and ruffles your hair, his hand lingering in your hair longer than expected. The casual touch catches you off guard, stirring a mix of emotions you quickly push down. He’s clearly pleased, his fingers curling ever so slightly as if savoring the moment. It’s both unnerving and strangely comforting—he seems almost normal, like a man simply doting on someone he loves. But before you can react, the sharp buzz of his phone shatters the illusion.

Sylus glances at the screen, his entire demeanor shifting as he lifts it to his ear, his voice cool and businesslike. “Mhm. Understood. Rest up,” he says briskly, then lowers the phone, his eyes flicking back to you with a sigh.

“Looks like the chef called in sick,” he says, his serious expression melting into a wry grin. “Seems we’re on our own for dinner tonight, kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, folding your arms as you try to stifle a laugh as you follow him from the back and into the kitchen. Its nothing short of your expectations. Luxurious, large and stocked with every appliance one could think of using when making meals.

Glossy white marble countertops, streaked with subtle veins of gray, stretch across expansive islands and counters, catching the light from oversized pendant lamps hanging from above. Each light fixture is a custom piece, gleaming softly like jewelry against the sleek cabinetry.

Cabinets, painted a deep, sophisticated charcoal, line the walls from floor to ceiling, their polished brass handles catching glints of light. A double-door refrigerator with a matte stainless-steel finish stands beside a wine cooler and a large, commercial-grade range with six burners and a griddle. Above the range, an ornate, custom range hood extends up to the ceiling, adorned with decorative trim that gives it the look of an art installation.

In the center, a large marble island offers a second sink and ample prep space, surrounded by plush, high-backed bar stools upholstered in soft, gray velvet. The island’s edges are illuminated by under-cabinet lighting, creating a warm glow that makes the polished marble shine even more.

A walk-in pantry with frosted glass doors is tucked away near the far side, while a small but luxurious coffee bar complete with an espresso machine and built-in grinder shine on its surface.

You'd never seen a kitchen as luxurious as this and you're almost at a loss for words.

“Oh, so does that mean you’ll be cooking?” you tease, pretending to eye him with skepticism.

He raises an eyebrow in response, clearly entertained by your challenge. “Don’t look so doubtful. I’m more than capable of whipping up a meal.” His smirk broadens, a glint of mischief in his gaze.

You can’t help but play along, an idea forming in the back of your mind. “Well, I suppose we’ll see. Do we have ingredients for chicken soup?” you ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Chicken soup?” he repeats, looking amused. “So simple. Are you having cravings already?” He chuckles softly, as if the thought brings him a kind of joy, and for a moment, the tension between you both seems to ease.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of unexpected warmth in your chest, despite yourself. “It’s not that,” you say, forcing a light tone. “It’s just…my mom used to make it for me whenever I was sick. You know, one of those little comforts from home.”

Sylus makes a sound of acknowledgment, clearly pleased, and moves to the fridge, pulling out ingredients with a kind of confidence that surprises you. He sets a small pile of vegetables, herbs, and chicken on the counter, glancing over his shoulder with a playful challenge.

He nods thoughtfully, studying you with an intensity that makes you look away, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I think we have everything,” he says finally, going back over to the fridge and pulling out a few large containers of chicken broth, setting them on the counter with practiced care.

As he starts prepping, a thought crosses your mind. You know he craves this—normalcy, a sense of domesticity with you—and an idea takes hold. “Do you need help?” you ask, your voice soft, as though you’re hesitant, like this is something you’re warming up to. You can almost feel the excitement radiating off him as he glances up, his gaze softening further. He hands you a cutting board and some carrots, guiding you with a gentle but steady hand.

“Of course,” he says warmly. “I’d like that”, his voice genuine, as if this simple act of cooking together is all he’s been waiting for.

You focus on slicing the carrots, keeping your expression neutral, hiding the mix of emotions stirring within you. There’s a strange satisfaction in this, playing along with his fantasy, leaning into the role he so desperately wants you to fill. It’s a small game of control, one that lets you feel as if you’re guiding his emotions, that you have the upper hand in some way.

As you work side by side, you notice the quietness that falls between you both. He’s absorbed in his task, his movements focused and practiced. It’s strange, seeing him in this light, like a regular person preparing dinner. You catch him glancing at you now and then, a softness in his gaze, as if this scene holds something precious for him.

You feel a strange mix of relief and trepidation as you move beside him, trying to focus on the simple, rhythmic actions of chopping vegetables, feeling his presence close but silent, as if he, too, is trying to take in this unexpected moment. You settle into the process, carefully slicing carrots as you think back to the countless times you’ve made this soup before, that comforting aroma filling the kitchen, the memory of your mother’s gentle hands guiding yours through the motions.

But just as you fall into the rhythm, a sharp sting jerks you out of your thoughts. You glance down, seeing the thin line of red blossoming on your finger where the knife slipped.

“Ah,” you hiss quietly, pulling your hand back instinctively.

The sound catches Sylus’s attention immediately, and he’s springing to action in an instant, his fingers wrapping around your wrist before you can react. His grip is firm, almost protective, as he pulls your hand closer, inspecting the small wound. “Let me see,” he murmurs, his voice low, and there’s an edge of concern in his tone that makes your heart skip.

“It’s nothing, really,” you say quickly, trying to brush it off, but he doesn’t release his hold. He keeps his gaze fixed on the cut, his jaw tight. Then, to your surprise, he lifts your hand, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before he leans forward, bringing your bloodied finger to his mouth.

Your breath catches, and a sharp heat floods through you as his lips press around the tip of your finger, the warmth of his mouth searing against your skin. The sensation is foreign, overwhelming—something that tugs at a deep, visceral part of you that you didn’t know was there. His tongue brushes over the cut, gentle but deliberate, sending a shiver up your spine as he holds your gaze, his eyes dark and focused.

You can feel your pulse racing, your face growing warm, and your thoughts scatter, leaving you with only the sensation of his mouth on your skin, his hand steady around yours. “W-What are you…” you manage, but your voice comes out barely a whisper.

He pulls back, his expression a mix of smug amusement and something unreadable. “Relax,” he says softly, as if sensing your reaction. “Just making sure it’s clean. Can’t have you getting an infection.”

You’re left momentarily speechless, caught between anger and something dangerously close to longing. You pull your hand back, clutching it to your chest as if to protect yourself from the lingering warmth of his touch. It’s just a shallow cut, you remind yourself, trying to ground yourself in the present, to shake off the spell he cast with that simple, unsettlingly intimate act.

But he’s still watching you, a small smirk playing on his lips as he reaches for a first aid kit from a nearby drawer. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teases, and though his words are light, there’s a glint of satisfaction in his gaze, as if he’s pleased with himself for getting under your skin.

You feel a surge of irritation, mixed with something you can’t quite identify, as you sit down on a stool, your face still warm. “Just…just don’t do that again,” you mutter, unable to meet his eyes as you try to regain your composure. You can feel his eyes on you, his gaze heavy, almost probing, but you refuse to look up, focusing on the sting of the bandage he wraps around your finger instead.

“All right, kitten,” he says quietly, his voice softer now, and you can sense a hint of genuine concern beneath his teasing tone. He finishes wrapping the bandage, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he pulls back, giving you space.

The room feels strangely charged, each movement laden with a tension that wasn’t there before. You glance down at your bandaged finger, the pulse of heat still lingering, and as you return to your place beside him, you find it harder than ever to pretend that his presence doesn’t affect you.

Focusing back on the vegetables, the silence stretches between you and Sylus once more, thick with the lingering tension from his unexpected tenderness over your cut. You reach for the celery, forcing yourself to focus, to forget the strange heat that his touch left on your skin. Sylus picks up a wooden spoon, stirring the pot of simmering broth in measured, careful movements. The kitchen fills with the warm aroma of vegetables and chicken stock, a comforting scent that feels like a foreign softness in the middle of everything.

You turn to chop more carrots, sneaking glances at him out of the corner of your eye. Sylus works with a quiet focus, his hands moving deftly as he adds in herbs—thyme, rosemary, a bay leaf—all carefully chosen to infuse the soup with warmth and flavor. You’re mildly impressed, watching him as he handles the ingredients with ease, as if cooking a simple chicken soup were second nature to him.

“So, what next?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light, as though you hadn’t just felt your heart racing minutes ago.

“Let’s get the chicken in,” he replies, his voice smooth as he gestures to the bowl of shredded chicken. “Then, we’ll let everything simmer together. Low and slow—no shortcuts.”

You pick up a spoon, gently stirring in the chicken, careful to incorporate it with the vegetables and broth. You watch the pieces swirl in the liquid, the broth turning a deeper golden as it absorbs the flavor. The quiet of the moment lets you drift, lulled by the comforting warmth rising from the stove.

“Keep stirring,” he murmurs beside you, his voice low, yet calm. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, steadying you as you stand beside him, and his presence radiates a calmness that feels almost strange. The heat of the kitchen, the weight of his hand, it all leaves you feeling slightly off-balance.

As you continue to stir, you can’t help but let out a small sigh, the scent of the soup bringing memories flooding back—nights when your mom would make soup, humming softly to herself as she worked, the warmth filling the kitchen as you watched her move around. You close your eyes briefly, trying to savor the familiarity of it, the sense of home it brings, even if just for a moment.

You miss her. Before everything happened all those years ago.

When you open your eyes, Sylus is looking at you, his expression softened. “Thinking about something?” he asks, his voice gentle, almost curious.

You nod, hesitating. “Just…a memory,” you say softly, not wanting to share too much, but feeling a strange pull to let him see this small piece of you. What would explaining do anyway? Knowing him he probably knew all about your family.

“Of course,” he says, his tone understanding, and his hand falls away from your shoulder. “Let’s finish this up, then. You’ll get to taste it soon.”

He leans over, reaching for a sprig of parsley, and his shoulder brushes against yours. The touch sends a spark through you, one you try to ignore as he drops the herb into the soup. You watch the parsley swirl, each piece turning a vibrant green against the rich broth, and Sylus gives the pot one last, slow stir.

After a few more minutes of simmering, he dips a spoon into the soup, tasting it thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concentration. He tilts his head, considering the flavor, before nodding in approval.

“Try it,” he says, offering you the spoon. His eyes are intent on you, watching for your reaction, as if he’s waiting to see if this small gesture will please you.

You take the spoon, tasting the soup. The broth is rich and comforting, each flavor melding together in a way that surprises you. The herbs, the chicken, the vegetables—they all work together to create something warm, soothing. You feel a rush of unexpected gratitude, a softness you hadn’t prepared for.

Not quite like your moms, but overwhelmingly delicious.

“It’s…good,” you say, unable to hide the small, genuine smile that crosses your face.

Sylus smiles back, his expression softening as he watches you. “I’m glad you like it,” he says quietly, his voice laced with an almost tender pride. For a moment, everything feels surreal, as if this is all part of a different reality—one where you aren’t trapped, one where this is just a simple, shared meal between two people finding comfort in each other’s company.

“Let’s serve it,” he says finally, breaking the silence. He ladles the soup into bowls, each one filled to the brim with steaming broth, the colors vibrant and inviting.

You carry your bowl to the living room table, settling down beside him on the couch. For the first time in a while, you feel a genuine sense of warmth as you both start to eat, the flavors filling the silence between you in a way that words can’t. It’s strange, this fleeting moment of peace, of almost normalcy. You savor it, even as you remind yourself not to get too comfortable.

You take another slow bite of the soup, savoring the comforting warmth and letting it settle over you. It’s surprisingly good, and for a moment, you’re tempted to get lost in the simple pleasure of a warm meal. You glance over at Sylus, who’s watching you with a soft expression, looking far more at ease than he usually does. There’s a gentleness in his gaze, an almost tender quality that contrasts sharply with the hardened exterior you’ve grown used to at times.

Taking the opportunity to lighten the mood further, you decide to test the waters. “So,” you say, a teasing note in your voice, “am I going to be cooking dinner every night with a baby on my hip? Is that what you’re planning?”

Sylus’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he sets his bowl down and leans back slightly, looking at you with genuine warmth. He chuckles, clearly entertained by the thought. “No, kitten,” he murmurs, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. "Not even close.”

A little surprised, you raise an eyebrow. “Wait, really?”

“Why would I ever want you to take on any of that?” he says with a soft laugh, his expression affectionate as he looks at you. “Why should you waste your energy cooking and cleaning, especially with everything else going on? We have people here to help with those things.”

You blink, a bit taken aback by his answer. He says it with such sincerity, as if the notion of you doing any kind of work around the house is ridiculous. It’s almost hard to believe, this view he seems to have of you—not just as someone to take care of, but as someone he wants to shield from any kind of hardship or responsibility. He’s looking at you with something deeper than affection. It's almost as if he’s envisioning a life where your only focus is happiness and peace.

“So…” you say, letting the thought linger, “if I’m not cooking or cleaning, what exactly am I supposed to do?”

He leans forward, his eyes never leaving yours, and brushes a strand of hair back behind your ear, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. “I just want you to be happy. Be the mother to our child, be here with me,” he says softly, his voice thick with warmth. “And everything else? Let me worry about that. All I need is for you to never leave and stay with me. You’ve already given me so much.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that catches you off guard, a rawness in the way he looks at you that goes beyond mere attraction. You’d half expected him to laugh off your question, but his answer is so direct, so heartfelt, that it leaves you momentarily speechless. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the quiet reverence in his eyes, as if he’s seeing every part of you and cherishing it.

"So have your baby and...be happy?"

He nods, picking up the glass of wine he's been sipping on to accompany his dinner. "And be as cute as you already are. So far, you're doing a flawless job, honey".

You manage a soft smile, trying to mask the complexity of emotions swirling inside you. His words are both reassuring and overwhelming in their intensity, a reminder of how deeply he’s bound you into this vision of a life together. There’s relief in knowing that he doesn’t see you as just a homemaker but rather as someone he truly values. And yet, that value comes with expectations, responsibilities that feel no less heavy despite the tender way he presents them.

“Wow,” you murmur, keeping your voice light to mask the turmoil within. “Sounds like a dream job.”

Sylus smiles at you, a look of profound satisfaction in his eyes as he reaches over, lightly squeezing your hand. “It’s not a job, sweetheart. It’s a life, a future. One we’re building together.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, you feel the full weight of his sincerity, a devotion that’s almost overwhelming.

The warmth of his hand, the steadiness of his gaze—it’s as if he’s pouring every bit of his affection into this moment, giving you a glimpse of the life he’s crafted in his mind. You glance down, your fingers tightening around the spoon as you take another sip of soup, using it as a shield to give yourself a moment to breathe, to process everything he’s just said. You know you’re still treading a thin line, but in this moment, you can almost believe that you’re safe, that he won’t ask for more than you can give.

For now, you’ll let him hold onto this vision, this gentle world he’s trying to build around you, while you keep the part of yourself that’s planning for a different future carefully tucked away.

You glance over at Sylus’s glass, the amber liquid catching the light in a way that makes it look particularly inviting. The warmth of the room, the gentle clinking of cutlery, and the surprisingly cozy vibe of the evening—it all feels surreal. Before you know it, the words slip out, half-joking but with a tinge of genuine longing.

“That wine…I bet that would taste amazing right about now,” you murmur, giving him a sly look. You know he’d never let you drink while you’re pregnant, but there’s a boldness bubbling up inside you, a playfulness that feels oddly freeing. You figure you might as well test the waters while you’re both in a relaxed mood.

Sylus pauses, the glass halfway to his lips, and raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. A chuckle escapes him, low and warm, and he shakes his head. “Nice try, sweetie,” he says, his tone filled with affection. “But you know better than that.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning back in your seat with a mock pout. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

His laughter deepens, a rich, genuine sound that resonates through the room. He takes another sip, savoring it slowly, almost as if to tease you with it. “Tell you what,” he says, setting the glass down with a quiet clink, his eyes meeting yours. “Once the little one arrives, I’ll have a whole case of the finest wine waiting for you. Consider it a gift for giving me my first child. Something truly extravagant.”

You can’t help but let a small smile tug at your lips. “You mean it?” There’s a flicker of surprise in your voice, mixed with a touch of excitement at the thought of a small indulgence waiting for you on the other side of this. Not that it would matter. You didn't plan to wait around long enough for this gift.

“Absolutely,” he says, his expression softening. “Only the best for you.”

The way he says it makes you feel as though he’s not just talking about the wine, and for a moment, the intensity in his gaze is enough to make you forget where you are, who he is, and why you’re here. It’s both comforting and unsettling, this unexpected tenderness.

You look away, letting your fingers toy idly with your spoon. “I look forward to it then,” you reply softly, the weight of his words lingering in the space between you.

The warmth of the room and the low hum of the TV slowly lulled you into a comfortable haze, the day’s events blending into the soft murmur of the late-night talk show on the screen. Before you realized it, your eyelids grew heavy, and the world around you blurred and faded into sleep.

When you stir awake, it’s just for a moment—a brief awareness of being lifted, cradled against Sylus’s chest. His arms are steady as he carries you, his steps measured and gentle, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the peace you’ve drifted into. You’re too tired to care, and the gesture isn’t exactly new, so you let your head rest against him, slipping back into that comfortable in-between state of semi-consciousness.

As he reaches the room and places you on the bed, you feel the familiar cool metal of the shackle as he carefully clasps it around your ankle. There’s a strange mix of acceptance and resignation that settles over you; it’s routine by now, and you’ve learned that resistance will get you nowhere. You don’t stir, barely opening your eyes as you feel the slight weight and coldness against your skin.

Sylus’s hand lingers just a moment longer than it should, his fingers brushing your ankle lightly as if apologizing without words. Then he straightens, watching you as though ensuring you’re comfortable, or perhaps just reluctant to leave. The silence stretches for a beat before he adjusts the blanket over you, tucking it in gently.

Drifting back to sleep, you feel the faintest, fleeting touch of his hand on your hair, his voice a low, barely audible murmur. “Goodnight, sweetie.” And then he’s gone, leaving you in the silence, shackled and resting, your heart and mind caught in that strange place between comfort and captivity.

A chill snakes up your spine, a subtle pull dragging you from sleep’s warm grasp. Something’s wrong. You stir, confused, only half-awake when a voice—a low, familiar, male voice cuts through the haze.

