#but there's. 10k words. LOL

[numbuh]

I don't think I've ever seen you mention- what Sector does Numbuh Fifty-Two Pickup belong to? And in addition, how does he get along with Numbuh Three Sixty-Two? (I only ask because she's probably my favourite character)

still not sure what the name / letter for his sector should be unfortunately :(

YESSS 362 is also one of my favorites :) she's awesome. I briefly went over them on the moonbase relationships page but I feel like I left a lot out trying to summarize so I'll be going over it in more detail here

basically, after chad went traitor, benny was... reluctant about a new supreme leader. to his surprise, when rachel gets the chance to level with him, he can relate to her more! she has anxiety and that makes benny's situation a bit easier to handle from experience. a little awkward sometimes but she always means well. 274 was pretty nice to struggling kids, of course, but he had problems connecting with benny because he was kind of like. repressing his own issues so to speak. he was more distracted with thinking up his 13th birthday plan by the last time they talked to be concerned with hypocrisy. as mean as this sounds, it wasn't his problem anymore anyway. 52p could understand that, right?

52 pickup doesn't want to believe rachel would "pull a 274" in the future because there's no real reason for her to do so. (although benny or the average operative could wonder how she doesn't go mad with all the stuff she has to do)

the last thing rachel tries to do with benny is invite him up to moonbase on april fools day. since benny is always the one getting pranked on that day (something even rachel couldn't help but to indulge in if possible) and his birthday is the very next day she's like "hey do you want to just go all out and prank whoever up here?" but it doesn't work for this exact reason:

at that point 52p is already like. isolating himself and not really letting others in. so he says no and abruptly ends the transmission. 52p rejecting her offer doesn't feel good, and it makes her worried she's doing something wrong. despite seeing so so many kids per day, witnessing one decline in real time is still hard. she has to deal with paperwork and constant stress as it is. a lot of it boils down to there only being so much she can do and benny recognizing that while also thinking it's not fair. being a part of the knd, especially anything moonbase-level, means there's the possibility of making a lot of mistakes without much time to ruminate on them. you have a very important job to do. you put other kids before yourself. benny having a mistake he ruminates on is natural, but it's also seen as a problem. she didn't think he was a bad kid or really a bad operative.

[starmocha]

it was always you Sylus/Reader | 10.6K words | Masterlist | AO3 [part 2 of but if it’s forever, it’s even better] “A baby… A baby. Baby. …you’re pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.” A/N: I let Tumblr peer pressured me into writing a part two. ❤️ there is also an epilogue-ish part three…that I am still polishing up, so uh, give me another three weeks????? MDNI.

You had always known Sylus was a man of his words. He had made it known time and time again that he would never flatter you, never betray you, and most certainly never lie to you, so when the man himself promised that he would get you pregnant, he was going to get you pregnant.

“Sylus—ah! I…I might already be preg—ah!”

You bit down into his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clinging to him and clenching tightly as he continued to drive into you mercilessly, showing no sign of stopping or easing until you were both finished. You cried into his shoulder, gasping and moaning needily, as he spread you more, taking you in deeper and just hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

“Ohhh…” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to even remember what you were about to say.

“Can’t be too sure,” Sylus said with a wolfish grin, pleased to see you such a quivering mess beneath him, cheeks all flushed red and eyes dazed with complete lust for him. Even though he could hear you protesting feebly, your body was betraying your true feelings, easily and eagerly taking him in.

“Sylus—!”

Sylus covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling the noises, but the feel of him still relentlessly thrusting in and out of you nevertheless had you helplessly moaning into his hand, your eyes looking up at him with tears brimming in the corners.

“Careful, sweetie,” he chided, smirking, “Wouldn’t want your neighbors to know what we’re doing, right?”

You moaned into his hand again, the feeling of him pounding into you had robbed you of all other coherent thoughts or even any feeling of modesty, your only focus in this moment was on him, the way he spoke, and the lewd noises of him fucking you. You whimpered and gasped when he removed his hand, but just as quickly your sounds were swallowed by his mouth as he greedily devoured your cries. When he pulled back, a string of saliva connected the two of you. He gazed at you haughtily, completely obsessed by the dazed look you gave him.

He chuckled darkly, his hand cupped your cheek, gently caressing you. “Then again,” he murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously, “I don’t particularly care if anyone hears us.”

He kissed you again. “Going to give me an heir?” he murmured, his tone holding shades of a light tease.

You tried to glare at him, but he laughed it off. “You are insufferable,” you griped, but almost immediately after you said that, he purposefully thrusted in harder, watching with amusement when your eyes rolled to the back of your head again, your pleased moans countering your earlier annoyed tone.

“What was that, sweetie?” he teased.

“Sylus…” you whined and gripped his arm pleadingly, “I can’t take this anymore—how—oh, god—how much longer?”

His eyes darkened, taking in the sight of you shaking with pleasure beneath him. He had been pushing you to your limits, taking you whenever he could, as often as he could. His own breathing grew shakier, his thoughts wandering, his eyes glazing with desire.

Not until it’s confirmed.

Not until…you’re round and heavy with my child…

I need to keep breeding you…until you’re pregnant…

Gonna fill you up, knock you up…

Need to see you swell…make you mine…gonna fuck my child into you—

“Fuck—” The thought of you carrying his baby had him coming quicker than either of you expected, and you whined at the feeling of how full he was making you feel. It was too much, and yet, your own body wanted more, wanted to milk him until he was empty, until his seed flooded your womb completely.

“Sylus…!”

“Fuck, sweetie,” he panted, his large body hovered closely over yours, only held up by his forearms as he stared into your eyes as he emptied himself into you. He kissed you roughly, his frenzied words coming out in between sharp gasps of breath, “You’re going to look so fucking pretty with my baby in you. Won’t be able to keep my hands off of you—gonna feel you up, fuck you again and again—oh, sweetie…”

You whimpered against his kisses, his dizzying words making the blood rushed straight to your head. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him tightly as you felt his body relaxing against yours. “Sylus…I feel so…full…”

He groaned as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt him nibbling on your skin, felt all of his body heat against yours as you both slowly settled down from your shared euphoria.