“Hey…it’s kinda cold. Could you let go of the blanket a little?”

Sylus? No...not Sylus.

The familiarity of it pulls you fully awake, and you snap your eyes open, blinking at the darkness. But then, as your vision sharpens, you see him. Reese. He’s lying beside you, facing you on the bed, his face turned just enough for you to catch the black, oozing gunshot wound in his head, gaping open and slick with blood. A trickle of it slides down his cheek, soaking the sheets under him, dark and thick.

Your body freezes, a scream clawing at your throat, but no sound comes out. Your breath is trapped, the air around you thick and cold, chilling you from the inside out. How is this possible? He’s dead—he’s dead, but here he is, lying next to you, close enough to reach out and touch.

“What’s with the face?” His voice is casual, irritated. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s cold.”

You shake your head weakly, trying to focus, to convince yourself this isn’t real. But his face—the wound, the blood—is horribly vivid, every detail clear. You close your eyes, muttering to yourself, “Y-you’re not real…you’re not real…” as if repeating it will somehow pull you out of this nightmare.

Reese laughs, a low, mocking sound that makes your blood run colder. “Not real?” His tone is twisted, bitter. “First, you can’t take responsibility for your actions, and now I’m just…what? A figment of your imagination?”

You can barely hold his gaze, the look in his eyes dark and hollow, yet piercing, accusatory. You’re rooted to the bed, every muscle locked, your body paralyzed as his words sink in, hitting deeper than you’d like to admit. You want to move, to pull away, but you’re pinned, helpless under the weight of his presence.

“Do I matter so little to you?” he asks, voice rising in anger, his tone laced with a venom that sends a new wave of terror coursing through you. He leans closer, blood oozing from his wound, seeping down to your skin. Warm, sticky drops spatter across your cheek, and you can feel them trailing down, clinging to your skin like a brand.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice filled with rage. “Did I deserve that end? Was I so bad?”

You try to shake your head, to deny it, but the words stick in your throat, the fear, the shock smothering you. All you manage is a strangled gasp, your eyes wide and desperate as he stares you down, inching closer, his face twisted with fury, with a pain that cuts straight through you.

“I wasn’t a bad guy,” he whispers, his tone shifting, softer, but somehow worse—a wounded, broken sound that cuts deeper than the anger. “I just had…problems. But now...I'm dead. And its all your fault.”

The blood continues to flow, more of it now, as if the wound has deepened, spilling down his face, soaking into the sheets, covering the bed, drenching everything. You can feel it spreading, thick and suffocating, seeping into your skin, binding you in place. It’s pulling you down, drowning you in the darkness, and all you can do is lie there, trapped, helpless, as Reese’s voice echoes around you.

You want to scream, to claw your way out, to breathe—but there’s only the blood, the suffocating weight, the feeling of it pulling you deeper, filling your lungs. You’re sinking, slipping into darkness, your vision blurring as his words fade, replaced by silence.

You jolt awake, eyes flying open, heart racing as you lie there, paralyzed in the dark. The weight of the nightmare still clings to you, thick and suffocating, every inch of your skin damp with sweat. Reese’s voice, his blood-smeared face, feels too close, too real. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the image to fade, to dissolve back into the shadows where it belongs. Just a dream, you remind yourself, swallowing hard. It was just a dream.

Beside you, Sylus stirs. He must have fallen asleep only recently; he’s been on edge these past days, slipping into quick naps whenever he can. His arm rests lightly over you, and you feel it tighten as you shift slightly, trying to push away the fear that lingers like a shadow.

“You’re a little damp,” his voice murmurs softly, his hand moving to your shoulder, steadying you. His eyes open, just a glimmer in the darkness, and they narrow slightly as he takes in your expression, the remnants of fear etched into your features. “Too hot?” he asks, his voice low and concerned.

You barely manage a nod, still shaken. His eyes soften, and his thumb begins tracing slow, soothing circles on your shoulder. His presence, the gentle rhythm of his touch, begins to pull you back from the brink of the nightmare, grounding you.

“Bad dream again?” he whispers, a touch of worry slipping through.

You swallow, nodding as your voice comes out in a whisper, raw and unsteady. “It’s…I’m okay. Just…him again.”

For a moment, the words hang heavy between you. You hadn’t planned on confiding in him, on letting him see even a fraction of the fear that holds you captive. But in the quiet of the dark room, he’s the only thing grounding you, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder, his gaze steady.

Sylus doesn’t push you, doesn’t press for details. Instead, he offers a quiet reassurance, his voice almost a murmur. “You’re safe,” he says, the words warm and soothing. “Whatever you’re seeing… it’s in the past. I won't let that happen to you again.”

You feel the weight of his words settle over you, anchoring you as the last shreds of the nightmare begin to slip away. You don’t pull away, instead letting his calm presence ease the terror that had gripped you moments before. His hand stays on your shoulder, offering a comfort you hadn’t expected but don’t reject, not now.

Breathing slowly, you finally let your body relax, the familiar fear fading.

Sylus’s voice was gentle, almost coaxing, as he reminded you, “You know you can always talk to me if you need to. I’m here.” His eyes held that soft patience, as if he were waiting for you to finally accept his care. But he didn’t push further. You simply nodded, giving a small, hollow smile. “I think I’ll take a shower,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He nodded, pulling back, watching you slip toward the bathroom as the chain around your ankle rattled softly against the floor. The instant you disappear into the bathroom, you exhaled, bracing yourself against the sink for a moment as the weight of everything washed over you. Stripping off your clothes, you stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over you as though it could erase the turmoil inside.

The warmth of the spray brought you a brief sense of calm, a moment of escape as you let the tension in your muscles release. You closed your eyes, letting the water course down your skin, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare and the reality you were stuck in. It was easy, at least for a few minutes, to let your mind drift, to imagine yourself somewhere else entirely.

As you dried off, wrapping yourself in a towel, a sharp, unexpected pain twisted low in your abdomen. You clutched your stomach, wincing as the ache pulsed for a moment before ebbing away. When you looked up, your reflection in the tall mirror across the room caught your eye. There, your gaze drifted to something you’d been avoiding for weeks—a slight but undeniable curve, a small but visible bump.

Your heart skipped a beat, panic clawing at you. No, no… this isn’t happening. You weren't showing yesterday...no way you grew overnight? Right?

Turning to the side, you ran your hand over the curve, hoping it would somehow disappear, that maybe this was some strange trick of the light, an illusion cast by the shadows in the dim bathroom. But it was real—solid and unyielding under your touch, a soft, foreign shape that hadn’t been there before. The life growing inside you, forced upon you in this gilded cage. There was no more pretending, no more denial. The truth stared back at you, a relentless reminder of everything you’d tried to escape.

Your mind raced, spiraling with thoughts, each one sharper than the last. What am I going to do? The question echoed in your mind, louder and louder. How could you bring a child into this world, trapped here, bound to a man who held you against your will? How could you even begin to reconcile the love that was expected of you with the resentment boiling beneath the surface?

And yet…

Somewhere, buried beneath the panic, there was a flicker of something else. A faint, fleeting thought that this was your child—a part of you, something innocent and pure, untainted by the cruelty of its father. But that thought vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, smothered by the reality of your situation.

No. Its a monster put here by a monster. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Suddenly, Sylus’s voice broke through the haze, calling to you from beyond the bathroom opening. You stiffened, panic flooding your veins anew. He can’t see this. Not yet.

A wave of panic surged, and you scrambled to snatch your shirt from the counter, clutching it desperately against your chest as his figure appeared, and he stepped inside. His gaze fell on you, his brow furrowing slightly with concern as he took you in, standing there, exposed, your knuckles tight against the shirt you were pressing tightly against yourself.

He took a step forward, concern etched in his face. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine—please, Sylus, just…leave,” you replied, willing your voice to stay steady, hoping he would listen.

But his gaze softened as he searched your face, clearly noticing the quickening in your breath, the apprehension in your eyes. Without a word, he reached for the shirt you held, and despite your best efforts, his grip was gentle but unyielding as he eased it from your hands.

"I've already seen you naked sweetie, many times. You don't need to be shy".

You felt frozen, helpless to stop him as he lifted the shirt away, exposing the small curve that had been hidden beneath.

Sylus’s breath seemed to catch, his eyes widening in awe as he took in the sight of your small but undeniable bump. For a moment, he was silent, his gaze tracing the curve of your stomach with a mixture of astonishment and tenderness. Then, as if unable to contain himself, a radiant smile broke across his face, one of unrestrained joy, his eyes brightening in a way you’d never seen before.

“This…this is what you were hiding?” His voice was a soft, reverent whisper, and he knelt down, his hand reaching out to gently, reverently, rest on the slight swell. He looked up at you, eyes shining with an emotion so raw, so overwhelming, it left you speechless.

“Sweetie…you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin, tracing the gentle curve as though it were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

Before you could pull away, he leaned forward, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your stomach. His breath was warm against your skin, and the intimacy of the moment struck you to your core. Your heart pounded in your chest, revulsion and disbelief twisting in your stomach as he closed his eyes, his touch so tender it was almost unbearable.

Sylus’s gaze flickered up to meet yours, filled with love, wonder, and a kind of vulnerability you hadn’t expected. For a moment, he seemed lost in the moment, lost in the reality that the life he’d longed for was now beginning to take shape. He brushed a gentle hand over your bump, his fingers tracing a slow, reverent path.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hand gliding from your cheek to your shoulder. "So pretty with my baby growing in you, you're doing so good for me..."

His words fell like honey, each phrase laced with something warm and heavy. The praise mixed with the gentle intensity of his gaze, and for a moment, you felt a strange, almost dizzying sensation, as if his tenderness was pulling you into a world where you could forget the truth—just for a second.

But the kiss was no longer soft. He leaned in, pressing you against the wall, his hands slipping down to your waist, holding you close. There was a tension between you, a heat radiating from his touch as he let his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, each kiss leaving a lingering warmth on your skin. He was so close, his hand pressing gently but possessively against the small of your back, his closeness overwhelming. You could feel his breath against your neck, the rapid beating of his heart as he leaned closer still.

He pressed up further against you, and you could feel the hardening of his cock as his hands continued roaming your naked body. Panic surged within you, the walls closing in as you felt him drawing you deeper into his embrace. You weren’t ready. Not for this. The kisses, the closeness, the feeling of his hands anchoring you to him—it was all too much.

You took a shaky breath, willing your voice to remain steady. “Sylus… please,” you whispered, your hand pressing against his chest, urging a little distance. “I’m sorry…I’m just…I’m not ready.”

For a split second, the air stilled. You didn’t dare look up, bracing yourself, fearing a flash of anger or the sting of his disapproval. But slowly, his hands softened their grip, loosening from your waist. You could feel him shift, the intensity of his touch retreating as he pulled back slightly. Hesitantly, you looked up, expecting frustration or perhaps that coldness you’d seen before.

Instead, his gaze met yours, warm and filled with a softness that was entirely unexpected. He swallowed, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he took a steadying breath, as if calming himself. “I understand,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the warmth in it resonated deeply, cutting through the tension. “This is a lot for you to take in. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

You blinked, your heart racing as his words settled over you. He wasn’t angry. There was no frustration in his expression—only a look of genuine concern and, to your astonishment, regret. He wasn't going to force you like he had before. He had let you go.

“Thank you,” you managed, the words quiet, almost lost in the air between you. For a moment, you struggled to process what had just happened. Sylus, who had always taken so much from you without question, had actually listened. He’d stopped. You’d steeled yourself for resistance, for anger, for some form of reminder of his control over you. Yet here he was, stepping back, respecting your boundaries with a tenderness that left you momentarily speechless.

As you looked at him, you felt an odd mix of emotions. Relief washed over you, but something else lingered too—something more unsettling, a tiny flicker of doubt that questioned everything. It was the way he looked at you, as if there were truly nothing he wouldn’t do for you, even if it meant pulling himself back.

Sylus’s gaze softened as he took a step back, releasing you from his embrace but keeping his hand on your shoulder for just a moment longer. His thumb brushed gently over your collarbone, lingering, as if reluctant to let go completely.

“Do you want any help getting dressed?” he asked, his tone tender, almost coaxing. His eyes held a gentleness you were still getting used to, as though he was allowing himself to be vulnerable for once, hoping you’d let him in, even if just for a moment longer.

You shook your head quickly, a polite smile crossing your face. “No, it’s okay. I can manage.” Your voice came out steadier than you felt, and you could see the hint of disappointment that flickered in his gaze before he quickly masked it with a soft smile of his own.

You wondered why he craved so much for you to depend on him for every little thing. You couldn't understand.

“All right,” he murmured, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

With a graceful, deliberate movement, he knelt and reached for the chain at your ankle. Its weight shifted as he seemed to inspect it. You couldn’t help but notice the rust forming on its edges, the faint orange stain a quiet reminder of each time it had endured the showers with you, silently marking the limits of your freedom. He noticed it too, pausing for a second as he looked at the worn chain.

“Hmm,” he murmured, running his thumb along the rusted edge with a look of quiet contemplation. For a moment, you thought he might undo it, but instead, he straightened up, the faintest frown creasing his brow.

He looked back at you, his expression softening again. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he said, his voice a gentle promise.

As he turned and left, you found yourself exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The weight of his presence lifted, leaving you alone with the faint memory of his touch still lingering on your skin.

The room seemed to expand in his absence, and you allowed yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. The sight of the rusted chain resting limply at your foot reminded you that, despite his tenderness, despite these fleeting glimpses of something softer, you were still his captive. Yet a strange sense of relief washed over you. Today, he’d listened. Today, he’d let you keep that sliver of control. And for now, you’d hold on to that.

As you stood there, something inside you unraveled, a delicate thread finally snapping under the weight of it all. The reflection in the mirror blurred, and you didn’t even notice the tears until you felt the warmth trailing down your cheeks. They fell silently, each one a reminder of the future that was no longer an abstract concept. A mother...you were going to be a mom. This was real.

The thought settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You tried to steady your breathing, doing small calculations in your head, desperately seeking some reassurance. By now, you must be past twelve weeks, right? Past that critical point where things were supposed to feel safer, more certain. But the slight swell of your belly seemed too prominent, too soon, and the thought gnawed at you. Would this baby be huge? Were you somehow different? You didn’t know, and the not-knowing scared you.

With each breath, reality closed in, no longer letting you keep it at a comfortable distance. There would be no waking up from this, no shaking it off like a bad dream. This was happening, and the tiny life growing inside you was proof of that. You closed your eyes, pressing a hand to your stomach, the warmth of your palm grounding you, if only for a moment.

In his office, Sylus leaned back in his chair, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. The image of you lingered in his mind, your face still etched with surprise and maybe even a glimmer of acceptance. He’d seen it when you touched your belly, the soft, instinctual motion you likely didn’t even realize you’d made.

It struck him how profoundly this all had changed, not only for you but for himself. For the longest time, he’d moved through life with an efficient, calculated purpose, relationships and alliances mere tools in the larger picture. But with you, he found himself moving beyond that cold, strategic calculation. His gaze softened just remembering the way you’d looked at him, hesitant yet trying to keep up a facade, an echo of something fragile and new.

The hum of his phone jolted him from his thoughts, a message notification flashing across the screen. It was from Dr. Merrill, a routine check-in that he’d been insisting upon ever since he’d learned about your protocore syndrome. Sylus’s gaze darkened slightly as he thought back to his conversation with the doctor. There were, of course, risks. But he’d come this far—he would ensure both you and the child would be fine.

In the next coming weeks, you would both find out the gender. And he couldn't be more excited. He hadn't given the gender a whole lot of thought, as having either a son or a daughter would be fine. As long as they were healthy. He wondered if you were hoping for a specific gender? He would have to ask later once you were feeling more comfortable.

He quickly messaged the doctor back, instructing him to be prepared for another home visit in the coming weeks, as you were beginning to show.

Setting the phone aside, he let out a long breath, allowing himself to sink deeper into his thoughts. The joy he’d felt when he first saw the hint of your growing belly was overwhelming, almost surreal. It was rare, feeling anything so strong. He’d been raised to value control and precision, but with you, things were different. For once, he felt like he had a purpose beyond the plans and schemes that had once driven him.

You were wary, he knew. Never mind the fact that you were still pretending to cater to him and accept your situation. He had to admit, you were keeping this up far better than he expected. Even going as far to fake a few tears to get things out of him. How silly of you. You didn't need to cry to get him to buy you things. He was more than willing. He hoped overtime you would come to actually learn this and fall into your role by his side. But he didn’t expect this to be easy, he would be patient, careful not to push you too far. Especially after his hasty decision to punish you the way he did.

As he leaned back in his chair, Sylus’s gaze drifted out the window. His mind wandered to the future he saw unfolding: you, content by his side, his child safe and thriving, the three of you a family in every sense.

Sylus’s thoughts drifted, lingering on the changes he’d already started to notice in your body, subtle yet unmistakable. Your nipples had gotten slightly darker than their usual color. The gentle swell of your belly was the most obvious sign, but there were others—small, delicate shifts that only someone as attuned to you as he was could see. He thought of the way your figure had softened, the fullness in your curves that hadn’t been there before. He'd felt it during the past few weeks, during moments when he'd held you close, his hand resting against your back or your waist, anchoring you to him.

There was a warmth that spread through him as he thought about it, a kind of reverence for the life growing within you. He’d noticed your breasts, too—firmer, slightly fuller, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the changes, drawn to them in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The way your body was adapting, preparing, made him feel a quiet awe. It wasn’t just attraction; it was admiration, a deep appreciation for the transformation he was witnessing. He hadn’t said anything, of course—he knew you were still adjusting, still wary of him, and any comment on your body would likely only push you further away.

But he noticed. Every time he held you, every time you crossed his path, he felt a heightened awareness, his gaze inevitably drawn to the small signs of change. He’d often catch himself before you noticed, careful to keep his admiration hidden.

But the feelings for your growing body also went a little...past just admiration. He felt an ache in his groin as he kept thinking about your newly grown belly, and how much bigger you would have to get if you were going to carry a baby. He shifted, the tightness in his pants feeling a little more uncomfortable than usual.

He let out a sigh, looking down in annoyance at the hardness in his pants. This wasn't the first time he had gotten riled up at the thought of you, but he was usually pretty good at ignoring it until the ache went away. After seeing your belly preparing itself however, that wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

So he lifts his hips up to pull down his pants and boxers. His erection sprang free, curving upwards towards his navel. The thick shaft was flushed a deep, angry red, the bulbous head throbbing and already dripping with clear beads of precum. Veins pulsed along the length, testament to his rampant arousal.

Sylus shuddered, wrapping his calloused hand around his throbbing cock and squeezing firmly. A guttural groan escaped his lips at the pleasurable pressure, his hips rocking upwards involuntarily. He stroked himself slowly at first, savoring the feeling of slick skin gliding over rigid flesh. But as his lust grew, so did the urgency of his movements.

He certainly wasn't a short man. He had expected that any child of his, especially a boy, wouldn't be small either. How large would you get? Would you need help turning or getting up?

It excited him more than he wanted to admit.

His breathing grew ragged, harsh pants filling the room as he pumped his fist faster and harder over his weeping cock. Lewd squelching noises joined the symphony of grunts and groans as his precum smeared along his throbbing length, easing the way for his increasingly vigorous stroking.

Fuck...you were gonna look so cute fully swollen with his baby. Especially squirming underneath him, breathless, wet and begging for his touch. Swollen, heavy breasts prepping for milk. He read somewhere that pregnant women tended to get higher libidos somewhere in the middle of the second trimester.

He hoped to god that that was true for you.

Sylus felt the telltale tingle building at the base of his spine. His impending climax rushing towards him at breakneck speed, sinful images of you arching into his touch as he fucked you into the mattress, pregnant belly and breasts swaying with each thrust filled his head. He leaned down into the dresser of his desk, grabbing a spare handkerchief and positioning under the head of his cock.

The best part of all of this, was when your pregnancy would inevitably come to an end. When your body healed and you were at your most fertile, he could do it all over again. He could impregnate you as many times as he wanted and have a huge, happy family. Money was never going to be an issue, and as long as you were fertile, he could give you babies.

Over and over and over.

With a strangled groan, he exploded, thick ropes of pearly cum erupting from the tip of his jerking cock and into the handkerchief. He stroked himself through it, wringing every last drop from his spasming member until he collapsed backwards into his chair, chest heaving and cock still twitching.

He stared down at the cum now soaked into the handkerchief and tossed it into the trashcan beneath his desk. It was a shame such a heartful load wasn't leaking out of you right now. Weeks of buildup wasted.

Oh well. Plenty of time for that later.

As Xavier drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind clung to fragmented images, blurred scenes of his anger and desperation manifesting in the same looping dream. He saw Sylus, beaten and bloodied, collapsing in defeat. And then there was you, reaching out for him, your face soft, relieved. He’d pull you into his arms, his heart racing with the promise of safety. The scene was a balm, the only comfort in his haze of pain and meds. But when he blinked awake, reality crashed down with the sterile scent of the hospital, the sting of every broken bone, and the pulsing ache in his leg, arm and ribs.

The nurse gently shook his shoulder, calling his name, breaking through the thick fog. He stirred, his eyes heavy, everything feeling sluggish under the weight of painkillers. "How are you feeling, Xavier? One being the best, and ten being the worst." she asked, her voice steady and professional. He blinked, focusing on her as she held up her chart, waiting. He grunted a "five," the number slipping from his mouth like a reflex, more out of exhaustion than precision. She noted it, a brief look of sympathy crossing her face.

“I’ll be back soon to draw your blood and change your catheter,” she said, her tone compassionate but detached. He nodded weakly, feeling the stiffness in his neck as he tried to turn slightly.

The tray of food was right there—a bland meal of mashed potatoes, corn, peas, and water—but the sight was grounding. He took a deep breath and struggled, lifting his good arm with a heavy tremor as he reached for the spoon, his movements slow, clumsy. Just lifting the spoon to his mouth was a feat in itself, each bite reminding him of his limitations, the constant reminder of Sylus’s brutality.

He remembered so little of the past weeks—disjointed pieces that barely made sense. The memory of voices, some unfamiliar, and the persistent drone of machines had woven into his dreams, always melting back into the same loop: Sylus defeated, his blood pooling around him, and you, safe in his arms, looking at him like he was all you had left. He couldn’t shake it, didn’t want to, and yet each time he awoke, he was thrown back into the raw reality of his broken body, the helplessness of it twisting his stomach with fury.

The nurse stepped out, leaving him to the quiet of the room. As he chewed, he fought to keep his thoughts coherent, to string together the fragments of memory and rage that flickered in his mind. There was only one certainty left in him, one relentless drive pushing through the fog: he would find a way to make that dream real, no matter the pain or time it took. And next time, Sylus wouldn’t be the one left standing.

Xavier's gaze drifted to the small TV on the wall, where a tv show flickered in soft colors. The volume was low, barely above a murmur, but it filled the silence of the hospital room with a familiar rhythm. He hadn’t bothered to change the channel since he’d been here, his limited mobility making even that a chore. Besides, it was easier to let the shows cycle through on their own, each one a hazy backdrop of strangers’ voices, laughter, and applause.

Tonight, it was a trivia show. The host’s voice was calm and steady, calling out questions and waiting as contestants hesitated, stumbling through answers. The distant hum of excitement and applause from the contestants was oddly comforting. It wasn’t that he cared who won or lost, but the soft chatter, the flow of random facts and questions, was enough to draw his mind away from the pain, the memories, and the endless hours of confinement.

He let his eyes close briefly, the steady drone of voices pulling him into a light doze. It was almost hypnotic, a lull that softened the ache in his ribs and the rawness of his anger, dulling everything until all he could focus on was the pleasant monotony of questions and answers. The show was mundane, predictable, a relief from the nightmares that chased him when he let his guard down.

Xavier's mind had been relentlessly circling back to you. He could still picture you, asleep on Sylus’s couch, a ghostly image lingering in his thoughts. You looked...well, worse than when he last saw you, thinner, but relatively unharmed. It was a small comfort, yet it didn’t ease the dark, gnawing worry he felt. And then, there was Sylus’s claim—that you were pregnant.

The words echoed endlessly in his mind, stirring a sharp discomfort that clenched in his chest every time he recalled them. It didn’t seem possible. You didn’t look pregnant, not visibly, and he forced himself to cling to the hope that it was some twisted ruse. A manipulation. One more way for Sylus to get in his head, and damn it if he wasn’t succeeding.

Dr. Merrill had only made matters worse. Every time he entered the room to visit, his demeanor was professional, but his eyes held that wary, knowing look that Xavier hated. It was a reminder, a silent reinforcement of Sylus’s control, and even if they’d silently agreed to play along with the “robbery” cover story, it felt like another punch to Xavier’s pride. “I got careless. A random attack…left my guard down,” he had told Captain Jenna and the other members from UNICORN who had visited.

They’d been speechless, disbelief written across their faces. The top hunter of the organization, decimated by some “robber”? He had done his best to sell it, saying he’d been caught off guard after some drinks, uncharacteristically sloppy. But he knew Captain Jenna didn’t quite believe him. She’d given him a long, searching look, but she hadn’t pressed further. For now, the lie held.

His thoughts were interrupted by the nurse’s return, moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times. She went through her routine—checking vitals, prepping for the blood draw, making small adjustments to his catheter. As she tended to him, his phone buzzed on the table. He looked at her, nodding, and she held it to his ear as usual.

“Hello?” he said, feeling the dull ache in his bones as he braced for more bad news.

The voice on the other end was familiar—his property manager. The words spilled from the receiver, the matter-of-fact tone cutting through him. “Xavier, I understand your situation, but I can’t keep the apartment on hold indefinitely without payment. I’m sorry, but I’ll need to start clearing it out this week to prepare it for the next tenant. I’m not sure why you insisted on paying for two apartments, but this arrangement…it has to end soon.”

His heart dropped, a sinking weight that left him momentarily speechless. He’d known this was coming, had felt it looming, but hearing it now, in such stark terms, twisted the knife. That apartment—your apartment—was the only piece of you he’d managed to preserve. Without it…he could lose the last thread of connection.

Clearing his throat, he forced his voice to steady. “I can give you the remainder of what I have,” he said, desperation lacing each word. “I… I can’t work right now, but I’ll take out a loan if I have to. Please, just give me a little more time. A few more weeks.”

There was silence on the other end, the brief pause stretching out painfully. Finally, the manager spoke, her tone softer but unyielding. “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises.”

"If you must clean it out, please leave her clothes, documents, pictures, and stuffed animals in boxes outside my place. I'll take them and have someone move them inside. Everything else can go."

"Understood. Rest well."

The line went dead, and the nurse set his phone back down. She continued her work in silence, but he could feel her occasional glances, her unspoken sympathy. He clenched his hand into a fist, the pain in his fingers barely registering beneath the fresh ache in his chest. The nurse left and it was just him again.

Xavier felt the tears pressing behind his eyes, but nothing came. He was spent, emptied out, unable to cry anymore. He’d cried himself raw over you, over everything he’d lost, and now, it was as if his emotions had burned themselves out. Still, a deep ache remained, gnawing at him with every breath.

Captain Jenna’s generous “bonuses” were the only thing keeping him afloat financially, covering the bulk of his rent, but it wasn’t enough to support two places. And since you were no longer classified as an active hunter, he’d found himself struggling to convince her to subsidize your rent as well. His attempts to hold onto your apartment, your last space, were slipping through his fingers like sand.

He let out a weary sigh, his hand resting heavily on the now-empty dinner tray. Just as he was about to settle back into the silence, a commotion stirred in the hall.

“Ma’am, visiting hours are over…hey!” a nurse’s voice protested, strained with urgency. There was a scuffle, the sound of hurried footsteps, and Xavier strained to lift his head. Moments later, a familiar face bounced into his room, brown hair and eyes bright with energy.

“Tara?” he muttered, bewildered.

“It’ll only be a minute! Hold on!” she called over her shoulder, flashing a mischievous grin at the nurse. She turned back to him, face beaming as she moved a chair to his bedside. Her excitement was palpable, filling the air around her, and Xavier blinked up at her, caught off guard by her vibrant energy.

“How are you doing?” she asked, her voice warm, but her eyes scanned his bandages, his cast, and the pallor in his face.

He gave a small, tired smile. “I could be better,” he admitted.

She nodded, her eyes sympathetic but still sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place. There was a giddiness about her, an intense excitement that he couldn't place. He squinted, confused. “Why are you so excited?” he asked, voice tinged with curiosity.

A giggle bubbled up from Tara, and she pulled her phone out, brandishing it in front of him. “Because,” she began, nearly bursting, “I heard from her! Can you believe it? She’s alive and thinking about me!” Tara’s eyes danced with joy as she held her phone up, revealing a familiar name at the top of a recent text thread. “Look! Look what she sent me!”

Xavier’s gaze fell on the screen, and his chest tightened. There, clear as day, was a message from you. The message read simply but warmly, wishing Tara well and saying you hoped to see her again someday. His stomach clenched, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. This had to be Sylus’s doing. He could practically see the smug expression Sylus would have, reveling in the illusion he was spinning.

But he couldn’t say that to Tara.

His face remained carefully neutral, struggling to maintain a calm facade. “I’m happy she messaged,” he said, voice steady but weighed down with emotion. “Relieved…she’s alive and well.”

Images of you asleep on Sylus’s couch flickered through his mind, the faint rise and fall of your chest, your figure strained and thinner than he had remembered you. He knew better than to hope, but seeing the message struck something deep within him. He looked up at Tara, forcing himself to smile through the turmoil swirling in his mind.

“Seriously, I’m glad you got to hear from her,” he added softly, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray the dread he felt.

"Me too! I told her you were hospitalized, hoping maybe it would make her wanna come visit but she hasn't responded sadly".

The door swung open, and the nurse entered, her expression stern, disapproval clear in her eyes. “Ma’am, if you can’t respect the rules, you’ll be barred from visiting,” she said, her voice sharp and unwavering. Tara let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as she rose from the chair beside his bed, brushing her hands over her clothes in mild annoyance.

“Fine, fine,” she muttered, flashing Xavier a look that seemed both apologetic and a bit frustrated. “Sorry our visit was so short. This was the only time I could get away today,” she added, softening as she looked at him. “I’ll try come back in a few days. Get some rest in the meantime, Xavier!”

He managed a small nod, a wave of sudden exhaustion pulling him under as Tara shot him a last bright smile before the nurse gently ushered her toward the door. With one last glance over her shoulder, she was gone, the sound of her cheerful goodbye lingering in the room.

The quiet returned, thick and heavy, and Xavier sighed, pressing his back into the hospital bed. His hand trembled as he reached for the plastic cup of water by his bedside. Lifting it with his good hand, he took a shaky sip, the coolness offering some brief relief against the dryness in his throat.

His mind replayed the visit over and over, the brief flash of Tara’s happiness, the message from you on her phone. How easy it had been for Sylus to manipulate your voice, to craft a message just believable enough to soothe the people who missed you. It felt almost mocking. As he placed the cup back down, his fingers slipped, and he caught it with a quiet curse, the weariness in his bones starting to settle deep.

The aching in his chest wasn’t just physical; the uncertainty gnawed at him, hollow and relentless. He lay back, eyes drifting shut, waiting for the pull of sleep to offer him some escape from the steady, simmering dread that had taken up permanent residence inside him.

Xavier wasn't sure how much time passed since then. Days. Weeks. None of it mattered anymore. Dr. Grey entered Xavier's room, clipboard in hand, his expression measured as he checked over Xavier’s latest chart. Standing beside the bed, he offered a polite nod, glancing at Xavier’s array of casts and bandages before beginning his assessment.

“Well, we’re seeing some positive signs of healing. Your bones are knitting well, though given the extent of your injuries, I expect that you’ll be able to start a semi-recovery phase in about four months,” he explained, adjusting his glasses and skimming through the notes. “But as you might guess, physical therapy will likely add at least another two months. And you’ll need to be diligent with it to avoid setbacks.”

Xavier’s face fell as he processed the news. He groaned, his frustration palpable. Six months. Half a year. It was an eternity, too long when he could barely keep himself from going stir-crazy in the bed after just a few weeks. He muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” his hand clenching around the bed rail as he fought the urge to sink back into the haze of exhaustion and disappointment that had plagued him since his injury.

He closed his eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, hoping to drift away, if only for a few moments. But to his surprise, he felt Dr. Grey hesitate. The doctor wasn’t moving to leave; instead, there was a brief pause, then the scrape of a chair being pulled closer to his bed. Xavier’s eyes opened slightly, watching as Dr. Grey leaned in, his face shifting into an expression that hinted at something more than the usual professionalism.

Dr. Grey’s voice dropped to a lower, confidential tone. “Between you and me, Xavier…my team and I have been working on something… experimental,” he began, his gaze intense, as though gauging Xavier’s reaction. “Now, I know what you might be thinking—sounds shady, right? But hear me out. This could be revolutionary for medicine.”

Xavier’s brow furrowed, his wariness growing as he took in the doctor’s words. “Experimental?” he echoed, his voice rough with both curiosity and skepticism.

Dr. Grey nodded. “If this works the way we believe it could…you’ll be back on your feet far sooner than six months,” he explained, the gleam of ambition unmistakable in his eyes. “We’re talking no physical therapy. We’d skip right to complete bone regeneration and muscle repair, advanced healing far beyond the standard protocols.”

For a moment, Xavier was speechless, his thoughts racing. A quicker recovery would change everything—restore his autonomy, get him back to his work. It would mean less time relying on people like doctors and nurses, less time spent waiting for the smallest signs of progress.

And more importantly, get him back on his feet and to you.

He took a deep breath, his skepticism wavering slightly in the face of this new possibility.

“But…” Xavier said slowly, eyeing Dr. Grey carefully, “experimental could mean anything. Risks. Side effects.” He usually wasn’t one to jump into things blindly, not without knowing what he’d be up against.

Dr. Grey’s face grew serious, his tone steady and measured. “Yes, there’s risk. No treatment is without it, especially in uncharted territory like this. But the preliminary results we’re seeing are promising. If it works, you’ll be out of here much faster than anyone thought possible.”

Xavier mulled over the offer, the potential benefits battling against the whispers of doubt in his mind. The six-month stretch ahead of him felt like a prison sentence he couldn’t stomach, a length of time he couldn’t afford to lose. But the thought of unknown side effects nagged at him, adding a darker edge to the choice in front of him.

He glanced up at Dr. Grey, weighing the options carefully.

Xavier stared, a mix of disbelief and wary curiosity flickering across his face. “So…sooner than six months? With my injuries?” he murmured, the doubt sharp in his voice. He tightened his grip on the edge of the bed, gritting his teeth as he tried to wrap his head around what the doctor was saying. “It sounds…impossible.”

Dr. Grey offered a small, encouraging nod, his eyes lighting up as he rubbed his hands together, warming to the topic. “Look, Xavier,” he began, his voice laced with enthusiasm tempered by professionalism, “even if the recovery time doesn’t end up as drastically reduced as we hope, I can guarantee one thing: you’ll come out of this much stronger. Think of it this way—typically, after severe breaks like yours, even with the best therapy, the bones don’t ever quite return to their original strength. They’re vulnerable, fragile, prone to aches and limitations. But this…” he paused, as if savoring the impact of his words, “this could give you bones that are as strong—no, stronger—than they ever were. It’s essentially as if you’d been given brand new bones.”

Xavier felt his breath hitch. “Brand new bones?” The concept was almost beyond belief, a prospect that seemed too good to be true. It was like a second chance, a way to return not just to his old self, but maybe even better. And yet, his skepticism remained. “But…why me?” he asked, narrowing his gaze. “I mean, this can’t be something you offer everyone who comes in here.”

Dr. Grey nodded slowly, weighing his answer before he replied. “True, not everyone is a candidate. But in your case, your natural strength as an Evolver and your resilience make you uniquely suited to withstand the process. Evolvers have a different kind of stamina, a level of resilience the average person just doesn’t have. We believe this factor alone could make you less prone to some of the riskier side effects we might expect in others. Your body is already conditioned to endure more than most.”