For the next few minutes, neither of you spoke, the only sound heard in your bedroom was the two of you steadying your breathing. Then, you heard Sylus speaking up: “Let’s rest for a bit,” he said, pulling out of you and laying facedown next to you, his arms slung protectively over your stomach. He peered at you with a weary smirk, saying, “We’ll continue again later…”

“What? Again?” You startled at his words, eyes widening in shock as you exclaimed, “We’ve already done it three times tonight!”

“Oh, sweetie, you know I have a big appetite—in more ways than one.”

He hungrily kissed you, your small face held in his large hands, his touch gentle, but his kisses were ravenous. He parted, giving you a moment to catch your breath, but his words did nothing to calm your racing heart: “And when it comes to you,” he husked, “my craving is never satisfied.”

“I can never face my neighbors again…”

“Good. You should come live with me in the N109 Zone anyway.”

“You can at least pretend to sympathize with me for one minute.”

“I wouldn’t know how. Being empathetic is not in my nature, sweetie.”

For the next few weeks, you fell into a strange routine. If you weren’t in Sylus’ bed, then he was in yours, and while you would often protest against his enthusiastic advances, eventually you would always succumb to your desires, letting him have his ways with you to his heart’s content.

With so much going on, you didn’t notice the telling signs at first.

Fatigue? Work had been hectic lately.

Nausea? There had been a bug going around the city.

Tender breasts? Perhaps you were about to have your period.

Except…that was when you realized your period never arriving. You went over the dates, checked the calendar three, four times, as you did the calculations in your head.

You were late.

Your heart sped up, hands already resting on your lower abdomen. Your nerves were in bundles, thoughts haywire.

You…might be…

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

With Sylus’ baby.

Several pregnancy tests later, you stared at the row of pregnancy tests on your bathroom counter neatly lined up with identical results: Positive. You were pregnant.

You sat down on the edge of your bathtub, hand once again feeling your flat belly. So many thoughts ran through your mind, so many questions weighing you down. You had, more or less, planned this, but now that it was a reality—now that you were pregnant with Sylus’ baby—you felt nervous.

You couldn’t even pinpoint the reason for your anxiety. It was just a combination of so many different things, and while you could just continue to sit and mull and worry on your own, you knew you would rather go see Sylus as soon as possible. Taking a look at the late time, you decided first thing tomorrow morning, you would head over to the N109 Zone and see Sylus.

For now, you hoped a warm shower could help calm your nerves enough for you to sleep through the night.

The following morning, you woke up early to do a few chores around the apartment before heading outside for a quick walk to clear your head. You walked around the block, silently rehearsing in your head the different ways you could make your announcement. The previous night, you had ended up staying up later than intended, browsing videos and social media posts about how other people had made their pregnancy announcements. While many of them were cute, some even ingenious, you felt they didn’t seem right for you and Sylus.

As you approached your apartment building again, still lost in thoughts, you heard a caw nearby and instantly frowned, mumbling to yourself, “Oh, no…”

After a quick scan of your surroundings, your eyes caught sight of the familiar metallic wings flapping overhead before a certain mechanical crow landed on a nearby tree to perch, his eyes staring straight in your direction. You gritted your teeth in annoyance before you calmed your breathing. You slowly exhaled, forced on a sweet smile, and then called out to the mechanical crow in a sing-song voice, “Oh, Mephie~ who’s a pretty birdie?”

Mephisto gave you an indignant caw, and you feigned hurt, pouting at him. “Oh, don’t be like that, Mephie,” you cooed, “We’re besties, remember?”

Mephisto shuffled on his perch, cocking his head at you in confusion.

“And as besties,” you continued, taking off your rings to dangle in front of the crow, “We should be nice to one another, right? Help each other out, even?”

You could have sworn you saw the gleam of interest in Mephisto’s eyes when he noticed the shiny rings you were waving at him. Gotcha, you thought, pleased that your plan was working out.

“These rings,” you said, holding them out in the palm of your hand, “for your silence on this matter.”

Mephisto looked up at you confused.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” you scolded the crow, folding your hand and gripping the rings tightly. “You are not telling Sylus about my pregnancy before me!”

You opened your hand again, holding up your bribe as offering. “Now, do we have a deal, Mephisto?”

You grinned when Mephisto eagerly and greedily seized the rings, giving you a nod before flying away with his new treasures.

You quickly headed inside to get changed. While Mephisto did seem to agree to your bribe, you still would rather head over to the N109 Zone as soon as possible to share the news with Sylus before any other mishaps could happen.

It was eight in the morning when you finally arrived at Onychinus’ base in the N109 Zone, an area constantly shrouded in darkness and where the entire concept of time felt utterly meaningless. It was also when Sylus would be asleep, seeing as his schedule and yours were polar opposite. Sylus tended to be in foul mood whenever he was woken up during his sleep, so you really should let him sleep for a bit longer. It almost didn’t seem right to wake him up so suddenly and, in according to his schedule, so early.

But then you remembered your recent bouts of morning sickness was all his fault, so you grinned and barged into his home loudly, startling Luke and Kieran who were lounging around in the dining area.

“Miss Hunter! What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Kieran rose from his seat in a chair while Luke remained seated on the table.

“Yeah, Boss is still asleep,” Luke added, “W-wait, where are you going?”

You grinned and ignored the twins who both gotten to their feet to trail after you nervously as you headed in the direction of Sylus’ bedroom.

“W-wait, Boss is going to be pissed if he’s woken up at this time!” Luke grabbed your arm to stop you, and you peered up at him with a startling sweet smile. Even with the mask covering his face, you could sense how nervous he was, whether it was because of the prospect of waking Sylus up or your frighteningly cheerful smile, you weren’t sure.

“It’s alright, you two,” you cooed, voice so saccharine it made them wonder what you were up to. You continued in a chipper voice, “He’s going to be thrilled by what I have to tell him.”

“Well,” Kieran started, scratching his head thoughtfully, “Miss Hunter does have him wrapped around her finger…”

“Right, Boss practically grovels at her feet—wait, don’t tell him I said that!”

By this point, you were already outside Sylus’ bedroom with the twins a good several feet away staring at you with mild horror. You quietly shooed them away and watched with a smile as they slunk back to the dining room while muttering among themselves. You couldn’t be bothered to care about what they could be whispering about.

You exhaled slowly, and then quietly opened the door, peering into the dark room with caution. Your eyes scanned the large bedroom, checking for any distractions, any oddities that could ruin this planned perfect moment.