Xavier took this in, a strange flicker of hope stirring in him, tangled with wariness. His eyes drifted down to the cast on his broken leg, envisioning what “brand new bones” might mean in terms of mobility, agility, strength.

Xavier narrowed his eyes at Dr. Grey, the skepticism carving deeper lines into his face. “And the catch?” His voice held a hardened edge, matching the unyielding look he gave the doctor. This all felt too good to be true. In his line of work, anything that sounded miraculous usually had a dark side. He’d likely end up a glorified guinea pig for some experimental nightmare and be worse off than he started.

But…there wasn’t a line he wouldn’t cross for you, no risk too great. If the price was turning into some kind of super mutant or even losing parts of himself in ways he could hardly imagine, so be it. If it brought him closer to rescuing you, it was worth it.

Dr. Grey shifted, hesitating for a fraction of a second before continuing. “There is one primary side effect,” he admitted, his tone carefully measured. “We’ve observed a tendency for this treatment to…impact fertility. Both men and women, in preliminary trials, show significant drops in sperm and egg counts. In some cases, the subjects have lost reproductive abilities entirely.” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s not something we’re proud of, but it’s been difficult to address so far. If that’s a potential deal-breaker…”

Xavier shut his eyes, the doctor’s words settling heavily in his mind. The idea of a life where having a family with you might be impossible sent a sharp, painful pang through his chest. He had imagined that life with you—seeing you safe, starting anew, building something together that could finally erase the pain and chaos. To lose the chance of creating that future would be…devastating.

But then his thoughts spun back to you, imagining the worst of what you might be facing at that very moment, and his resolve hardened. No matter how much it tore him up, he knew his choice. You were the reason he had to see this through, the reason he’d go to the end of any dark path if it meant even a chance of finding you.

Opening his eyes, he looked back at Dr. Grey, voice steadier than he felt. “What do I need to do?”

Dr. Grey pulled his chair closer, glancing around the empty room before leaning in with an almost conspiratorial air. “The process is unconventional,” he began, keeping his voice low. “What we’re proposing is an IV-based therapy infused with liquid stem cells—stem cells that are mutated, cultivated from a unique gene therapy we’re developing. You’d be receiving not just healing cells, but cells that could actively ‘re-code’ the bone and tissue growth at an accelerated rate.”

Xavier stared at him, skepticism flaring. “You’re saying this will just… rebuild everything that’s broken?”

“Not just rebuild,” Dr. Grey clarified, “but create brand-new, fortified structures. The treatment relies on highly controlled pluripotent stem cells—cells that can turn into any type of tissue your body needs to repair, replacing damaged bone and muscle. We’ve also engineered them with peptides to enhance integration, minimizing scar tissue and allowing for what could be an almost full recovery.” Dr. Grey’s voice took on an eager edge, as though the science itself thrilled him.

Xavier considered the implications, a wariness settling over him. “Why keep it quiet? If this is so revolutionary, why not use it openly?”

Dr. Grey’s face hardened slightly, and he shook his head. “This therapy hasn’t been through traditional approval channels yet. Too many hurdles and red tape. If word got out, the scrutiny could shut down the whole program before we’ve even seen the full potential. That’s why I’m asking you to keep this between us.” He glanced briefly at the closed door before looking back at Xavier, his eyes intent. “If anyone on the staff asks, tell them I’m trialing an enhanced recovery solution. They don’t need to know what’s in the IV.”

Xavier processed this, a wave of doubt mingling with a grim determination. Risk or not, this treatment might be his best shot at getting back on his feet in time to make a difference. Still, the potential for irreversible effects, the secrecy, and the implications hung over him like a dark cloud.

“When do we start?” Xavier finally said, his tone a mixture of resignation and resolve.

Dr. Grey nodded, a spark of approval in his eyes. “We’ll begin tomorrow morning. It’ll be administered daily through a controlled IV drip. You’ll likely feel strange—minor aches, even slight chills as the cells begin to integrate. But over time, you should notice the pain lessening, your bones strengthening faster than normal.”

He looked Xavier in the eye. “And remember, if anyone asks, you’re on an advanced, routine recovery regimen. Let’s not invite extra questions.”

Xavier nodded and the two shook hands. And with that, Dr. Grey checked Xavier's vitals before heading for the door.

As Dr. Grey exited, Xavier stared at the door, a blend of unease and determination churning within him.

For hours, Xavier lay still, staring up at the sterile ceiling tiles. The hum of machinery in the background droned on, an endless rhythm that allowed his mind to wander deeper into his thoughts. Was he about to make a colossal mistake? Was he really willing to let Dr. Grey treat him with an experimental concoction, to let his body become a petri dish for untested science? A gnawing feeling of unease grew in his gut, twisting alongside the lingering ache of his injuries. The thought circled back like a vulture, forcing him to question if this was desperation leading him down a dangerous path.

But then his thoughts drifted back to you—your face, the way you looked when he last saw you, thinner, sleeping in Sylus's house as if you belonged there. Anger churned, and it transformed his doubt into something sharper. He couldn’t let Sylus keep you trapped. The longer he lay here, the stronger Sylus’s grip over you became. If this treatment could bring him back stronger, faster, ready to take on any danger…it would be worth it.

He could feel his heartbeat thudding, the blood rushing with a renewed purpose. He pictured himself fully healed, the ache and limitations of his injuries gone. Imagined the possibility of facing Sylus not just as a recovering man but as someone better, someone who could outmatch and overpower him.

A sense of determination crystallized. He could become more than Sylus’s equal. His lips tightened, resolve hardening like steel in his gut. His vision sharpened with new clarity, his dreams of seeing Sylus bloodied and broken gaining new weight, becoming less fantasy and more like a promise to himself.

And if Dr. Grey’s treatment delivered, those dreams might just become reality.

#umi writes ♡︎#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace smut #sylus #lads #sylus x reader smut #lnds #l&ds #lads smut #love and deep space x reader #xavier x reader #l&ds xavier #xavier lads #lads xavier #xavier love and deepspace

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sideysvault · 5 months ago

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˖⁺‧₊The 5 times Deadpool calls you ‘babygirl’₊‧⁺˖

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

wc 0.8k

Tags: Minors dni. Foul language, canon typical violence, smut, established relationship.

────────

1. The apartment was dimly lit. It was a chilly September afternoon. Both of you were parading around, frantically looking for all the flyers and menus that local restaurants have left at your door and car ever since you moved into the neighborhood. You had been arguing about what to order for dinner for approximately forever. And you guys were starving.

“Thai.”

“Not so quickly, hot stuff. We had that shit last week. Mexican.”

“We have Mexican food all the time. I love it but enough is enough”.

The man let out a theatrical gasp and exclaimed “Enough Mexican food? What’s next?” Taking a deep breath, he began making a poor imitation of your high-pitched voice “Enough of you! Enough of us!

You held in an amused giggle. He had the ability to make mundane endeavors quite entertaining.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll be an awesome boyfriend and cook for you tonight. Sounds good, babygirl?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sound of that word.

“What did you just call me?”

Wade got up from his seat and started to make his way into the kitchen. Just as he is walking behind you, he smacks your ass while giving your temple a soft kiss.

“Stop being difficult”

By the time he arrived at the kitchen counter, you had him trapped with a hug from behind. Leaving soft, sloppy kisses all over his back, neck and shoulders. You really loved it when he cooked.

2. Wade had no plans of introducing his partner to what he considered nothing more than losers in spandex. But now that he was presented with the opportunity, he was quite pleased with himself. A sense of pride filled his chest with a feather-like sensation. He still wasn’t sure of how a woman like you could even date him, but he was glad you did.

“Baby, this is the Russian tin man and his teenage sidekick, Guys, this is my beautiful sexy babygirl”

You immediately feel your face heating up with embarrassment. Luckily, the duo seems to be very accustomed to your boyfriend's antics. They quickly laughed it off with a roll in their eyes.

At the end of the day, he may be the biggest asshole in the world, but they are happy to see Wade in a good, normal relationship. Or at least, as normal as you could get with him.

3. He could feel you wince in pain with every step he took. Your nails were digging into his skin with such force that Wade was pretty sure it was making him bleed. But as long as he got you to the hidden safety offered by the forest near the road, nothing mattered. He tried to put you down as gently as he could. No matter his efforts, as soon as he laid you on the humid duff, you let out something stuck between a gasp and a scream. And as soon as Wade heard it, he felt his heart stop.

It was your very first time getting shot. And it has been his fault.

“It’s okay baby girl, I got you. Just look at me, okay?”

“I know it hurts, baby. We’ll fix it. Brand new. I promise.”

He did not soften the hand which he used to apply pressure on your wound. And he did not let his protective hug soften either.

4. The bedsheets felt humid. You assumed it came from the salty sweat on your body. The woman had been awoken by a nightmare for the third time this week. You panicked for a second, feeling the warm sensation of breath behind your neck. But you soon realized that it was Wade. He had his arms around your waist, and you could hear a light snort coming out of the man. You let out a breath you did not know you were holding.

You two were together, at home. Turning around to face him and hide your face in the crook of his neck, pulling yourself as physically close to your boyfriend as you could. He woke up with a groan. Wade kissed your forehead and sloppily rearranged the messy hair out of your face. You could hear him mumbling sweet nothing as he tightens his grip on you and softly tracing invisible lines on your back.

“Go back to sleep, baby girl. You are safe”.

5 -The cold sensation of the wall against your nipples was completely intoxicating.

Your head felt dizzy because of the constant stimulation. You were pretty sure you were about to pass out. But Wade’s hand kept your head in place, while he left a thrilling trail of kisses all over your neck and back.

The woman lets out a whine almost every time she feels the thrusts. Her pussy was filled with the overwhelming tingles of a denied orgasm.

“You can do it, babygirl, you are so fucking tight. Keep it up, honey”.

Your hand reached for the back of his head, pulling his head closer as he pounded into you with more strength than before.

His hand covered your mouth as he mumbled into your ear “Bite it. We are not over yet”.

────────

Notes: Hi pretty! Thank you so much for your follow and your requests! I hope to write them all soon. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy reading this one. Take care! -Sidey xxo

Based on this request.

#deadpool #deadpool x y/n #deadpool x you #deadpool x reader #deadpool fic #wade wilson x you #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson fanfic #wade wilson deadpool #wade wilson #x force #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool 3 #deadpool movie

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byuntrash101 · 11 months ago

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cheerleader

f!reader x yunho x mingi x san x seonghwa smut | mdni 1.6k the boys always like to celebrate victory with their biggest cheerleader after a game nsfw tags under the cut

#18: blowgang + bukkake (twt p☆rnlink) soccer players!ateez, blowbang (m rec.), facials and a lot of cum (bukkake), dom!ateez, sub!reader, gentle!yunho, mean!seonghwa, praising, degrading (whore, slut)

a/n: okkk so this is the first request for my 3k celebration! i hope you enjoy it! look forward to the other ones <3

3k celebration | ateez masterlist | navigation

You almost squeezed the hotdog out of the bun as Yunho scored the last winning goal. The crowd rose in unisson for the college team. The euphoria took over you when the tall team captain sent you a flying kiss for the goal celebration.

Him and the whole team knew they owed you a lot. Rare were the fans that were as devoted and cheered as loud as you. And you planned to show this devotion once again after the game. Like you always do: on your knees.

***

The floor of the locker room scraped your bare knees but you couldn't care less about the pain when nearly half the team was standing in front of you, fresh out of the shower, hair still wet, droplets of water trickling down their chests and torsos to reach the white towels tightly wrapped around their waists.

“You saw, baby?” Yunho said, wrapping his big warm hand around your neck to pull you closer. “I scored just for you.” He pressed his clothed half hard cock to your cheek and you bit your lip to repress a moan.

“Shut up, you scored one goal. I caught like five attempts.” Mingi, the goalkeeper, scoffed side eyeing his tall captain that didn't pay him any attention as he was guiding your hand over the outline of his cock. Mingi also approached you, ripping the towel off him.

“Here, love” Mingi said gently, wrapping his hand around your jaw to turn your head away from Yunho and to his direction. “Suck on my cock. I saved the game”

You started to lick your lips hurriedly as your mouth started to water at the sight of Mingi’s juicy length.

“Excuse me, what about us?” San interjected also coming into view with his rock hard cock in hand. Instantly your eyes traveled from the thick and veiny appendix to the sculpted V on his abdomen then to his pecs and board shoulders, his skin was still wet and glistening. “Seonghwa and I defended like our lives depended on it! I think I did a good job. I should get my dick sucked.” San said poking his cock into you other cheek.

“Come on, guys” Seonghwa finally said, also stepping to you. “There’ll be enough of our favorite cheerleader for all of us. Right, darling? You’ll be a good girl and suck all of our cocks?” The oldest said with a half smirk, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. You felt arousal pool between you thighs at the mere mention of having all these cocks into your mouth and nodded immediately.

“Yes. I’ll suck all of your cocks for as long as you want” you replied looking at the four men circling you.

“Good little slut.” Seonghwa said, stroking your cheek and guiding you on his length. You immediately opened your mouth to take him past your lips. The smooth tip glided on your tongue while you moaned and Seonghwa sighed in pleasure.

“Sorry boys, eldest privilege” Seonghwas said in a breath as the others were grunting in disapproval.

“Here babygirl use your hands” Yunho said as he wrapped your fingers around his huge and dripping cock.

“Me too baby” Mingi said, taking your other hand. And you started to jerk off the two men while you bobbed your head on Seonghwa length’s coating it with your spit as all kinds of beautiful sounds erupted from them.

“Fuck what about me?” San complained as he stroked his cock while looking at you being at your maximum capacity.

As soon as you heard him whine you popped Seonghwa out of your mouth to shove San’s cock into your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat instantly making him groan and moan.

“Fuck baby, that feels… so g-good” San said throwing his head back, putting both hands on his nape.

“Fuck baby grip harder” Yunho said tightly wrapping his big hands around yours. Thrusting his fat cock into your ballad fist. “Yeaah like that” he sighed in bliss.

Seonghwa gathered your hair in one of his hands and pushed your face on San’s length while his other hand jerked himself off, his spit-coated cock making wet squelching noises in the process.

“Yeah that's it, baby. Suck his dick just like that. Show me what that pretty mouth can do” Seonghwa encouraged.

“Fuckk” San whimpered when your nose touched his pubic bone with the eldest's help and you repressed a gag before popping him out with a cough amd gasping for air.

Only seconds later Seonghwa was stuffing your mouth and throat with his cock again. You didn’t even have a second to breathe you were already being gagged on his length as he relentlessly fucked your throat.

Mingi whimpered and Yunho grunted as you balled your fists tighter in response. Both the men thrusting into your hands while tears bloomed into your eyes. Seonghwa looked down at you with a satisfied grin when two big tears rolled on your heated cheeks before he released you.

You coughed up again and let go of Mingi and Yunho.

“Come on baby, you’re not already tired are you?” Yunho said, lifting your face to look up at him. You shook your head unable to respond verbally due to the burning in your throat and earned another praise from the tall man.

You opened your mouth once again, wrapping your hand around Mingi’s length with one hand and around San’s with the other one. You started to slurp on Yunho's cock, bobbing your head a couple of times before popping him out and going to Mingi. The man threw his head back. You did the same thing before taking San back into your mouth. Then you were back to taking Seonghwa. You alternated like this for a while until San pulled on your hair to get your avid wet mouth off his cock. He shut his eyes tight and breathed in heavily, large beads of sweat rolling on his temple and hanging on his sharp jaw line.

“Fuck that was close, almost busted” San said in a short breath.

“Baby you’re so good with that pretty little mouth of yours you almost made San cum” Yunho cooed.

“Do that on me baby” Mingi requested and you immediately gave him your undivided attention. You wrapped both your hands around his base while you slipped his tip inside your mouth, licking the slit, your eyes fluttering close at the taste of his precum filling your mouth. Everytime you bobbed your head your hands followed your mouth, perfectly gliding on his length thanks to your spit.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck b-baby” Mingi hurriedly said. also pulling on your hair.

“Yeah she’s good” San said with a smirk while you let Mingi out and aimed his tip onto your face, making him spill his load right onto your cheeks and lips, your hands still jerking his twitching cock until you eventually milked him dry.

“Fuck baby” Mingi said shuddering and short of breathe, “that was amazing.”

“My turn” Yunho said, breaching your swollen lips. “God f-fuck” he groaned as he felt your throat tightening around him. He was also quite close after this much teasing. Your hand wrapped around San’s cock and you started jerking him off again.

“Fuck you look so pretty my cock shoved down your cock and covered in cum” Yunho groaned, his raspy voice getting strained.

“Just for you” you briefly said before taking him back into your mouth and bobbing your head even faster.

“Fuckkk… g-gonna cum. ” Yunho said. And you popped him out and immediately taking Hwa’s cock inside your wet hole, continuously jerking off San.

“Look at me baby while you suck on Seonghwa’s cock. Look at me while I cum for you.” Yunho’s raspy voice whispered as he was lifting your chin to him and he jerked himself off. As Seonghwa fucked your throat you turned her head slightly to receive Yunho's warm load on your face you moaned around Seonghwa as you felt the hot cum come in contact with your heated skin.

“Fuck I can't hold on anymore. Baby my turn” San said as you didn’t stop pulling and pushing on his cock with your balled fist. You aimed his cock to your face where he came immediately after Yunho the three big loads mixing and decorating your pretty face, becoming indistinguishable.

“Fuck what a fucking whore you are baby” Seonghwa said also getting out your mouth to stroke his cock over your face “open your mouth, slut.” You immediately executed the command.

“She’s so hungry for cum that’s crazy” San noted with a smirk that you could hear.

“Insatiable,” Yunho added.

“Want one more?” Seonghwa asked and you didn't even have the time to agree before beautiful thick ropes of cum spurted out of his slit to soak your face with yet another warm load. “Fuckkk” Seonghwa moaned while you hurriedly sucked on your lips and scraped the cum on your cheeks to your mouth, avidly sucking on your fingers, your brain officially switching off to focus solely on the taste of the four men in your mouth.

“Hmmm so good.” you moaned against your fingers. “More.” And Seonghwa chuckled.

“Let's call back the rest of the team to take care of you, baby” Seonghwa said pushing your hair out of your beautiful fucked out face.

“Four of us isn’t enough, right darling?” Yunho asked but you were way too far gone to answer anything.

“On it” Mingi said as he picked up his phone from his locker “Yeah, Joong, can you come back to the lockers? Yeah… y/n is here. Yeah we already started but we need back up.”

a/n: what. a. start!!!!! I'm super excited for this event! I hope you had as much fun reading as me writing. look forward to the other fics <3

3k celebration | ateez masterlist | navigation

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sweetkpopmusings · 5 months ago

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cuddly jisung <3

a/n: ahh !!!! jisung is just a sweet babygirl and i love him DEARLY ! i’ve been in my jisung feels all day, so i needed to write this request <333 i also may be definitely am tipsy, so i’m sitting in front of my computer like 🥺💗thinking of cuddly jisung <3333 i wanted to try a different format for this one, so let me know your thoughts ! :-) pics not mine~~

a/n p.s.: i accidentally deleted the original ask where this request was sent (i'm so sorry!!!), so i hope it finds the original requester, wherever you are now :-(((( </3

content: fluff, established relationship | wc: 0.5k | warnings: none really! | pairing: bf!jisung x gn!reader | requests: open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sleepy jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung gets so so so clingy the moment his eyelids droop from sleepiness. if he so much as yawns when you’re nearby, he’ll be glued to your side within seconds. he’s such a whiny baby too. if you push him away, he’ll threaten to cry, his big brown eyes glistening, murmuring why won’t you cuddle me? it does not matter if you are in the middle of folding clothes or working. to jisung, the only cure for his restless state is to be in your arms, and he’ll do whatever he can to snuggle into your embrace.

excited jisung♡‧₊˚

when jisung gets a burst of energy, he is bouncing right at your side. did you get good news? his hands are on your shoulders while he’s jumping up and down, screaming with joy. did they have your favorite snacks at the store? he’s wrapping his arms around you saying i can’t believe it! we’re so lucky! did you smile at him cutely? he’s holding your face in both of his hands, cooing praises of how adorable you are. please return the favor and hold his face in your hands, for that will send jisung to an entirely different dimension of happiness. in the end, any time jisung’s eyes are sparkling, his hand is searching for yours, ready to give an enthusiastic squeeze or pull you into a hug to remind you how lucky he feels to have you around.

stressed jisung♡‧₊˚

it doesn’t take long into the relationship for you to know signals of jisung’s stress. if his shoulders are slumped or his walk is slow, you call his name and outstretch your arms. every time, he melts into you, sighing in relief for the first time in forever. with your fingers twirling his hair and massaging his scalp, he’ll spill all his worries and thank you endlessly. up close and able to hear your heartbeat, he remembers that, with you by his side, he can endure anything. you are his safe space, his cure, and he reminds you every day that he’ll always open his arms to hold you and protect you from harm.

sad jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung gets especially cuddly when he’s feeling down. he appreciates anything you do to lift his mood, but the number one cure is to bury his head into your hair or shoulder or neck or chest, safe from whatever is hurting him. this urge to lose himself in you heightens whenever he misses you. he’ll message you daily, telling you how much he loves you and keeping a tally of how many hugs he owes you. once you’re within arms reach, he’s wrapping his body around you and never letting go. even if there are tears in his eyes, he’s whispering i love you, y/n.

lovestruck jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung is in awe of you from the moment you meet, and that grows stronger the more he gets to know you. when you two have time alone together, he gravitates toward you, settling into your warmth. frequently, you’ll catch him staring at you while you’re watching something together because he cannot believe how real and beautiful you are. he’s a big fan of playing with your hands and hair too. it’s a simple gesture, but it’s his way of appreciating even the smallest details of you. truly, when he is overwhelmed by how much he loves you, he’ll hold you however possible and have the biggest, sweetest, most heartwarming grin on his face because you are his favorite person in the world.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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valkyrieromanoff · 20 days ago

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God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

PREVIOUS LAST

CHAPTER NINE: BED CHEM

synopsis: Finally, you and Anakin surrender to your true feelings and share a night of intense lovemaking.

warning: 18+, age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, sex, oral sex (female receiving), cowgirl position (ride him), missionary position, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex (cum inside, no condom)

w: 3.7 k (probably the biggest smut I've ever written lol)

a/n: hello there, It took me a while but I'm finally back, I had such a hangover of ideas, so I took the opportunity to read the novelization of Revenge of the Sith, and gosh, the best book ever, Anakin is such a babygirl!! Anyway, I hope you like it, and fell free to tell me what you think... I can't believe this is the penultimate chapter, I thank again those who have been following since the beginning, kisses 💖💗

And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine And I bet it's even better than in my head

“I didn’t want things to escalate that way,” you murmured between kisses, your breath hitching with the emotion behind your words. Your lips, already swollen and red, pressed against his with a desperation that only deepened as you spoke. “It’s not like I regret it, because I don’t. I just…” Your voice faltered as your hands cradled his face, your thumb brushing over the faint, soft stubble growing along his jawline. “I’m afraid of losing Luke’s friendship. We’ve been through so much together, good and bad. I don’t want him to hate me.”

Anakin pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes soft and steady. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice like a low hum that vibrated through you. “He could never hate you.” He turned his face slightly, his lips brushing against your palm in an affectionate kiss that sent warmth blooming through your chest. “And if he’s angry, he’ll aim that at me. I’m his father, after all,” he added softly, his lips trailing kisses down your wrist.

The gentleness of the moment melted into something lighter as a small giggle escaped you, your body shivering involuntarily.

Anakin paused, his brow arching as a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Are you ticklish?” he asked, his tone playful, the heat in his gaze momentarily replaced by mischief.

You bit your lip, your cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Your stubble tickles me,” you admitted shyly, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Does it now?” he teased, the smirk growing as his eyes sparkled with amusement. Without warning, he slid one arm securely around your waist and lifted you with ease, the motion effortless but deliberate. You gasped, clinging to his shoulders, but the sound dissolved into laughter as his hands found your sides, fingers lightly brushing your skin in a purposeful assault.

“Anakin, stop!” you managed through peals of laughter, wriggling in his grasp.

“Stop?” he repeated, feigning innocence, his grin widening as he carried you to the bed. “Why would I stop when I just found your weakness?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was an unmistakable warmth beneath it, his affection for you shining in every word, every touch.

He set you down gently, his weight shifting over you as his hands stilled, cupping your face instead. “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he murmured, his voice softening again, his thumb brushing along your cheek.

The teasing dissipated, replaced by a quiet, intimate stillness as his lips found yours once more, slower this time, savoring every moment.

“You’re always beautiful,” Anakin murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. The soft graze of his stubble sent shivers down your spine, and when he nibbled lightly, your breath hitched, a warmth spreading through you.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his stormy blue gaze, the intensity there stealing what little composure you had left. His face hovered above yours, his elbows propped on either side of your head as he held himself steady. A silly, passionate smile played on his lips, but it didn’t dull the hunger in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with reverence. “You’re so beautiful. Too much.”

His words hit you with the weight of his sincerity, and you looked away, suddenly overwhelmed, heat rising in your cheeks. “Stop,” you murmured, your voice shy, one hand coming up in a half-hearted attempt to push against his chest.

He caught your hand easily, his fingers sliding between yours as if they belonged there. Bringing your hand close to his mouth, he pressed a string of tender, pitying kisses to your knuckles, his lips warm and soft against your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, his voice low and fervent, each word infused with the weight of his love.

Your eyes darted back to his, and the intensity in his gaze sent your heart racing. It wasn’t just desire—it was love, raw and unfiltered, shining in those deep blue eyes.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, his tone pleading now. His free hand slid to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your heated skin. “Stop doubting it. Stop doubting me.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you felt the sting of tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. His stubble brushed against your jaw as he leaned closer, his lips skimming your skin like a whispered promise.

“Let me love you,” he begged softly, his breath warm against your ear. His lips moved against your skin, planting a trail of kisses that left you dizzy, his passion igniting a fire that settled deep in your chest.

Every touch, every word, wrapped around you like a cocoon of safety and adoration. You surrendered to the moment, to him, your fingers tightening around his as your heart finally let go of its hesitation.

Your fingers threaded into his blond hair, soft and unruly beneath your touch, pulling him closer. His face descended, and your lips met in a kiss that was more than passion—it was a silent answer, a request, and a promise all at once. It was your way of saying yes, of asking him to move forward, to let his love envelop you, to let his devotion wash over you like the waves crashing against the ship outside.

His kisses trailed down your face, each one featherlight, like the gentle caress of sunlight breaking through the clouds. They warmed your skin, chasing away every doubt, every shadow that lingered in your heart. Your cheeks flushed, not from the heat of desire, but from the overwhelming flood of emotions his touch stirred within you.

His hands glided down the sides of your body, his fingertips barely skimming your skin as though you were something sacred. There was no urgency in his movements, no rush—only reverence, as if he were tracing the lines of a masterpiece he could scarcely believe was real. His touch was a prayer, his devotion tangible in the way his hands trembled slightly, afraid that if he pressed too hard, you might break beneath him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your temple, his voice soft and filled with awe, like a hymn spoken in the quiet of a sacred place. His lips lingered there, his breath warm, as though he needed the moment to ground himself in the miracle of your presence.

The tenderness in his touch, the purity of his gaze, left you breathless. This wasn’t just love—it was something transcendent, something that felt almost otherworldly. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the quiet intensity of his affection, letting yourself be carried by the waves of his devotion.

His fingers calmly opened the buttons of your dress, revealing every inch of your skin as Anakin undressed you, his lips pressing sweet kisses, humming in appreciation as he revealed your chest, the white bra supporting the expanse of your breasts, the soft curve highlighted by the lace. "Beautiful," he murmured against your skin, kissing your covered breasts, you gasped beneath him, he traced your nipple through the seam of your bra, feeling you harden under his touch.

When your bra finally fell to the floor, a genuine smile spread across his lips as he drank in the sight of you, you were a goddess beneath him, one of those sculptures the Greeks so esteemed, pure and undeniable beauty, your beautiful pink buds perked up at his touch. Anakin's mouth closed on one, his tongue swirling and savoring the delicious sounds that escaped your lips, his hand kneaded your other breast, he kept caressing and caring, enjoying every second until you became impatient, your hands finally participating, trying to get him out of his shirt.

His hands paused, fingers splaying across your breasts, thumbing your nipples as he pinned your wrists above your head. "Patience, my love," Anakin growled, husky voice with desire. "I'm savoring every curve, every inch of your pretty body." He washed attention on your breasts, sucking and nibbling, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through you.

You arched into his touch, a wanton moan escaping your lips. "Please, Anakin," you pleaded breathlessly.

He released your wrists and sat back, quickly removing his shirt to reveal his chiseled torso. Your eyes drank in the sight of him, muscles rippling as he moved.

Anakin smiled confidently as he took off his shirt, fuck, he knew he was still hot even twenty years later, and that confidence he exuded so naturally made you even more excited, you bit your lower lip, your fingers going down his abdomen, feeling his heat warm your hand.

"Do you like what you see, little angel?" He teased you, purring against your ear, you practically moaned, his voice was husky and mature, shaking you and warming you in all the right places. "Let me take this off you."

You lifted your hips to help him pull your dress off, leaving you in only the mismatched panties you were wearing. "Little hearts?" he teased you mischievously, his finger tracing the colorful designs on your panties, you blushed.

"I, I wasn't expecting, well, this," you admitted shyly.

"Well, I found it extremely sexy, little angel," Anakin hummed, moving his fingers up to play with the seam of your panties, he lowered his head pressing a kiss to your clothed mound. Your breath hitched, and instinctively you lifted your hips upward.

“Someone is in a hurry,” he teased, pressing kisses up your belly, his hand splayed across your waist to still your movements. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Anakin assured, two fingers rolling over the damp spot growing on your panties. He smirked smugly, his ego boosted by how wet you were for him.

You settled back into the bed, your golden curls fanning out across the pillow as the older man hooked his fingers into your panties and slowly peeled them away, revealing your most intimate place to his hungry gaze. The intensity in his eyes nearly made you close your legs in embarrassment, but the way he licked his lips, practically salivating, stopped you from holding anything back.

Anakin looked up at you one final time, seeking your consent. As soon as you nodded, he dived in, burying his face between your thighs and devouring you like a man starved. He groaned against your sensitive folds, the sound reverberating through you, making you arch off the bed.

Your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. You weren't sure what you wanted, what you needed, only that he couldn't stop, because if he did, you would be incomplete. His nose brushed against your clit and you gasped, the sensation electric. Like the experienced lover he was, Anakin wasted no time in doing it again, this time with intention, pressing harder as he lapped at your slit, driven by the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.

He needed you to come undone on his face, in his mouth, needed you like the air he breathed, like sunflowers looking for the sun. With a low growl, he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your back bowed off the bed as pleasure swan through you, your thighs trembling against his cheeks, your hands fisting in his hair.

"Anakin…" You whimpered his name with a need, a sweetness, that threw him off track. He nearly forgot how to breathe, so lost in the melodious cadence of your voice.

He forced himself to summarize his mission, his destiny, and with the masterful strokes of his tongue against your pussy, you came undone, your eyes fluttering closed, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks. Your fingers tightened in your hair as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your body trembling in your arms.

Anakin lapped at your quivering flesh, savoring every drop of your sweet essence like a precious cargo, an addictive elixir that left him eternally dependent on you. He didn't want to miss a single taste, needed your delicious flavor to linger on his tongue.

As you came down from your high, you murmured breathlessly, "Wow." Your chest rose and fell with the intensity of your orgasm, and Anakin looked up from between your thighs, his eyes filled with adoration that made your heart skip a beat.

"Kiss me," you begged, and his mouth was already on yours, his hands cupping your face tenderly as your tongues tangled, sharing your sweet taste. You could feel the echoes of your pleasure in the way he kissed you, the way he held you close, like he never wanted to let go.

"Anakin…" you whispered against his lips, your hand sliding down to cup his straining erection through his pants. He groaned into your mouth, the feel of your fingers on his sensitive skin sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. How could such a sweet, petite creature like you reduce him to a desperate, needy mess so easily?

In one swift motion, Anakin shoved his pants and boxers down, freeing his throbbing cock. You wrapped your hand around his impressive length, gently stroking him as your eyes locked with his, drinking in the ecstasy you were coaxing from his body. The knowledge that you were the cause of his pleasure filled you with a heady sense of power.

Just as you were about to kneel before him, Anakin's hand on your arm stopped you. "If you keep this up, I don't know how much longer I can last," he admitted hoarsely, his blue eyes glazed over with thick clouds of desire. "Fuck, I want to cum when I'm buried deep inside you."

His blunt admission made your knees go weak, and you could only shake your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his need. Rising up on your tips, you captured his lips in a searing kiss as he guided you back onto the bed, his strong hands mapping the curves of your body with reverent touches.

Your hair spilled across the pillow as you lay back, hips raised by the thick cushion beneath you. Anakin's lips trailed hot kisses up your calf, along your inner thigh, as he positioned himself between your spread legs. You flexed your thighs, wrapping them around your hips as he rubbed the swollen head of his cock against your slick entrance.

The first touch of his thick length against your sensitive folds made you gasp, pleasure coiling tight in your belly. "Ready?" Anakin murmured, his husky voice with desire. You shook your head, pushing your hips forward, urging him on. With a low groan, he guided his cock inside, inch by torturous inch, stretching you, filling you in the most delicious way.

"Oh fuck," you moaned as he hilted himself fully, your walls clenching around his throbbing hardness. For a moment, he held still, letting you both savor the exquisite sensation of being joined so intimately. The way your heat enveloped him was almost enough to make him come undone, but he held back, wanting this night to be about your pleasure, about driving you to the heights of ecstasy.

Gripping your hips, he began to move, his powerful thrusts driving him deep, his pelvis grinding against yours with each stroke. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall as he took you with wild abandon, chasing your pleasure with a single-minded focus.

Your nails raked down his back as you met his thrusts, lost in the delicious friction, the building pressure low in your belly. "Yes, Anakin, just like that," you cried out, your voice ragged with need. "Harder, please, I'm so close."

He obeyed, pistoning into you with deep, forceful strokes, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Reaching between your bodies, he found your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

Anakin could feel your body tensing beneath him, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock as he drove into you with deep, powerful thrusts. He redoubled his efforts, grinding his pelvis against yours, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each stroke.

"That's it, baby, let go for me," he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "Cum on my cock, I want to feel you coming apart in my arms."

His words felt a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you cried out, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you, your vision whiting out as you clenched around him like a vice.

Anakin groaned, his spasming walls milking his cock, threatening to push him over the edge. But he held back, wanting to prolong your pleasure, to make you come again before he found his own release.

He slowed his thrusts, gentleling his touch as you started to come down from your high. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your pleasure.

"You're so beautiful when you cum" he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with adoration. "I want to see you come undone again and again."

Still buried deep inside you, he rolled you over, so you were straddling his hips. Reaching up, he cupped your breasts, thumbing your nipples as he guided your hips in a slow, sensual grind against him.

"Ride me, little angel," he encouraged, his hands gripping your hips, steadying you as you found your rhythm. "show me what you got”

You obliged, rising up on your knees before sinking back down, relishing the delicious stretch, the marvelous fullness of having him so deep inside you. You braced your hands on your chest, your hips rolling and undulating as you rode him with wild abandon, your hips rising and falling, your slick walls gripping him like a tight, velvet glove.

Anakin's hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of soft skin, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch. He could feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, your nails digging into his chest as you lost yourself to the primal rhythm of your bodies joining.

"Yes, just like that," Anakin groaned, his hips snapping up to meet your downward thrusts. "Fuck, you feel incredible."

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, growing even harder, if that were possible. The thought of him losing control, coming undone because of you, pushed you closer to the edge.

Your head fell back, your hair cascading down your back as you lost yourself to the pleasure, chasing your release. Anakin's thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles around the sensitive nub, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your body.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice guttural, primal. “I want to feel you melt into me, little angel”

His words were your undoing, and with a keening cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashed over you in intense, mind-numbing waves. Your walls clenched around him, trying to take him to paradise he seemed to so easily bring to you.