“Good, Mephie is not in there,” you mumbled to yourself when you noticed the empty bird perch. You made a mental note to find something extra shiny for the mechanical bird for keeping his end of the deal. You continued your quiet surveillance, and when your eyes finally landed on the bed, you found Sylus asleep under the cover, seeing his chest rising and falling steadily.

You grinned.

As you tiptoed into the bedroom, you couldn’t help but noticed a large stray feather of Mephisto was laying on the floor. Your grin widened as you picked it up and made your way over to Sylus’ bed.

He was sound asleep.

He looked so peaceful, almost ethereal, even.

You smiled and leaned closer, using the feather to tickle his face.

Sylus stirred with an annoyed groan.

You quickly suppressed a giggle. Just as you were about to tickle his nose, Sylus opened his eyes and you startled from seeing his red irises so suddenly. Immediately, you let out a shriek when Sylus unexpectedly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into bed with him.

“You shouldn’t have snuck in here like this, sweetie,” he chided, holding you firmly to him.

You struggled in his embrace, but Sylus simply smirked, showing no sign of letting you go any time soon. “Who provoked who first?” he questioned arrogantly, giving your thigh a light smack.

You glared up at him, exclaiming, “Is that any way to treat the woman carrying your baby?”

He paused.

He stared.

And then he spoke—voice so rough, so dry.

“A baby… A baby. Baby. …you’re pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.”

He had unconsciously let you go, barely noticing when you knelt next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. You watched with delight, seeing the normally calm and haughty crime leader having a complete brain malfunction as he attempted to process your news, his eyes darting back and forth from your face and your stomach. Several emotions flashed across Sylus’ eyes ranging from confusion to surprise to shock before finally settling on joy—absolute, complete wholehearted joy.

You gasped when he pulled you into his firm embrace again, your face pressed to his chest as you felt his hands rubbing you up and down. You whined against him and he looked down at you completely delighted. His lips instantly pressed against yours, silencing your cries.

“We’re having a baby,” he murmured again, still not quite registering the words, finding them to sound so foreign on his tongue. “My god, we’re having a baby…”

“How many times are you going to say that?” You looked at him with a pout and he just grinned at you again.

“Until you give birth.”

You instantly blushed. “What are you saying—”

He sat back, leaning against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You watched as his large hand lay over your still-flat belly curiously. He shook his head in disbelief, huffing quietly, “A baby. There’s a baby in there…”

“Y-Yeah…” you mumbled back, still finding the whole situation surreal as well. It was your body, but even you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that you were now carrying a new life inside you. Your eyes rested on your stomach. It was still so flat. How could a baby be growing in there? How could you get bigger?

You tilted your head a little, your questioning thoughts starting to drift to a new direction. You wondered when you would start showing. When would you start to feel the little kicks and movements? How big were you going to get? Were you having a boy or a girl? Would Sylus truly love you like this—

You teared up. Sylus immediately noticed and looked startled.

You started crying.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Sweetie, why are you crying? Why are you upset?”

You were immediately pulled into his embrace, his hand automatically rubbing the back of your head gently to soothe you as you cried against his chest. You heaved and sobbed against him as he mumbled comforting words, hoping they would calm you down.

“Did I do something?” he questioned softly, feeling helpless when he felt you shaking in his arms, unable to calm down or speak clearly.

You shook your head.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

“N-no…” you mumbled feebly against his chest.

“Then why are you crying? Sweetie, talk to me…”

“I-I don’t know…”

Sylus peered down at your head and smiled gently. “I think a certain kitten is fibbing.”

“Quit it…”

“I will if she tells me why she’s crying.”

You grumbled against his chest, protesting quietly when he pulled you back to look at your reddened face and puffy eyes. He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your fresh tears as he shushed you gently. You sniffed.

“I’m going to get fat…”

Sylus looked confused.

And then he laughed.

“Ah, so is that why you are crying?” He chuckled, “Sweetheart, you are not going to get fat.”

“I’m going to gain weight!”

“For our baby,” he emphasized. “The baby is going to be growing inside you.”

“You’ll stop loving me…”

Sylus immediately frowned; his earlier mirth disappeared in that instance. His eyes narrowed in anger as he spoke coldly, “What did you say?”

You clammed up, unprepared for his entire demeanor change. You let out a shaky breath when Sylus grabbed your chin, gentle but firm, and held your gaze to him. His thumb brushed over your trembling lips as he spoke, his tone leaving no room for arguments, “I won’t ever stop loving you.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but the way he said those words so evenly, so softly and resolutely, they rang loud in the large room. Your heart pounded in your chest, his icy gaze on you rendered you speechless, making you forget about your earlier insecurities. He leaned his face closer to you, his lips just a breath away from yours. “If anything,” he continued, voice dropping lower, “I’ll love you even more.”

You whimpered when he captured your lips, his sweet kiss a binding seal for his ardent words. When he parted, he pressed his forehead to yours, his voice still breathless and unyielding, “Don’t ever question my love for you again.”

Your eyes lowered, embarrassed by your earlier outburst. You nodded obediently.

The room was quiet as you and Sylus remained still, him waiting patiently for you to calm yourself. Meanwhile, you felt your cheeks reddening as you replayed the last few minutes in your mind, your embarrassment growing stronger as you realized how silly and ridiculous you were being.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m having mood swings already…”

“No kidding…”

“What did you say?!”

“My kitten,” he answered, kissing your forehead. He lay back down in bed, pulling you on top of him gently. Your head lifted, your protests dying instantly when you caught sight of his sweet expression, eyes closed and a pleased smile on his face. Your heart instantly melted, any residual doubts lingering in your mind disappeared the moment you heard him sighing blissfully: “We’re having a baby…”

“Are you sure you don’t want to let people know Onychinus’ leader is your baby daddy?”

“I’m sure.”

“Sure-sure, or pregnancy-brain-I-might-change-my-mind-again-sure?”

“Sure-sure.”

“Positive?”

“Positive!”

“Really—”

“Sylus! Absolutely, positively, undoubtedly 100% sure!”

“Mood swing?”

“I will melt your vinyl collection.”

For the longest time, it seemed your belly continued to remain flat as a board, making even you yourself doubtful about whether or not you were truly pregnant. If it weren’t for that first ultrasound you got at your prenatal visit, you probably would have dismissed the whole thing as a false positive.