Anakin's hips were still moving, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his own peak. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, the head swelling, growing even harder. "I'm close," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Fuck, I'm going to cum."

His words feel a fresh wave of desire through you, and you clenched around him, eager to feel him come undone, to have him fill you with his essence.

"Do it," you urged, your voice breathy, needy. "Cum inside me, Anakin. I want to feel you."

With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep, his hips stuttering as his orgasm hit him like a supernova, a stellar explosion so powerful that it knocked him off his feet, as if he had been transported to a magical realm, leaving his mind with an explosion of sensations and colors.

His cock pulsed inside you, his hot seed spurting against your walls as he came with a force that left him shaking. You moaned as you felt him filling you, his release triggering another small orgasm of your own. Your walls fluttered around him, milking every last drop as he emptied himself inside you.

Anakin collapsed back against the bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you down on top of him, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close as the aftershocks of pleasure rolled through you both.

You could feel his heart pounding against your cheek, his skin slick with sweat. He nuzzled into your hair, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your forehead, your cheek.

"That was…" he started, his voice rough, emotion thick in his words. "Fuck, little angel, that was incredible. You're incredible."

You hummed in agreement, a satisfied smile curving your lips as you snuggled closer, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. His softening cock was still nestled inside you, his release still warm and wet between your legs.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a sweet lullaby against the steady rhythm of his heart. Your fingers traced lazy circles where his heart beat steadily beneath your palm, a testament to the love that flowed between you. The intensity of your shared pleasure had left you boneless, your eyelids growing heavy as you drifted on the waves of satisfaction.

"I love you too, my little angel," Anakin murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your hair, his lips lingering in the softness of your strands. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if you were the most precious treasure in the galaxy.

As you both drifted off to sleep, entwined in each other's arms, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you in a muffle of love and contentment. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow on your intertwined bodies, a heavenly blessing on the love you shared.

In the stillness of the night, your heartbeat syncopated with his, a beautiful melody that spoke of a love that transcended time and space, a love that would endure, no matter what challenges the future might bring.

#anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #dilf anakin x reader #dilf anakin #alternative wolrd #star wars #hayden christensen

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stararch4ngelqueen · 1 year ago

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Don’t Call Him Jealous

—

Time written-6:10 p.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut (I’m on mobile so image is huge, but c’mon it’s Jason. Take him in)

—

“Look at that, babe,” His hot, erotic rumble roared your heart into an irritating, intense drum in your chest, heating up the tips of your ears.

“It’s crying for me, begging me to have a taste.”

Hungry eyes kept an intense focus on the mirror in front of you both, the hardwood floor pooling with your arousal. He held both your legs junction over his propped up knees, keeping you spread open for his viewing pleasure alone.

Your bare chest heaved with sweat, perky nipples heavily flushed from countless pinches in between his thumbs. Repeated begs for him to slow down to give you an ounce of a break fell on deaf ears, a forearm secured between the valley of your tits, grasping you close as he fucked you with his fingers.

Overstimulation became your toxic lover, sparking you up in pain with the promise of pleasure, quickly following eachother in an endless loop.

Bucking away didn’t help, he’d only hook his fingers against your G-spot harder, forcing your ass back against his hard, girthy cock, swollen and throbbing for pussy behind the prison of his red gym shorts.

You were in a dress, at one point. A dress you kept in its protective plastic hanger for weeks. Now, it laid abandoned, torn and neglected scraps on the ground since the second Jason saw you in it.

What was his main concern about it? “Nothing.”

The fabric was a rich, deep silky blue, caressing your body perfectly in every way. His biggest issue was a certain cocky bastard, who’s signature color just so happens to lay in pieces on the ground.

Yes, he’d get calls and texts from the rest once they realize he failed to attend yet another Gala. Yes, they’d most likely realize that it wasn’t you who had planned to miss it in the first place.

The last thing he wanted was said certain cocky Grayson to make even so much as a thought of a snarky comment on such. Knowing him, he would.

It was all Jason; the man who didn’t bother to think of the tux he was supposed to have picked up from the dry cleaners before coming home from the gym.

All he had on hand was you, working up to your fourth climax in front of your bedroom mirror. A beautiful, erotic mess of smeared lipstick and cloudy mascara tears, moaning endlessly on his fingers before working you open on his cock.

Never catch him thinking he wasn’t a giver. It was his second favorite sport.

“Pretty, pretty,” Jason murmurs against your neck, kissing along your flushed skin. “Pretty, pretty girl. Y’know what I want, huh? Give it to me.”

“C-C-Can’t,” you exhale, both your hands clutching his working forearm, needlessly crying out broken words and drawn out cries as the fire in your tense tummy threatened to burst.

“J-Jay, J-J-Jay, I-I can’t! S’too much!!”

“Come on, babygirl. Don’t be like that, give me what I want. Come on, baby. Come on, come on.”

He urges via lustfully hasty words in your right ear, bucking his fingers deeper and faster into your stretched walls, the palm of his calloused hand directly abusing your swollen, rosy little clit.

Your nails dig deeper into his forearm, deep enough to add onto his collection of angry scars as liquid heat surges through your veins. A collection of trembling cries erupted from your quivering, rouge smeared lips as his palm grew soaked.

He grunts out a pleased groan in tandem with yours, nearly drowned out by your whimpering as if he was the one that came, forcing every nerve in your body to shiver.

“There we go,” Jason cooes, working his fingers until he picks up on those irritated, little overstimulated whines he recognized by memory, telling him to slow down without use of words.

Only, your body didn’t give him what he wanted. Almost, but not yet.

He listened for now, retreating his fingers, lingering about to pry your soaked lips apart, biting back a deep growl at your soaked, gaping pink hole.

Never more than now did he want to stuff you full, but he was working for something a little more… eye catching.

He enjoyed what he saw right now; maroon lipstick smeared off the edges of your lips, transferred onto his the second he kissed you against your mirror. Pink scratches and dabbled love bites that would morph into rich, wine bruises littering your neck and shoulders.

Red, pure red from your blooming cheeks, aroused skin, sore breasts, and abused pussy.

A dirty, surface drenching show only your body could provide, ignited by his favorite hue of color, by any means necessary. So. why stop at four?

Without a word, Jason dips a finger back inside your cavern, feeling your body nearly wince from the intrusion, a low little whine escaping your deflated lungs.

“Jasooon,” you croak, your rising hips instantly jolted back against his lap by a strong grip on your hip, followed by the click of his tongue. “Please—“

“Not done yet, Princess,” he murmurs, kissing along your neck as his other finger joins in, expertly finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers, determined to go for five.

Blue wasn’t a good color on you anyway.

#Jason Todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader smut #dc jason todd #red means he loves you #get it #I’m so smart #also I suck at titles so when I think of drabbles #I put the time I start #so yeee

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f10werfae · 1 year ago

Text

A Daddy’s girl

pairing: Dad!Ari Levinson x Milf!Reader

summary: Dad!Ari and Milf!Reader give their babygirl her well needed bath and reward themselves with a bit of soft kissy sex (soft!dom!ari) (slight somnophilia/cockwarming)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/Disclaimer 18+

chris masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧Minors DNI, 18+ Below ୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“youre so perfect momma, so good to our precious” Ari mumbled into Y/n’s ear, hugging her closely from behind, one of his hands groping her breast greedily as her vest now had wet patches from her milk leaking through. “I want you to use me baby, take what you need from me okay? You deserve it” He whispered kissing down her nape, feeling her shiver and nuzzle her ass back onto him.

“awh hey babygirl, ya love bein’ with your momma don’t ya pretty girl” Ari cooed letting his hand run over his baby girl’s head, her cute little face grinning under the water as his wife gently poured water over her. At 2 months old she was the cutest tiny thing, Ari and Y/n were absolutely smitten with the life they had created, “Babe, babe look she’s doin’ that same face you do” Y/n giggled watching while her babygirl squirmed and formed that famous Levinson grump on her face.

Grabbing their camera from the bathroom counter Ari quickly snapped a shot of his best girls in the bathtub, his wife and babygirl so clearly full of love for each other, even though he was sure their babygirl was more likely milk drunk having just been breastfed by her momma, his perfect wife. “You’re so beautiful ya know that?” Leaning over the tub he let his forehead lean against Y/n’s his lips meeting hers briefly before their babygirl starting cooing again clearly not liking the fact she wasn’t the centre of attention.

“Hm it’s okay pretty you’re still momma’s number one angel, daddy’s just a stinky man” Y/n joked cuddling a now towel covered baby into her chest. “Stinky huh? Well if I remember right i’m not the one that’s shit herself twice today” Ari said giving his little girl the stink eye, her tiny fists already reaching out for him with her mouth opening for a little yawn to make its way out. Kissing her husband’s neck sloppily, Y/n got out of the bathtub after her daughter leaving Ari to dry and dress their babygirl.

“Youre so pretty ya know that? Yes you do” Setting her onto the changing table Ari quickly put on her diaper, “I know pretty its so cold out here isn’t it? Dada’s nearly done baby” He reassured her, watching as she reacted to the cold lotion on her skin, clearly wanting some warmth from her daddy. Choosing a soft blue onesies accompanied by her sleep snuggie, he got her all wrapped up and in his arm within minutes, her sweet soft baby scent filling his nostrils as he cupped her head against his broad shoulder.

Mini Levinson lifted her head up slightly giving her daddy the biggest set of puppy eyes before her head become too heavy and she had to set it back down; effectively pulling at his heartstrings once again. “You got those eyes from your momma, both of you got daddy under your spell, you’re daddy’s perfect lil angel, all mommy’s and mine’s” He whispered nuzzling his nose against hers, softly padding into their bedroom he spotted his wife changed and only wearing one of his oversized tanks.

“There’s my girl” Y/n cooed brushing out her hair, instantly putting the hairbrush down to rush over and pepper her mini me in kisses, the tiny tot soon finding comfort in the binky Y/n put in her mouth. The tiny suckling sounds filling the room as her eyes slowly shut, her fists grabbing tightly onto her daddy’s shirt.

“She loves her dada” Y/n whispered tucking her in tighter into her snuggie, “Hell yeah she does, she’s my babygirl” Ari whispered, “Wait for me in bed momma, i’ll put our little precious down for the night alright? You’ve done enough for us today” Without another word Ari found himself in the room next door, a pastel purple room filled with all the toys, books and necessities for their growing girl. Her bassinet sat right in the corner with no pillows or blankets, for safety reasons, but her cute little night light sat down by the floor giving her some comfort.

“See ya in the mornin’ sweetpea, daddy’s gonna miss ya tonight” Gently setting the half asleep Levinson into her bassinet, he patted her bottom and back for a few minutes to lull her into a deep sleep, until he finally found it okay to step out. Turning on the white noise machine he tiptoed back to their bedroom, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw his wife just cuddled up waiting for him on his side of the bed.

“Hey hotstuff don’t you look delicious” Ari chuckled crawling over to her, plopping himself right on top of her, his weight pinning her down in a comforting way. “You’re so funny, daddy” Y/n teased kissing his pink plump lips, letting her tongue mingle with his for a short wet kiss before he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck; his arms wrapping around her soft belly bringing her close against his chest. “momma ya know what that name does ta me, makes me wanna make you big n’ full of me again” He growled slowly grinding his hardening cock against her bare ass..

“I-i’m tired Ari baby, our baby boo had me running in circles today” She whined feeling her body start to calm, although a part of her felt the wetness start to pool around her thighs. “I know she did, our little girl tired herself out, was sleepin’ by the time I got her into the crib” He chuckled just softly humping their bodies together, her quiet whines and whimpers causing him to smile and kiss her out of pride.

“Need you inside honey, wanna feel you closer” Pulling Ari’s hand up inside her vest, she let it rest on her wet milky breasts, before using her hands to pull out his pre-cum leaking cock from inside his sweatpants. “feel the heat radiating from your pussy? all the love she has to give daddy” Both of them let out strained gasps once he slid in easily, knowing they hadn’t felt this close in weeks since their babygirl had most of their devoted attention. “I love you so much beautiful”

“I-I love you too Ari- fuck” Crying out her legs started to shake once Ari’s hand had snuck around and started to toy with her precious little button, her swollen clit begging to be played with as it stood proud out of her thick lips. “Don’t touch there d-“ Ari’s fingers slowly and carefully traced over the stretch marks which now littered her stomach and thighs, something he knew had thrown her off.

“They mean a lot to me so let me love them as if they're mine and not yours." He whispered back, feeling her pussy clench around his cock every few seconds, signifying that she was nearing her finish. To stimulate her even further his thick fingers found her wet hard nipples, tugging at them to squirt more milk out onto the vest which now clung to her like a swimsuit; no doubt their bedsheets were now soaked.

“M’gonna cum babe, so bad” Y/n whimpered reaching back to cling onto the hair at the back of Ari’s neck, her voice muffled as Ari stuck his milk soaked fingers into her mouth before putting it into his, “Milk tastes so good momma” Their bodies rocked and humped without abandon, the sound of skin slapping filled the room, the cool air conditioning preventing them from becoming stuffy. It only took a few more seconds before the band in her stomach snapped and she creamed all over his cock, him in turn filling her to the brim, a cream mixture collecting at the base of his cock.

“You want me to pull out baby? or plug you up with my cock and keep you full”

“Stay, I want you to stay in me daddy” She shuddered trying to shuffle back, trying to stuff more of him inside her, keeping her warm and stuffed just like she wanted. Eventually the both of them fell asleep, with him slowly fucking her throughout the night, even finding himself being fucked awake when she rode him at the first sign of daylight just before their parental duties came into full swing. God how he loved his woman.

———-

psa: sorry updating took so long🫶 Hope you all enjoy some dad!ari

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

taglist tags: @pandaxnienke @patzammit @starsignbaby8809 @its-murphy-time @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @inlovewithfictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @fdl305 @mirikusashes @marvelgurl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @uwiuwi @adoreyouusugar @imboredat2am @cevansgurl @meetmeatyourworst @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @s-void @aerangi @roofwitty779 @ravenhood2792 @alina02 @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @angelmather1 @bval-1 @stuckysgirl27 @wintasssoldier @daddymack01 @acornacre @thebaileybugle @seungcheol17daddy

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #ari levinson x female reader #chris evans x female reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x milf!reader #dad!ari levinson #dad!ari #chris evans smut #ari levinson fluff #chris evans fluff #chris evans oneshot #ari levinson x f!reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x you

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zyafics · 2 months ago

Note

I love your fics 🫶🏾 do you have any recommendations

hi baby!! omg, thank you so much, and i definitely do have recs!

this isn't an exhaustive list, btw, these r just people i can think off the top of my head. i have a rec account where i reblog my fav fics and whatnot w reviews + commentary @zyafics-recs

@nadvs ONE OF THE BEST RAFE WRITERS, she is the reason why i got introduced into fanfic writing and the reason why i actually wrote today! i love all of her series and her entire masterlist has anything u could ever look for—from fluff, to smut, to angst. it's all there! personal favorites are cam girl and home before dark!

@itneverendshere MY PERSONAL FAVORITE WRITER AND MY ABSOLUTE LOVELY GIGI, i am her biggest fan (will fight u for this position 🔪) and whenever i feel down, or lacking motivation, she is the reason to help me get motivated! she's such a lovely person, and her prose, dialogues and descriptions are to die for. if u like my written fics, i say gigi and have pretty ~similar~ writing style. she also can have ANYTHING ur craving—from canonverse plots, to aus, to fluff, to smut, to angst, EVERYTHING! my personal favorites that got me invested into her work is her thornton!reader with rafe, the other side of paradise (maybank!reader and rafe, lowkey canon, lowkey not), and love you at your worst. also i requested a lot of hockey!rafe from her, so if you love athlete!rafe, she's definitely ur girl!!

@aliyahwritings my bABYGIRL FR—she currently has this series called the contracted heart, which is about model!reader and athlete!rafe and it's to die for. if you love banters—especially if you love witty banter back and forth—this is your girl. if any of you read the addicted series, and loved rose and connor, they lowkey mirror that dynamic. on top of her amazing dialogues/banters, she has such rich representation of desi!reader. like she isn't afraid of portraying explicitly BIPOC readers which i admire so much from her.

@whytheylosttheirminds okay listen, NAT has one of the richest descriptions of storytelling that evokes such a personal level to you. whenever i enter her storytelling, she has such details and beautiful imagery, i actually have to stop reading just to admire it. i'm still digesting her masterlist, but my personal recs are: blue sweater, snooze, and i remember everything!

@starkeysprincess one of the sweetest people on this platform, i absolutely devoured her kinktober fics, but one thing about shania is that she writes every scenario of rafe—from doctor, to handyman, to stepbrother, etc!—and she does it so well. her smut is so fun, and dynamic, especially with their dialogues, and it's so easy to digest her fics in one setting (be warned fr)

@erwinsvow ok i absolutely ADORE the way shea writes, ok?? like everything she puts out, i eat UP!! especially when she written her long fics, aint nothing better for me (toxic!rafe), all mine, bitchy!reader and rafe, and my heart and soul that i religiously reread every week got what u wanted <3

@ilyrafe one of my favorite writing pieces and introduction to analysis of rafe, is by gabi. she has this wonderful mini series (late night and early morning) that perfectly slows down the relationship of rafe and reader and the intensity of his character. if u wanna read more about how he sees the world, and why his character acts the way it does, gabi does is so successful. she also has a hitman!rafe currently in the progress, which i know just released a pt2, i am gonna to read it soon, promise!