However, the moment you saw that small speck on the ultrasound photo, the moment you caught Sylus’ own surprised expression, you both knew that this was real. Your lives were changing in the most astoundingly beautiful way possible, and no matter how much you both may prep for the arrival of your bundle of joy, you knew nothing would ever be like before.

How wonderful, you thought.

One morning, early in your second trimester, you noticed a slight rounding in your middle after waking up. You cautiously touched it, startled by the feeling of the curve. You could have sworn that just eight hours earlier, you still had your flat stomach, but right now you could definitely see a distinct difference, see the way it was beginning to shape and fill out. You touched it more firmly, still unused to the surrealism of this moment.

“It’s…happening…” you muttered to yourself, still trying to come to terms with this reality. You startled again when you heard your phone ringing.

It was Sylus, wanting to video chat. You answered immediately.

“Good morning!” you greeted him.

“Morning,” he yawned back, and you realized it was probably his “night” time now. “I just wanted to check in on you before you went to work. How are you feeling?”

“Good!” you responded brightly. Possibly a little too brightly, because Sylus immediately raised a questioning brow.

“‘Good?’” he repeated, crossing his arms in confusion. “How’s your morning sickness?”

“Haven’t had any—yet,” you answered cautiously. Then you smiled brightly and adjusted the phone to show your midriff. You lifted your pajamas top excitedly, exclaiming, “But look! I’m starting to show!”

You had expected Sylus to be excited, but his expression and entire demeanor was a far cry from what you had anticipated the notorious Onychinus leader to have. He seemed upset, and you frowned, slowly pulling your top back down. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“Huh?” He didn’t seem to realize his expression was upsetting you. He sighed, and apologized immediately. “I am excited,” he clarified, though his tone suggested otherwise, “It’s just…”

“Just what?” you demanded, feeling hurt that his behavior was not like what you had expected.

“I want you here with me.”

Your face softened. “What?”

“You’re starting to show,” he continued, “and it made me realize I don’t want to miss another second of your pregnancy. I’m just…upset that I am not by your side right now, seeing your belly grow, feeling it, taking care of you…”

You could feel your cheeks warming because of his words.

“Come live with me?”

“But—”

Sylus sighed, already expecting the usual excuses: your job, your life, everything you loved was in bright, sunny Linkon City. Not the dark and dreary N109 Zone.

“But my plushies…”

Sylus blinked, confused.

“Sweetie, I have more than enough room here for your belongings.”

“My job—”

“Didn’t you say your captain was putting you on desk duty?” he interrupted you, smirking, “Surely the Hunters Association allows their employees—especially ones in their…delicate condition—the option to work remotely?”

“…”

“No more excuses?”

“Not at the moment…Give me a sec.”

Sylus chuckled. “I’ll have Luke and Kieran make arrangements for your move.”

You gawked at him. “I never said yes!”

“Not explicitly,” he agreed and then tilted his head a little, smirking, “So explain to me why your eyes shined so brightly when I made my offer?”

You slumped in bed and stared at the phone—at Sylus’ insufferable smirk.

“Sweetheart…”

“I want you next to me, too,” you confessed as you looked down at the small bump forming. You tentatively touched it. “I want you with us.”

You looked up at the phone screen just in time to see Sylus had a quick intake of breath, his eyes had widened a fraction, easily missed by those with untrained eyes. Then, he shook his head, almost as if in disbelief by what he had heard. He chuckled to himself. “Sweetheart, I’ll see you in an hour.”

You looked confused. “I thought you were going to bed now?”

“How can I sleep after hearing you say something so adorable?”

You blushed, and tried to keep your voice and expression neutral. “Go to bed,” you said as sternly as possible in spite of Sylus’ amused smirk at your transparent attempt. “I’m getting ready to go to work.”

“Call out,” he demanded.

“No—”

“Fine,” he said, interrupting you to your confusion, “I’ll just show up to your workplace at the end of your work day.”

You stared at the phone, mouth agape. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you just make a threat?”

He shook his head, feigning hurt. “I am merely concerned for my pregnant girlfriend.”

“No,” you repeated firmly. “Do. Not. Come. To. My. Work. Place.”

“How mean,” he cooed mockingly, “You won’t allow me to see you, you won’t let people know I fathered your baby—”

“About that—”

He looked at you suspiciously. “What?”

“People kind of know…”

“I don’t understand,” he said, frowning. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “You said you didn’t want people to know the leader of Onychinus knocked you up.”

“Well, yes—and they still don’t know that.” You bit your bottom lip nervously, flinching a little when Sylus questioned you again impatiently. “I couldn’t just not give them a name—Tara was so excited about the news and well—”

“Well, what?”

“I said Skye fathered my baby.”

“Who’s Skye—you did what?” Sylus paused, remembering. And then he laughed. “I see, so ‘Skye’ is your baby daddy then.”

The minute Sylus started smiling, you felt an uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of your belly. You knew it wasn’t your morning sickness making you feel queasy in that moment. The knot worsened when Sylus started chuckling. You flustered and asked, mildly annoyed, “Why are you laughing?”

“No particular reason,” he answered affably, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I can be okay with this. In fact—”

Sylus’ smile widened. “I won’t come see you after work today after all.”

You breathed out in relief, but that brief moment of serenity disappeared just as quickly the moment Sylus finished his thought:

“‘Skye’ will pick you up today after work.”

“You are absolutely insufferable.”

“See you at five, sweetheart,” Sylus responded, smirking as he ended the call and you were left staring at your bewildered reflection in the darkened phone screen.

“Well, Baby,” You started, staring down at your small bump. You gently placed a hand over it, giving it a tentative rub. “Your daddy can be an ass sometimes…”

“You actually brought your plushies.”

“You said you have room for them.”

“I do, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t remember getting Bunbun, Artsy Birb, or Happy Snowman with you…”

“…don’t worry about them.”

Before you knew it, you began calling Onychinus’ base your home. Not a second home, not a temporary home, but home. There were days you would wake up feeling disoriented, still not quite used to the N109 Zone’s seemingly eternal darkness. There were also many mornings you would find yourself missing and yearning for the sunlight in Linkon City, but those feelings of longing disappeared the moment you felt Sylus’ arm wrapped around your waist, feeling your growing belly and hearing his soft breathing so close to you.