@softspiderling okay ELLE HAS EVERYTHING!! she has smaus, to written works, to series, to oneshots, i'm obsessed with everything she puts out, especially because it's so intriguing and the way she writes just leaves me craving more. i would personally rec ocean blue eyes (smau), illicit affairs (best friends to fwb to lovers) and think you’re a genius (you drive me up the wall) <3

if u want more social media aus—

@ghostofwriting has one that is the reason why hb:l is alive today. kildare split is about a band au with rafe and reader and they had drama. and she's also currently writing one about biker!rafe and book influencer!reader, which is so fun, witty, and filled with drama. i absolutely adore kildare split, and it will always have a special place in my heart bc it's my first introduction to smaus <3

@sematarygirls ohmygod, i am currently obsessed with salt & secrets. it's actually magnificent, especially the graphics. the efforts sol puts into them is so detailed and telling, u can see it's made with love. but the PLOT!!! the way the story moves, the way it's a gossip site and reader is a huge instigator. this fun enemies-to-lovers feud between them (that i'm still wondering if the reason reader is targeting rafe means something more 🤨) and the COMMENTS AND BANTERS!! reader is so hilarious. all the characters are so funny and witty, it's definitely something to read to soothe the angst and tension from hb:l LOL 💘

@rafeskai i'm also currently reading this smau about reader and rafe having a little thing before she moved away for college, and she came back! it's so interesting, especially because kai mixes multimedia and written work in one place, so u get to experienced both!

lastly, this is for sarah cameron specifically, but @spellewrites! she's currently working on this smau about sarah cameron and f!reader and i'm excited to see how it goes, especially because sarah is dating(?) topper, reader's brother.

#asks #rec asks

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amirasainz · 3 months ago

Note

Do you know the video.of the little Asian girl crying because the school gave her so much homework and the dad comforting her?

Could you do one where it is Lewis and his little daughter. She arrives later to the race week with her Nanny and is crying because of homework. Lewis comforting her while also trying to hold his laughter. Can you also add George and the Mercedes team (maybe they are in a meeting?)

Thank youuuu❤️❤️

Ok, so because I am getting a lot of Lewis daughter requests, I finally gave her a name. Hailey Hamilton (super cute in my opinion)

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

A father's comfort

The early morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Mercedes team headquarters, casting a warm glow on the sleek, modern meeting room. Inside, the air was thick with the tension of strategy and the relentless pursuit of perfection. Lewis, flanked by Toto and George, was deep in conversation about the upcoming race weekend. They discussed tire strategies, car setups, and team dynamics, each voice blending into a symphony of high-pressure motorsport.

Suddenly, the meeting room door swung open with a loud thud, cutting through the serious atmosphere. All heads turned as a small figure burst into the room. It was Hailey, Lewis’s four-year-old daughter, her face streaked with tears, her bright pink backpack bouncing against her back. Her eyes widened when she spotted her father, and without hesitation, she ran straight into his arms.

“Daddy!” she cried, burying her face into his chest, her tiny body trembling with sobs. “I don’t want to do my homework! It’s too hard!”

Lewis’s heart melted as he enveloped her in his strong embrace, a protective barrier against the world’s worries. He glanced at Toto and George, whose expressions mirrored his surprise but quickly transformed into amusement. The rest of the team members looked on with a mix of sympathy and barely contained laughter.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweet pea,” Lewis said softly, holding her close. “What’s all this about homework?” He could feel her small frame shaking with every hiccup, and he fought to keep a straight face, finding it hard not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Hailey pulled back just enough to look up at him, her big brown eyes shimmering with tears. “I have to color two pages and remember a poem, but it’s too many things! I don’t want to!” she whimpered, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Homework can be tough, can’t it?” Lewis said, trying to soothe her with gentle words. “But I bet you can do it. You’re so smart, just like your daddy.” He glanced over at Toto, who nodded in agreement, a smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor.

“I can help you with the coloring later, Hailey,” Toto added, leaning down to her level, his voice warm and inviting. “And the poem, too. What’s the poem about?”

Hailey sniffled, her little face scrunching up as she tried to remember. “It’s about a butterfly… it flutters and flies,” she mumbled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“That sounds beautiful!” George chimed in, crouching down beside her. “Butterflies are so pretty! Maybe you could draw a butterfly for your coloring pages. We can make it the biggest and best one ever!” He flashed her a bright smile, trying to distract her from her tears.

Hailey looked between her father and the two men, still clutching Lewis tightly. “But I just want to play! I don’t want to do homework!” she cried again, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I know, love,” Lewis said gently, his heart aching for her. “But what if we make a deal? If you finish your homework, we can go for ice cream after the race. How does that sound?” His voice was soothing, and he brushed her hair back from her forehead, trying to comfort her.

“Ice cream?” she repeated, her eyes lighting up slightly through the tears. “With sprinkles?”

“Of course! And chocolate sauce, if you want it,” Lewis promised, laughing softly now, his heart swelling at the sight of his little girl. “But first, we’ve got to tackle that homework, alright?”

“Okay…” she sniffled, her voice softening as she glanced around the room, taking in the chuckles from the team members who were trying unsuccessfully to maintain a professional demeanor. “But it’s still so hard!” she pouted, climbing onto Lewis's lap as he settled back into his chair.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he said, holding her close. “We can color one page together first, and then you can practice the poem. I’ll even help you memorize it! How does that sound?”

Hailey wiped her eyes on his shirt, her face lighting up just a bit at the thought of doing it with him. “You’ll help me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, Hailey. I’m always here to help you, no matter what,” he assured her, holding her tighter. As he spoke, she rested her head against his chest, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Daddy?” she murmured sleepily, a hint of a smile appearing as she felt safe in his embrace.

“Yes, love?” he replied softly, gently stroking her back.

“Can we read a story after?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper now, fatigue washing over her.

“Absolutely. We’ll read as many stories as you want,” Lewis promised, smiling at her. “But first, we’ve got to get you to finish that homework, okay?”

Hailey didn’t respond; instead, she let out a small yawn and nuzzled into his chest, her small form relaxing against him. The room fell silent, the earlier tension replaced by the warm, tender moment unfolding between father and daughter.

The sight of Lewis holding his daughter, her little body curling up as she fell asleep, made the team erupt in laughter, the sound echoing off the walls. Even Toto struggled to maintain his composure, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“I think she’s out, Lewis,” Toto chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’d say we’ve officially lost her to the nap,” George added, unable to hide his smile. “What a way to end the meeting!”

Lewis looked down at his daughter, her peaceful face nestled against him, and couldn’t help but laugh himself. “Guess I’m going to have to finish that homework for her,” he said, his voice light with amusement. “But I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.”

As the laughter continued to bounce around the room, Lewis sat quietly with Hailey, knowing that despite the chaos of the race weekend, there was nothing more important than these little moments with his daughter.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lewis hamilton x daughter!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #f1 x female reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#dad!lewis hamilton #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader

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lesbojournals · 10 months ago

Text

Clean Shaven (Stucky x Reader)

Based on this post:

You thought you were surprising the boys with your new haircut.

You had just got it done at the salon, thrilled with your decisions. You had a happy bounce in your step, jingling your keys as you ran up the stairs to get to your shared apartment with Steve and Bucky.

You opened the door with a loud, “I’m home!”

You turned to the kitchen counter to put down your stuff, and heard footsteps approach. With a big smile on your face, you spun around. At the sight of Steve your smile dropped to a small “o” face.

His once thick beard that you adored was completely gone from his face, his cheeks and chin smooth as ever.

He smiled at you cheekily. “Nice haircut sweetheart.”

You stuttered, butterflies in your stomach at your boyfriend’s face. “What did you-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bucky walked in, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Oh, beautiful hair darling.” He noted, and came up to you for a quick peck.

Your eyes must’ve been bulging out of your head, because one thing you never expected was for Bucky to shave. You’d seen old pictures of Steve in his early Cap phases, but you didn’t even know Bucky existed without facial hair. He looked astonishing.

Both of your boyfriends chuckled at you, and you shook your head a few times to get out of your stupor.

“Something wrong, babygirl?” Bucky asked, still smiling like an idiot.

“You both shaved !!” You exclaimed. “What’s the occasion?”

Bucky went to grab a glass of water, leaning next to you on the counter. Steve was the one who answered you.

“Just wanted to surprise you, but it looks like you had the same idea with the hair.” Steve mentioned.

You turned next to Bucky and raised a hand to his cheek, his eyes completely amused at your actions.

“So soft.” You commented.

Your cheeks heated at the idea that popped into your head, and Steve noticed immediately. Bucky smirked with a knowing smile.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Steve tilted his head innocently.

You shook your head negatively. “It’s nothing.”

Bucky poked at your cheek. “I think I know what it is, huh?”

Steve glanced at Bucky then at you again, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed, embarassed. “It’s just…it’ll feel different.”

“It?” Steve asked, still lost.

Bucky had the biggest smile on his face, it would’ve been cute if you weren’t so flustered.

“You know…”

Steve’s ears turned red at the realization. “You mean…?”

You looked away.

Bucky turned your face to look him in the eyes. “Why don’t we test that theory?”

#stucky x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #stucky #marvel #winter soldier

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lxvemaze · 4 months ago

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Hi my love, i just saw the tall reader x skz and can you also do tall reader x ateez hcs please 🙏 they heal me hahaha

ahhh absolutely!!! i loved writing the skz ones!! hope you like these<3

ateez with a tall!s/o

pairing' ot8 x reader

genre' fluff

warnings' wee bit suggestive in wooyoungs

a/n' i felt silly

⚝hongjoong

he don't give a FUUUUUUUCK. your height difference was never something he took into consideration. even when you first started dating, he just didn't really think about it. that being said; if anyone ever tries to make fun of your height difference, he will shut it down IMMEDIATELYYYYYYY. you will not get a single second to be insecure about your height, bc he will always let you know how much he loves you 😚 doesn't matter how much shorter than you he is, he will always be big spoon. he wants you to know that he will always take care of and love you, no matter what comments or looks you guys get from others.

⚝seonghwa

while hongjoong doesn't really care, seonghwa LOOOOVES your height. he is sososo obsessed with you. he treats you like an actual angel. he will do anything and everything you ask of him. anytime anyone's like "lol your girlfriend's taller than you" he's like "yeah she is (●´ω｀●)" just absolutely enamored. he loves it when you wear heels so he has to crane his neck a bit to make eye contact with you. makes him all giggly :3 sometimes you two will be standing somewhere maybe in like, a line at a coffee shop or smth, and you'll look over to him and he's just staring up at you with the biggest heart eyes. he is just so in love.

⚝yunho

bro was absolutely SHOCKED when he first met you. he's already really tall, so meeting a girl that was taller than him???? made him feel all nervous and silly. when you first met, he probably didn't know if he was scared of you or really into you. you probably asked him out first bc you made him too nervous 🥹 in a relationship, he's probably soooo proud that his girlfriend is taller than him- like, he's just astonished that he bagged a taller girl in the first place. bro may be the sweetest boy in the world, but if anyone makes a negative comment about your height, he will FIGHT. no one can comment on his tall queen ☝️

⚝yeosang

yeosang sees you as the single most beautiful person in the world. he absolutely loves the fact that you're taller than him. this man is the biggest little spoon in the world- he loves being cuddled by you and feeling all safe and secure. tbh, i honestly think that your height was one of the first things about you that he was attracted to, and i don't think he expected that at first, but he's literally obsessed with you.

⚝san

i've said it before, and i'll say it again; san is the single most respectful and loving man on the planet. i don't think he ever expected to be into a taller girl, i think he always pictured himself with a girl shorter than him, but after he met you, all those thoughts of being with a shorter girl went straight out the window. as soon as he met you, he was obsessed with you and your height. literally refuses to let you be insecure. anytime you say one thing even slightly self-deprecating about your height, he will give you ten separate reasons why he loves your height.

⚝mingi

bro was whipped as soon as he met you. mingi may act like a freaky deaky fuckboy sometimes, but he is a loverboy at heart, ya'll. when you first met, he tried to act all cool and suave to impress you, but you saw right through him 😭 he's just so silly around you. he knows what it's like to be tall and that when you're tall, people see you as a lot scarier than you are, and he realizes that it's probably even worse for you being as tall of a girl as you are. so he tries his best to be as soft as possible, and treat you like a princess. will fight you so he can be the big spoon. he just likes to cuddle you and make you feel safe :3

⚝wooyoung

oh, you already know babygirl loves it. we already know that he likes to get bossed around 💀 so you being taller than him is really just the icing on the cake. absolutely obsessed with you. whenever you two are walking in public together, he will be attached to your arm the entire time with that smug grin on his face. he absolutely loves when he introduces you to people, and they're just kind of in shock at your height. side note- he loves reaching up to grab your face and pull you down into a kiss (◍•ᴗ•◍) he also loves to play fight with you, like, wrestle with you. and then pinning you down to show you that just bc you're taller than him and act like you're the lead in public doesn't mean that he won't put you in your place in private WHOOPS (he is never beating the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 allegations)

⚝jongho

real morticia and gomez vibes in this relationship. he literally worships you. he absolutely loves it when you wear heels omg, he just loves it when you embrace your height. he likes to buy you beautiful expensive heels and dresses and take you out for fancy dinners and show you off 😋 he's just so in love with you, literally no comment that anyone could make would make him think twice about how he loves your height difference. he likes to have a hand on your waist, or have you hold his arm when you're in public. bro loves his tall queen to the end of time and wants everyone to know that you're his💪

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akutasoda · 10 months ago

Note

The voices in my head fighting with each other to decide what live language each male character has;

Argenti: words of affirmation (no one is impressed)

I mean, this one is so obvious lmao 😭 that man will spend HOURS just complimenting you and saying how beautiful you are and stuff. He is your number-one fan and simp.

Jing Yuan: Physical touch (nobody saw that coming omg)

This guy is 24/7 glued to you. You two are walking? One arm wrapped around your waist or shoulder or he's holding your hand. Mid work? Good luck trying to! This man is probably hugging your back or nuzzling his face against you. At home? You are NOT leaving the bed, not when two giant cats are squishing you. (Mimi got jealous and joined)

Blade: I would say its either quality time or physical touch.

We all know Blade doesn't talk too much, neither does he know how to express his feelings well.

So, in my opinion, he enjoys spending time alone with you. No need to talk or something, he just wants to have your presence next to him.

Physical touch is more by the fact that when you two get REALLY close, he becomes more touch-starved. This man is in dire need of comfort in his life and I feel he would seek that by constantly having his hand touching you.

Gepard: (there was a war happening in my head to decide this one) Quality time, words of affirmation or acts of service.

Can we consider this man a malewife or he's still babygirl? (LMFOAOAOAO)

Gepard doesn't have much time to spend idly in his life, having to constantly deal with possible threats, guarding, or training recruits takes a lot of time and energy. So I feel like quality time and physical touch would go together for when he's finally free to spend time with you.

He finally has some time to spend with you and Gepard is not going to waste it. That man is following you around like a lost cat. He just wants to be around you for as long as he can.

While being rather shy, I think Gepard would like to constantly be touching you. Either be simple hand-holding or cuddling.

This man likes to help you around the house, helping you clean, cook, etc. Gepard wants to show you that he cares and is here to help you either inside with mundane things or outside by protecting you.

Dan Heng: IT'S QUALITY TIME YALL TRUST ME IM HOYOVERSE /j

This poor guy has been through way too much recently, please just let him stay near you for an undisclosed amount of time. Just the two of you alone while he reads for you (or you read for him), having a quiet tea moment as he just hears you yap about how your day was. He just needs to be near you. Please don't deny him this.

i can get behind all of these.

and i feel like gepard is definitely a malewife and a babygirl, he can only be both. i personally feel quality time is probably his biggest mainly because while he does do acts of service, he feels it's too much like his work and fears you'd only see that as him doing his duty as captain and not yout lover. words of affirmation are the same.

don't mind me adding some of my favs-

gallagher - similarly i feel gallagher would be like gepard in that sense. he is one hundred percent quality time as his job as security under the bloodhound family gives him very little time to be with you. and while he definitely gives you gifts often, he sometimes feels as though he's only doing it out of obligation and not genuine affection and so when he does give you gifts he makes sure you know how much he cares about you. he's also a classic romantic.

luocha - i feel he would only be quality time if you didn't travel with him. but otherwise he would be acts of service or maybe physical touch. travelling with him would mean he'd always keep an eye out for you and ensure your comfort and safety and so if you ever wanted to do something anywhere he'd make it happen. physical touch would be minimum but it's still something he'd want, and im mainly talking about how he'd just want to hold your hand. like constantly. he'd need that reassurance that your safe.

aventurine - i'd have to say he's physical touch and words of affirmation, perhaps quality time but i'd mainly go with the previous two. physical touch mainly because he needs it, after he's finally found someone he can trust and be himself around, he needs that reassurance that your here. that your real and in his arms, someone who can love him. which would also be where words of affirmation would come in, i would say he'd very much need it to be both ways. after all the struggles and hardships he's been through he needs those words of reassurance and a part of him would want to ensure you also have that same happiness in knowing how much he appreciates you.

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corrodedcoffins-blog · 1 year ago

Text

The First Meeting

main masterlist

spencer reid x famous!reader Universe

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: stalking, murder, character asking to die (if I missed something please let me know)

Today was supposed to be an easy day for the BAU. It was a paperwork day, no case, no one dying on their watch.

These were some of Spencer's favourite days, don’t get him wrong he loves being in the field and profiling killers, and when they arrest an unsub, that’s the best feeling.

But having days every now and again where they don’t have to travel and Spencer can read and reflect on their previous case, he greatly enjoys it. And he can’t say he’s the only one, but he can say he’s the only one that uses paperwork days to do paperwork.

Penelope walks in the glass doors humming a tune, foreign to Spencer.

“You got that James Dean day dream, hmm hm mhmmm, I got that red lip classic”

“What’s got you so happy, babygirl?” Derek says, from across Spencer.

“Um, because The Met Gala is tonight! Biggest night in Fashion! And no case means I can watch it.”

“Oh, I must have forgot to put it on my calendar.” Derek, sarcastically remarks while getting up and out of his chair on his way to refill his coffee cup. All the while JJ comes rushing the bullpen, giving the rest of her co-workers a sympathetic face.

“Just when I thought, we would have an easy day.” Emily mumbles getting out her desk chair and walking away with JJ.

“Wally Melman, a music producer in New York, was killed two weeks ago, and Natali Ryan , a singer and songwriter, was killed 4 days ago also in New York.” JJ says while the screen behind her shows pictures of the crime scene.

“The police said they found pictures with the victim's face with ‘You’re Next’ written in red marker across their face. Suspected to have gotten in the mail.”

“And why have they called us now?” Derek says, clearing knowing there was more JJ was going to say but wanting her to get to it quicker.