Your eyes fluttered opened one particular day—or, perhaps, it was night, you weren’t quite sure yet—and you felt a familiar warmth behind you. You looked down and saw a large hand covering your growing bump.

You smiled.

Your belly had grown steadily these past few weeks, becoming more and more prominent each day, and while it seemed big to you, it still looked quite small when Sylus touched it. You stared at his large hand nearly covering your entire middle, and you swallowed nervously, realizing you still had several more months of your pregnancy. Plenty of time for your baby to grow bigger.

Much bigger.

You felt nervous.

And scared.

You started to cry.

Sylus immediately woke up when he sensed the sudden shift in your emotions.

“Sweetie?” He was immediately alert, sitting up and pulling you closer to him as he examined you all over looking for anything that could be causing you discomfort or distress. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“How am I supposed to have your big babies?!”

Sylus looked floored.

“…excuse me?”

You continued crying hysterically. “How am I supposed to push out your big babies?!”

Sylus blinked, still not quite following your train of thought. He knew your hormones had been fluctuating all over the place, but even that did not prepare him for this conversation. He rubbed his forehead, half-wondering if he was still asleep and dreaming this whole ridiculous situation. He sighed when you continued to hysterically ramble:

“What was I thinking letting you knock me up with your big babies? Fuck, I wasn’t thinking—I was just a horny little slut! And now I have your big baby inside me! How am I expected to push out a baby that size? Oh, god, what if I can’t—Sylus, stop laughing at me!”

Sylus was leaning against the headboard, his whole body shaking in amusement as he watched you spiral. He chuckled when you attempted to punch his shoulder, but his quick reflex easily allowed him to grab your wrist gently before pulling you into his embrace. He hummed happily when he felt your small bump pressed against his stomach.

“Sweetheart, you are worrying over nothing…”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not gonna be pushing something out of your—"

He kissed your lips, silencing you immediately. “It will be fine,” he reassured you, “Your body was made for this.”

“…for average sized baby…not what you’ve given me…”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, half-amused, half-confused. “I might regret asking this,” he said, giving your cheek a teasing pinch to your annoyance, “but what makes you so certain the baby is going to be abnormally big?”

“Look at you!”

He shrugged, still not quite following your train of thought.

“Sylus!”

“Look,” he started while stroking your head soothingly, his voice gentle, “The doctor said you are meeting all of the expected weight gain on time. Not under, and not over.”

You continued to sulk.

“The baby is growing at a perfectly normal rate.”

“But what if—"

He sighed. “I know all of this is scary right now—” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “And I—I can’t truly fathom your anxiety. You’re scared and I wish I can make you feel better—”

You looked up curiously.

He smiled and rubbed your cheek where he had previously pinched tenderly. “I am so bad at this…”

You stared at Sylus’ helpless smile and you felt a warmth spreading in your chest. This big intimidating man with such an imposing aura, such unfathomable confidence and charisma was rendered helpless and lost by you. You felt oddly touched by this. Your smaller hands grabbed his, holding it close to your cheek and you smiled at Sylus, surprising him.

“I might have overreacted,” you admitted sheepishly, adding, “I’m feeling better now, Sylus…”

He furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?”

You nodded and kissed his palm, your hand caressing his. “I’m still nervous,” you admitted, and Sylus’ expression softened, “But…I feel safe with you…”

He smiled and gathered you into his lap, holding you securely to him. He nuzzled his cheek against your head. “I wish I could take away all of your worries,” he murmured, “but I don’t want to lie to you or make promises I can’t keep…”

He kissed you sweetly, his voice still soft and gentle, “I can only promise that I will stay by your side for as long as you’ll have me…”

His hand lowered, feeling your belly, feeling the life the two of you had made together. “As long as you’ll both have me.”

You smiled at him, eyes brimming with tears.

He wiped the corners of your eyes, tsking softly. “Now,” he continued, his tone lightening, “Any other worries I need to quell tonight?”

You stilled, looking deep in thought. Sylus was only teasing, but he grew concerned when you seemed to ponder his inquiry seriously. He tilted your chin up, your gaze meeting his. He asked, “What is it?”

“Do…do you think I’m still…pretty?”

He blinked, and then he shook his head, amused. “Is that even a question?”

You looked at him sullenly. “Don’t patronize me…I’m serious.”

“Very pretty,” he murmured, grabbing your face, his lips pressed roughly against yours. You gasped and panted, not expecting the fierce kisses from him. His hand rested behind your head, your hair roughly tangled in between his long, slender fingers as he spoke deeply, a faint growl heard in the back of his throat, “So fucking pretty.”

You whined against his lips, and Sylus chuckled as he continued to mumble in between his relentless kisses, “My pretty, knocked up hunter, all round and swollen with my baby, so cute and needy—fuck, I can’t get enough of you…”

“Sylus…” You panted, feeling your body warming up as you listened to his voice, hearing that sinful rasp full of desire for you. You unconsciously rubbed yourself against his thigh and Sylus hissed, grabbing your hips.

“Sweetie…what are you doing?”

You blushed. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

He looked at you knowingly. He gripped your hips tighter, smirking. “You’re really testing my restraint right now…”

You looked at him expectantly, biting your bottom lip. He groaned at the sight.

“Sweetie, my self-control can only go so far…”

“What if…” you looked at him, eyes glazing with desire. “I say…I want you right now?”

“What?” Sylus looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to repeat your words. You felt your cheeks warming up under his intense gaze, but more than that, you also felt a burning inside you as you realize how much you missed and ached for his touch.

“What is this lewd expression you are giving me,” he murmured, tipping your chin up. He leaned down and planted kisses along your neck, nipping and sucking as his hands roamed down your body. You shivered against him as he spoke, “Are you…giving me permission, sweetie?”

“…Yes.”

That was all Sylus needed to hear.

His lips crashed upon yours again, hands fumbling with clothes, making quick work to discard them. Your needy gasps and moans mingled with his own impatient grunts and groans as you both gave in to the pleasure you had both abstained from these past few weeks.

“Sy—ohhh…”

Sylus had you on your side, your leg held up by him as he slid in slowly, his movements more careful than normal as he gauged your reaction, making sure to prioritize your comfort and wellbeing first. He placed a hand over your belly, cradling it possessively. “Who put this baby in you?” he demanded, the rasp in his voice noticeable, making you throbbed inside.