“Yesturday, another singer/songwriter, by the name of Y/n L/n-”

“Oh. My God!” Penny interrupts JJ, having come in to tell the team an update she had gotten from the NYPD. “uh- sorry, I’m sorry.. Um, the NYPD wants a couple of us to go straight to the crime scene once we land, and that the next vic- uh Y/n L/n I suppose- is at the station waiting.” Penny says, turning and leaving after finishing her sentence.

“Okay everyone, wheels up in 30. JJ can fill us in on the jet.”

When the team arrived in New York, Hotch sent Rossi and Emily to the recent crime scene, and JJ to talk to the media, while himself, Spencer, and Derek went to the station.

When the three got to the station they were shown the note Y/n had gotten from the unsub, different to the others, hers having ‘You Owe Me’ written across her face instead. The team walked into the room they were told Y/n would be in.

Spencer knew she would be pretty, everyone in Hollywood was gorgeous that’s how it worked, but this girl was easily the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon, even with her bleached hair that he could assume was a split second decision.

She sat on a chair next to one of the officers' desks, as if she was like everyone else and not a world-wide popstar. Y/n and her manager Joe look up, hearing footsteps walk into the room. She stood up to shake Hotch’s hand.

“Hi, I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you and thank you so much.” “Of course”

She goes to shake Derek hand, saying a greeting similar to the one she gave Hotch, then she comes face to face with Spencer, or possibly- not definitely the most beautiful man she has ever seen, sticking out her hand she says, “Hi, nice to meet you..”

“Dr. Spencer Reid- or just Spencer, you don’t have to call me doctor.” “Nice to meet you Spencer.” Y/n stays looking at Spencer maybe a second longer than she should have. It’s just so hard to look away from a man that beautiful. When Y/n does finally look away, she takes a seat and they begin their questioning.

“How well do you know Natalie Ryan?”

“Uh, we talked when we were at the same events and were always friendly, but we weren’t friends.”

“How about Wally Melman?”

“What?”

“Wally Melman, he was a producer who was killed a couple months ago.” Spencer jumps in, making Y/n turn to address him, while she asks her next statement .

“The paper said that it was a robbery.” “The paper was wrong.” Derek responded quickly.

“Did you know him?” Hotch asks, wanting to get back to the questions he has for Y/n.

“I wanted to work with him on my last album, but he started working with..” Y/n cut herself off.

“Who?” Spencer asks concernedly, seeing the scared look on Y/n's face.

“Natalie Ryan, and they beat Y/n for song of the year” Joe says while Y/n is setting her face to rest in her hands, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Do you ever have the feeling that someone is following you, or watching you?” Derek asks.

“Only every second I spend outside my house. I have fans, and paparazzi following me everywhere. It’s part of the job.”

“Do you ever get repetitive phone calls, hang ups, or gifts sent anonymously?” Spencer asks.

“I receive flowers, Lilies, my favourite. The seventh of each month they get sent to each of my homes, they just show up on the doorstep. Never a note, nothing.”

After a few more of their questions it just becomes too much, knowing that these people are being killed because of her or ‘for’ her and Y/n gets up and leaves the room. Not being able to actually leave given the cameras outside, she doesn’t get too far. And Spencer is right behind her.

“Y/n wait!”

“Can you explain what the hell is going on?”

“Well, it’s still rather speculative, but it appears there’s a delusional assassin who’s killing people to help further your career. It probably started as a stalker. An erotomaniac stalker. There’s a psychopathology of the evolution of these types of stalkers and the fact that he’s contacting you indicates that he believes you owe him something. This model frequently concludes itself with one of two possibilities, either the stalker will kill himself or he’ll kill the object of his affection.”

If Spencer wasn’t talking about the possibility of Y/n’s untimely death, she would have had more time to find Spencer’s rambling and seemingly never ending knowledge hot.

Y/n had gotten home from her time at the station, hoping to be able to relax as she has the Met tomorrow night. But when she had gotten to her front door the yellow notepad paper taped onto it caught her eye.

After reading the note she called the station immediately. The BAU had arrived looking over the note, Y/n was in the room but not listening, she onlys snaps back into listening to the conversations when she hears Spencer.

“In English?” one of the officers asks.

“That is English actually.” Y/n smiles at that, while Spencer continues, getting cut off by Derek not too far into his explanation. Y/n finally speaks up, after the team starts talking about how she should continue, as if she isn’t there.

“I’m standing right here guys..”

“If we did remove you from the street, you couldn’t stay here, we would have to take you to an undisclosed location.”

“I have a fitting here in 30 mins, and the Met tonight, then I’m all yours. Look, I don't want to be afraid of this lunatic.”

"We can clear all but essential personnel, and up your security.”

“Derek and Spencer will stay here with you.”

“Okay.”

The team getting Y/n ready for the Met have set up, Y/n just finished getting hair and makeup done in just her underwear and a robe. Spencer walks up to Y/n while she’s opening a greenhouse ginger shot to drink.

“I’m sorry if I was insensitive earlier.” Spencer says, referring to when he followed her outside of the questioning room and told her there was a possibility this stalker/assassin guy will kill her, just a tad insensitive.

But nonetheless Y/n responds with, “It’s fine, you were just doing your job, right?” “Yeah.” Y/n takes her ginger shot with a look of remorse on her face. She reaches for the soda in Spencer’s hand, to wash it down.

“You don’t mind sharing with me do you?” Spencer quickly shakes his head mumbling a quick ‘no’ while Y/n’s team calls her to get into the dress, Y/n takes off the robe she was wearing, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen, then throwing the robe over a nearby chair. Now standing in just her underwear she smiles at Spencer before walking over to the team helping her get into the dress.

Leaving Spencer to watch her as she subtly sways her hips slightly more than usual when she walks. Spencer takes a sip of the soda Y/n had handed back after taking a sip, Derek coming over to tease Spencer about the scene he just watched.

“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” “Shut up.” Spencer says as he walks away. “Go get ‘em, lover.”

Y/n didn’t get to stay at the Met nearly as long as she wished. With double the security and Spencer there with her, she knew she wouldn’t have the night she was hoping for, but maybe something close.

But as she danced with Tom Hiddleston, Spencer got the call to take her to the safe house. Spencer didn’t really want to interrupt Y/n dancing on who he assumes is another famous person, but he had to, for her safety.

“Um- Y- Y/n we have to go.” Spencer says while struggling to gain her attention.

“Really?” “Yeah..” “Okay” she sighs, turning to Tom, mumbling an apology and some fake excuse.

They got to Y/n's home. Spencer rambling about safety measures Y/n should take. “You should also probably change all your phone numbers.” “I’m unlisted.” “Anytime you call an 800 number or an 888 number your phone number’s put into a data bank that’s then sold to telemarketers. If someone gets your cell phone number they can go online and research all your records.”

Y/n looks at Spencer expecting him to continue, but when he doesn’t she assumes he’s done, and gets up to walk into her kitchen, saying as she gets up, “You’re very cute when you ramble.” Causing Spencer to freeze but when she turns the corner out of his sight he rushes to keep up with her.

“You should also probably carry a piece of paper and a pen with you wherever you go in case you see any suspicious licence plates that often reappear.” Spence trails of looking closely at a collage hung up on Y/n’s wall

“It’s a photographic collage. I like how obscure it is.”

“You should also get a dog. Like a guard dog of some sort.” Spencer says, staring intently at the collage but not acknowledging what Y/n said about it.

“I don’t think so, I'm a cat person. Dogs are not for me… Earl grey good?”

“Wha- what?”

“Tea, do you want some tea?”

“Uh yes, yes sure.”

“Okay” Y/n says smiling at his nervousness.

Y/n walks into the living room, in her swimsuit with a robe overtop, coming to stand next to Spencer while he stares intently at the picture collage on Y/n’s wall.

“Are you feeling anything?” “There is something definitely appealing about it.” “That’s a start” Y/n says while chuckling.

Turning on her heels towards the back door to the pool. This catches Spencer’s actions wondering what she's doing, he asks, “What are you doing?” “Going for a swim.” Y/n responds nonchalantly. “What? No, Y/N!” Spencer yells following her, but before he can reach her she dives into the pool.

Swimming up to the surface and wiping her face with her hands. She looks so gorgeous, she looks like a movie star, which is not far off. But Spencer really shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful she is when he’s job is to keep her safe, and her being out here is not safe.

“Y/n, you cannot do this.” “Just a few minutes?” She ‘asks’ while giving Spencer puppy dog eyes. “Go get a suite in the house.” “What? No, I’m not going to grab a suit. Are you kidding me? No.” Spencer says in that high pitched tone he does, she’s only heard it once before, but she can’t help but find it so cute.

“Join me.” “No, I’m going to join you.” “Why not?” “You’re being pursued by a psychotic killer who shoots people in the head!” “I’m not going to stop living my life because of him.” Y/n turns to float in the water. “Y/n, I’m begging you. Will you please get out of the pool?”

“Come on, Spence, you should live a little.” “Live a little? I’ve not known you for 24 hours, I feel like I’ve already aged 10 years.” “Ugh, I can’t be that bad.” “Yes, you are that bad.” Y/n turns off of her back and starts to swim to the edge of the pool Spencer is standing at.

“Fine, but can you help me out at least?” She says putting on an innocent face as if she really did want help out of the pool. When Spencer leans down to grab her hand to help her up, Y/n pulls him into the pool causing a big splash following after Spencer falls in.

Which then causes a laugh to come from Y/n as Spencer rises to the water's surface.

“Yes, very funny. Laugh it up, Y/n. Hilarious. My gun’s wet. That’s just great” Spencer swims to the edge to get his gun out of the water, Y/n swimming behind him, still chuckling.

“My clothes.” “I told you to grab a suit.”

While Spencer looks down at his wet chest, Y/n’s hand comes to rest on his peck, causing Spencer to look up at Y/n. When he looks at her, she is already looking in his eyes, her eyes asking the question ‘do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?’ the answer being ‘yes’ as Spencer starts to lean in. Not knowing what he’s doing, leaning in to kiss Y/n L/n global superstar? Who does he think he is, thinking she would want to kiss him? But contrary to Spencer's beliefs, Y/N leans in too, pulling his body closer to hers faster by his tie. As their lips collide, it feels as if the world slows down. For the first time in a long time Y/n feels normal, regular, ordinary, in the best possible way. She feels in the way Spencer's lips are moving against hers that he doesn’t want her for her fame, or looks, but for her. Just her. But then Spencer pulls away. It had only been a couple seconds, how could a kiss that short hold that much emotion? Spencer’s words stop her from thinking too much.

“This is completely inappropriate.” “Spence..” Y/n looks into Spencer's eyes only looking away when she closes them and pulls him into another kiss, by his tie. This kiss, still sweet and emotion filled, yet rougher, as if they had gotten that much more comfortable now versus 15 seconds ago. Their lips move together roughly, Y/n tongue brushing Spencer’s lips looking for access, which causes Spencer to move his lips back from Y/n’s again. “No, there’s this thing called transference.” Spencer says, all the while Y/n is trying to recover from the best kiss of her life, and Spencer has no idea. “Do you not like me?” “What?” Spencer says quickly like him not liking her, and is just the most insane idea in the world, and truthfully that’s not far off. “Was that kiss not good?” “No- no it was very good.” “Because I like you.” “I like you too. It’s just I’m a federal agent. You know. And I’m supposed to protect you.” “Then you should keep me close.” Y/n mumbles moving her lips to Spencers again. Spencer pulls back to start talking again, as Y/N’s kisses move to his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin every so often, the first nibble causing Spencer to let out a surprised noise that quickly turns into a moan. “I’m just, hmm.. I’m a little worried, you know? We’re in a pool.” “Are we?” “And it’s uh.. We’re pretty much exposed.” Y/n moves to give Spencer's lips a quick peck, before responding to his concerns. “We have cops. We have cops posted out front.” Y/n cuts herself off to kiss Spencer again, “There are coyotes out back.” Y/n pauses looking at Spencer’s lips, while licking her own, then shooting her eyes up to Spencer’s “And then it’s just you and me.” Y/n moves her lips to be hovering over Spencer’s their noses rubbing against each other, it feels much more intimate than just kissing him, breathing in the after shave and cologne mixed with chlorine soaked into his skin is a smell Y/n would never get sick of, no matter how much she hated the smell of chlorine. She moves her lips back to the spot she found on his neck that makes him the most reactive. “Stop- I have to tell you something.” “What?” “I didn’t want to tell you this before, because I was a little bit worried… I didn’t know how to say it, but I can’t not tell you.” “Spence, just tell me. What is it?” “Your manager, Joe… Hotch went to check on him, but he got there too late.” Y/n looks into Spencer’s eyes any ounce of a look that would tell her he wasn’t serious. Because Joe couldn’t be dead. Not because of her, Joe was like family, no matter how weird he was. Joe was always there. Y/n turns away not being able to look at Spencer, “How could you-” She turns back to him, looking Spencer in the eyes as she aks, “How could you not tell me?” “I was afraid you’d be upset.” “You knew? How could you know and not tell me?” “Y/n, I’m so sorry” Y/n moves towards the edge of the pool to pull herself out, Spencer trying to help her. “Don’t- Don’ touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” Y/n gets out walking back into the house with a towel around herself, leaving Spencer in the pool.

Spencer walks into Y/n’s living room, seeing her sitting on her couch crying, he wants to comfort her. Just don't know how. “Y/n?...Are you still… Are you okay?” “Joe was like family.” Hearing Y/n cry hurts Spencer more than he thought possible from a girl he met not even 24 hours ago. “It’s just so hard to trust people in this industry, you don’t know who to believe.Everybody wants something from you. And I felt- I thought you were different.” “I know I should have told you.” “I told him not to.” Rossi cuts in having heard most of the conversation from behind Spencer. “He was only following my orders.” Rossi pats Spencer's shoulder while leaving the room. “The last time I could really trust people was when I moved to Nashville.” Y/n says, all the while Spencer is decoding the picture collage on Y/n’s wall. “Nashville, you said you lived you Houston street? And you were on KZ fm in high school?..” “Yeah..?” When Y/n sees the way Spencer is intensely staring at the collage she also gets up, to stand next to him. “I need to take this thing about.” Spencer says while not looking away. “What?” “I’ll put it back. I think I see images of you. Guys!”

Y/n stands to the side with Derek while Spencer and Emily are putting the pieces together. “Y/n, it looks like someone has been stalking you for years.”

“Yeah, this tells your whole life story. Awards, Billboard charts, Albums.”

“Everything since moving to Nashville.”

“Who gave you this collage?” Derek asked, leaning over the island counter. “Um- he did” Y/N says pointing at a picture on the collage. “Who is he?” “Uh- Parker Dunley, I don’t really know him, he just owns a gallery I go to sometimes.”

Spencer gets off the phone quickly turning to Y/N. “Y/N, do you someone by the name of Veronica Hartley?” “Roni? Yeah, of course I know her. I’ve known her for years. She’s one of my assistants.” Their conversation gets cut off by Y/n’s phone ringing. “What is it?” Spencer asks, seeing the way her eyes widened when she read the caller ID.

“That’s her calling now.”

“Is she calling from her cell phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Y/n, we think Roni’s the stalker.”

“No- No way.”

“Answer the phone. Act completely natural, the longer you keep her on the line the more likely we’ll be able to trace the call.. Trust me.” Spencer walks away to call the team, while Y/n answers Roni’s call.

“Hello?…Roni?...” Spencer turns to Y/N and gives her a signal to keep talking.

“Rons?... You’re tired?......I saw you today?.... I don’t know what you’re talking about.. I remember.. Roni, that was just one weekend…”

“Y/n” Spencer whisper yells, after getting off the phone with Penny, finding out Roni’s calling inside the house.

“How did she get inside?”

“She has keys.”

Spencer starts searching the house Y/n walking behind him. When they get up to a guest bedroom, Y/n feels the barrel of a gun being pressed to her skull, Spencer quickly turns around.

“Put down the gun.” Roni demands. “Roni..” Spencer says while lowering his gun. “Don’t call me ‘Roni” you don’t know me! Come on, Y/n, let’s go. We have to go, baby. Come on.” Y/n looks in Spencer’s eyes begging him to do something. “Roni, don’t hurt her. You don’t need to hurt her.” “You don’t know anything. I would never hurt her. I created her" "No you didn’t.” “Yes, I did you stupid, ungrateful, little bitch.. I can’t believe I ever loved you.” “Roni, she.. She loves me now.” Roni moves her gun from pointing it at Y/n’s head to pointing it at Spencer. “She told me so. When we were in the pool. She kissed me. Now she loves me okay?” “No.” “Tell her we kissed in the pool.” “No!’ Roni yells this time switching from pointing her gun from Spencer to Y/n. Y/n looks at Spencer hopefully to tell her the next move, when he nods his head at her she says, “Yes, we kissed.” Roni then pushes Y/n, and Spencer tackles Roni to the ground, grabbing her gun, and pointing it at her. “Kill me! Please. Kill me! I’ll be so much happier!” But Spencer shakes his head, lowering the gun as he says, “No, we’re going to get you some help.”

Y/n is standing in the station talking to her publicist, while news vans are lined up outside.

“I don’t want any media.” “Come on, Y/n” “No. No media.” “Okay, no media. Let me deal with these guys then.”

After Y/n’s publicist leaves, Spencer walks up to Y/n. “I wish we didn’t meet under these circumstances. More normal maybe.” “Y/n, believe me, no matter how we met, I’m glad we did.” Y/n feels her whole body, warm at that, she turns her head, knowing Spencer can see the blush on her face. They’re interrupted when Derek yells for Spencer. “Hey, Reid. Come on, we got to move.” “Well, um- here, take this.” Y/n passes Spencer a receipt she had written her new number on. “Would you- if it’s okay with you, give me a call.” “Yeah, I would love to.” Rossi comes walking over. “I hate to intrude, kid, but we’re waiting.” “Yeah- yeah a second.” “So- call me, I’ll be waiting.” Y/n turns to walk away, but Spencer puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Y/n turns towards Spencer, he puts his hand on her check, Y/n leaning into his palm, turning her head slightly to press a small kiss into his palm, before walking away.

#spencer reid x singer!reader #spencer reid x famous!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid

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