“Y-you, Sylus!”

He kissed your neck. “That’s right,” he murmured, nipping at your skin and leaving his marks, “It’s my child growing inside you, my child in your womb.”

You shivered against him.

“Sylus…more…please…”

“Are you sure—”

“Yes!”

He smirked at your eager, impatient response. His face buried into your neck, his voice husky with desire, “It looks like it’s going to be a long night…”

“I can’t be around Luke and Kieran anymore.”

“Are they bullying you, sweetie? Just bully them right back, you have my permission.”

“That’s not what I meant—never mind. I just…feel like they know what we did…”

“Did they say something?”

“No, it’s the way they looked at me…”

“…they wear masks all the time. How can you tell?”

“I just know.”

“Sweetie…”

“Don’t you dare say I am being hormonal again!”

“…”

Ping!

“Sylus, what the hell?! Did you just text an emoji to me?!”

“I did as you said. I did not say you were hormonal.”

“You texted me the ‘pondering’ Grumpy Crow emoji!”

“It could mean anything.”

Ping!

“��Really, sweetie? The ‘annoyed’ Grumpy Crow emoji?”

“It could mean anything.”

You should have known that Sylus would be prepared for your pregnancy cravings, although, you couldn’t help but felt that he had taken things too far.

“Um…” Luke opened the fridge and stared inside for a moment before closing the door. He turned and stared at you from behind his mask. “Is Miss Hunter craving yogurt?”

“What?” You paused in your work and looked up from your laptop confused. “What are you talking about—”

Luke opened the fridge door again, giving you a grand view of the assorted brands and flavors of yogurt that filled the fridge in every conceivable spot possible.

“I—” you stared, mouth agape, “I simply said yesterday, ‘yogurt sounds tasty right now’!”

Kieran strolled over and opened the freezer door and you all stared awkwardly at the containers after containers of frozen yogurt that also lined the shelves.

“At least he is attentive,” Kieran responded pleasantly while you sat there unsure if you should feel happy or exasperated by Sylus’ gesture.

“Let’s see,” Luke started, pointing at each container as he listed the different types, “You have the regular yogurt, Greek yogurt, French-style, organic, dairy-free, low-fat, probiotic—”

“You also have plain yogurt,” Kieran cheerfully chimed in, adding, “Vanilla, strawberry, peach, raspberry, cherry, mango, coconut, pomegranate…”

“Key lime pie, strawberry-banana, chocolate, cookies ‘n’ cream, mixed berry, orange crème…”

“It’s the salad dressing incident all over again…” you bemoaned, earning absolutely no empathy from the two men in the room, who seemed to be delighted by this odd situation.

“Maybe next time you should be more specific,” Luke said unhelpfully, earning instantly a glare from you. He held up his hands in defense and shrugged. “Say, Miss Hunter, can I have one of the—”

“Be my guest,” you said, sighing when Luke happened to grab the vanilla yogurt that came with crushed chocolate cookies to sprinkle on top.

“Wait, does Miss Hunter even have any cravings right now?” Kieran pondered aloud.

Sex, your mind unhelpfully answered for you before you shooed that traitorous thought away. You forced a pleasant smile on your face and shook your head as you rubbed your growing belly. “Not really. This little one doesn’t seem to mind what I eat.”

“Huh,” Luke said as he stirred the cookies into his yogurt. “No wonder Boss is desperate to find anything to buy for you…”

Kieran nodded in agreement with his brother, adding, “He must really want the whole pregnancy experience with you…”

“Is that so?” You couldn’t help but feel touched by Sylus’ gesture now.

“Maybe you should make something up,” Luke suggested.

You rolled your eyes. “Be for real, you two. I am not going to make up some cravings when I don’t have any just so Sylus can—”

“How about pickles and hot chili-lime tortilla chips?” Kieran suggested, looking up from his phone.

“What are you—actually, that does sound good…”

“What sounds good?” Sylus walked into the kitchen, interrupting your conversation. You glared at Luke and Kieran into keeping their silence, and the two nodded reluctantly.

“Never mind that,” you said, standing up with Sylus’ help, “Are you ready to go to Linkon City?���

Sylus sighed. “The doctors in the N109 Zone are just as good. Hell, I can even get you your own personal doctors to come to our home—”

“Sylus, I want to go to Linkon City. Please?”

One look at your pouting lips had Sylus yielding to you immediately. He sighed again and shook his head in defeat, “Fine, fine, whatever you like, sweetie.”

As you and Sylus started to leave the kitchen, Luke piped up, “Hey, Boss, do we have any yogurt around here?”

You shot Luke the dirtiest look you could muster, making a mental note to get back at him again for his comment.

It was a girl.

It was going to be a girl.

Any worries that Sylus would be disappointed in the gender immediately left your brain the moment you caught sight of his awestruck stare as he gazed at the monitor where you both watched the baby make little movements.

The doctor left the two of you alone to gather your thoughts, to bask in this private joyous moment. The moment the door closed and you two were truly left alone, you both let out the breath you were holding in.

Sylus was the first to speak, his voice more surprised than you had ever heard from the usual confidant man: “We’re having a girl…”

Your heart skipped a beat. It seemed each day, everything felt more real than the last. You knew you were having a baby, of course, but now that you knew it was going to be a girl…you felt so many conflicting emotions coursing through yourself: joy, worry, fear, doubts.

But when you looked upon Sylus, any insecurities you felt disappeared instantly, because you knew he would never leave you to handle things alone. If anything, you knew he would shoulder all of the hardship if he could just so you would never have to suffer for a second in your life.

“Sweetie…”

You gazed into his crimson eyes the moment you felt his hand on your cheek.

“Thank you…”

You blinked in confusion, but he never elaborated further. Instead, you felt his lips on yours, his touch more tender, more protective. As you parted, you saw his eyes drifted from the monitor to your belly, his expression was so tender and heartfelt.

You smiled when you realized you were no longer the only girl in Sylus’ heart.

Bright red eyes. Long, straight nose. Full lips.

“Are you not hungry tonight, sweetie?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes,” Sylus said, frowning, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Uh, no…” you responded, blushing in embarrassment.

“Then what’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking? Do you want to order something else?”

“N-no,” you answered, stopping Sylus from calling the waiter over. Your blush seemed to deepen even more, embarrassed for so many different reasons now. “It’s fine. The food is yummy. Look, I’m eating!”

You took a bite of the roasted chicken on your plate to prove a point. Sylus didn’t look satisfied, so you sighed in defeat and placed your fork and knife down. You breathed in slowly, preparing yourself for your little confession. “Alright…just…don’t laugh at me…”

He huffed in amusement at your preface.

“I just said don’t laugh at me!” you looked up, glaring at him.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded good-naturedly, “So what’s wrong?”

“I was…imagining…”

“Imagining?”

You blushed.

“Imagining what?” Sylus questioned, furrowing his brows as he leaned forward, reaching across the table to grab your chin, turning you to face him. “Answer me.”

“Just…what…the baby will look like…with your features…”

He blinked in surprise, letting go of your chin. He leaned back in his seat, chuckling in amusement.

“You’re laughing at me again!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he objected. He leaned forward again, his left elbow propped on the table, his chin cradled in his hand as he smiled smugly at you. “You’re just so cute.”

If it was possible, your blush probably deepened to another shade. You tried to focus on your dinner, but this time you could feel Sylus’ eyes watching you intensely. You could practically feel your heart pumping fast and hard in your chest. You startled when you heard him speaking again:

“But shouldn’t the baby also have your features as well, sweetie?”

“Well…probably,” you answered.

“I think she’ll look much prettier if she looks like her mommy.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t flatter me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s factual,” he countered with a grin. “And her mommy is very pretty.”

You quietly ate your dinner, pretending you didn’t hear him, though inside you felt delighted by his praises. Sylus continued to watch you eat, amused by your transparent act. He could practically see you brimming with joy at his compliments.

“Shall I order dessert?” he asked, already calling the waiter over. He didn’t even look at the menu, saying, “One of everything.”

You gaped. “We couldn’t possibly finish all of that!”

He shrugged. “We’ll take them to go then.”

“That—that’s not what I—” Your eyes widened as Sylus ignored your protests and gave the revised order to the waiter. “Sylus, that’s too much!”

He chuckled again. “Sweetie, you deserve to be pampered,” he said, “Let me lavish and spoil you during this special time.”

He reached across the table again, wiping your lips with his thumb. You heart skipped a beat as you watched him licked his thumb clean. “Besides,” he started, gazing at you fondly, “You’re already giving me the greatest gift ever.”

“I still think you ordered too much.”

“Complain all you want you, sweetie, but when it’s 2 AM and you are craving a lemon-raspberry cheesecake, you will thank me.”

“But I haven’t had that many cravings during this pregnancy! I’m actually a little disappointed…”

“Shall we play the guessing game then?”

“No alcohol.”

“I obviously wasn’t going to suggest—stop glaring at me.”

Another wet dream.

Some women were exhausted. (You were exhausted.)

Some have weird food cravings. (You had a different craving.)

Some may even be emotional. (You were very, very emotional.)

But you.

Well…you…were having wet dreams and an out-of-control sex drive. (Fuck.)

You woke up one morning groaning in annoyance. You remembered bits and pieces of the lewd dream, enough that you were squirming now that you were awake, feeling frustrated in parts because one: you couldn’t finish the dream, and two: you really needed to finish…

You suddenly noticed Sylus was asleep in bed next to you. You briefly wondered why you didn’t notice him getting into bed earlier, but the thought quickly dashed away when your sex-crazed brain suddenly noted appreciatively that he had fallen asleep in his bathrobe again, the belt barely tied around his waist, exposing his toned torso to you.

A book was lying next to him, and his reading glasses were tilted on his face. You surmised he must have fallen asleep while reading earlier. A mischievous thought found its way into your head, and for a brief second, you contemplated, questioning your own motives.

Well, you were only going to help him take his glasses off. You didn’t want them to break. You were just being thoughtful. Truly.

You hauled yourself up, groaning at the increasing difficulty with each day that your belly grew. You steadied your hand over your bump, giving it a gentle rub before you crawled over and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

Sylus was still asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly.

You held back a moan when you realized he hadn’t put on any undergarment after his shower. What a sneaky bastard.

You leaned forward, touching the frame of his glasses. You hissed when you felt your round stomach pressed forward, touching his toned abdomen. The crisp scent of his body wash wafted in the air so close to your nose, making you just want to lean forward and inhale deeply.

You shook your head, chiding yourself silently before you quickly took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand.

As you were about to climb off of him, you felt yourself brushing against him—against his bulge. You swallowed slowly, feeling a warmth spread in your core. You could practically feel yourself throbbing and aching inside.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Maybe you could be quick and…

You were just going to…

Sylus’ eyes shot opened when he felt a new weight on top of him. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of you on top of him, shamelessly grinding against him. His brain quickly caught up with the situation and he laughed, as he reached out to grab your hips, pulling you into his embrace.

“Well, good morning to you, too, sweetie,” he laughed, kissing your lips, “Is this how you’re going to wake me up from now on? Because I like it.”

You blushed in embarrassment. “I—I can explain.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Grinning, Sylus reached under your nightgown, cupping your sex and rubbing his hand against the fabric of your soaked panties, making you gasped and moaned loudly, the feel of him touching you was a welcoming friction. “Really?” he questioned, his voice dropping an octave lower, “You can explain why you’re so wet right now?”

“Sy-Sylus…” you practically whimpered his name, looking at him pleadingly. You were already suffering from your out-of-control hormones, and right now, that delightfully sinful and sultry voice of his was only making things worse.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he cooed, “Need to get yourself off on my cock?”

You really did whimper this time.

He looked amused as he undid the belt of his robe. You followed Sylus’ every movement, watching with rapt attention as he wrapped his hand around his magnificent cock and began stroking himself leisurely. His own eyes remained locked on you, relishing in the way you were reacting to him. You swallowed, feeling your insides pulsing, needing to be filled by him.

“Ride me,” he ordered. You shuddered at his tone, but you were also more than ready and willing to listen to him. He smirked as he helped you removed your drenched panties, amused by the needy state you were already in this early in the morning. He helped steadied you on top of him, helped you aligned yourself to him, and then in one fluid motion—

“Fuck…” Sylus threw his head back, groaning, as you eagerly sank down on his fat cock. He looked back at you, grinning at the sight of your aroused face taking him in so deeply. “If I’d known being pregnant would make you this insatiable, I would have knocked you up sooner, sweetie.”

You mewled happily when his large hand touched your round belly, rubbing it in slow circles.

“Look at you,” he crooned, leaning up and leading your lips to his. He nibbled on your bottom lip, his voice a soft murmur, “So sweet for me.”

You gasped as he reached out and pulled down the strap of your nightgown, exposing your breast. They had grown considerably throughout your pregnancy, the areolas had darkened, and your breasts felt very heavy with milk for the baby still in your womb. As you rode him, your breasts bounced heavily, the sight turning him on more and more.

You moaned as his hands groped you, his voice heavy with arousal, “Gonna keep you like this…”

You let out a shuddering gasp when he thrusted up, your hands instantly steadying yourself on his chest. You looked into his eyes as he rubbed your belly again.

“Sylus—”

You closed your eyes, gasping and panting as his mouth took in your sensitive nipple. A lick, a tease, and you could already feel it firming up as he sucked eagerly while his hands roamed your body, every touch of his making your skin burned hot. As the morning wore on, you couldn’t help but think how wonderful it would be when your milk would come in and he would have a taste as well.

You couldn’t wait.

“For the last time, Sylus, we are not buying everything in the catalog!”

“Why not? I can afford it.”

“I know you can afford it, but I don’t need all of these items. The baby doesn’t need all of these items!”

“Sweetie, I am only making sure you and my daughter will want for nothing.”

“Thoughtful, if not ill-conceived.”

“How heartless. You do not appreciate my generosity enough.”

“I will once you explain the crow-themed nursery you had Luke and Kieran planning.”

“A compromise since you will not allow me to make a mechanical crow for her.”

“Incorrigible.”

Sylus had always loved spoiling you, be it with material items, praises, or his affections. It was his sole belief that you deserved to be lavished, to be gifted and spoiled with the luxuries of the world, and within the bedroom, he made sure you were worshiped in other ways. Your every whim was his to answer, and he did so willingly, devotedly, and ardently.

The bedroom lights dimmed, and a record played soft, sensual music in the room.

You found yourself standing bent over his bed, large belly hanging low as he approached you from behind. Large calloused hands held your widened hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh and already drawing out your fluttering gasps as you trembled with anticipation, already shamelessly imagining that deliciously large, thick cock of his penetrating you so deeply, in ways no other man could ever compare.

He lifted your right leg, holding it higher at hip level to give him an even better access to your soaked pussy.

“You’re so beautiful…and all mine…”

You moaned into the mattress as you felt him easing in.

“Doing alright?” he questioned, showing a moment of hesitancy as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Yes…yes…Sylus…more…”

He smirked and continued, filling you just the way you wanted.

“I just want to keep you like this…” he murmured, sounding more like he was speaking to himself than you.

Heavy with my child…

Want to keep you bred.

Knock you up over and over and over again…

“Oh, Sylus, you’re being so rough!”

He startled, snapping out of his thoughts. He slowed his movements before bending over and kissing your shoulder apologetically. “I’m sorry, do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“I want you…please?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “How can I resist my dear hunter’s sweet request?”

As he began moving again, your fingers curled around the bedsheets, little moans escaped. Unwittingly, you mumbled into the sheets, your words reaching his ears, “More…want…to give you more…”

“What?”

You whined when he stilled. “Sylus…please…”

“What were you…saying?”

Your hand reached around your large belly, rubbing it provocatively. Sylus felt like he had stopped breathing. The very suggestion, the mere idea that you were already hinting that you would let him impregnate you again made him more aroused than he already was.

Sylus breathed in sharply, fingers pressing deeper into your hips.

He smirked.

He drove into you, fast and unforgiving, panting hard with a pleased grin on his face as you buried your face into the mattress, fingers gripping the bedsheets tighter as you cried out his name again and again.

“Are you going to let me fuck you like this again?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“Gonna let me put another baby in you after this one?”

“Yes, Sylus, yes!”

He groaned and buried himself deep inside you, his body loomed over yours, his sinfully deep voice close to your ear now. You shivered as he whispered into your ear, “Do you like being pregnant with my baby, sweetie?”

You moaned when his hand felt your large belly, rubbing it all over possessively.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…I love being pregnant with your baby!” you cried out, voice growing more desperate to his delight as you found yourself unable to stop the words from leaving your lips. “I want to have more of your babies, Sylus! Want to give you as many babies as you want—”

You screamed into the mattress as he picked up his pace again, taking you harder than before. Your tantalizing words seemed to only have spurred him on, his crimson eyes gleaming brightly while a smug smile graced his handsome face. You gasped and moaned, whimpering to him, “Ohhh…Sylus…! Gonna cum…ah…gonna cum, Sylus…!”

He groaned as he felt your walls tightened around him. He panted, his hands rubbing your hips soothingly as he husked, his own breathing uneven as he felt he was close to finishing as well, “C-cum for me, sweetie. Cum on my cock—”

He stilled, his head thrown back with a deep groan as he felt you coming undone, your euphoric cries music to his ears. With a few more hard, deep thrusts, his own climax came, and you felt him filling you with ropes after ropes of his cum. You felt so full.

He leaned over you, his body heavy on yours. You felt his warm kisses along your neck, his divinely rich voice so close to your ear. “You love being pregnant with my baby…you want more of my babies…”

“Uh huh…” you answered back breathlessly with a smile.

“Fuck’s sake,” he groaned at the sight of your suggestive, mischievous smile. “I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

He smirked and grabbed your chin, guiding your sweet lips to his. “When did I become so lucky?”

He pulled out with a groan, chuckling at the lewd sight of his cum dripping obscenely out of you and down your legs. He gathered you into his arms, smiling as you snuggled closer to him, tired but also immensely satisfied. You felt him laying you down in bed, settling in next to you and holding you close to his own body. Sylus watched over you as you rested next to him, his eyes fixated fondly on your sleepy face while his hand rubbed your belly soothingly to calm your restless baby in your womb.

“She’s moving so much tonight,” he murmured, bemused.

“Can you blame her?” you answered, eyes still closed, but your hand rested over Sylus’, guiding him to where you felt the most movements.

He chuckled. “Fair point,” he conceded. He leaned down and kissed your belly, whispering sweet words to your daughter, his voice holding so much love and devotion for the baby you two made together.

You opened your eyes, smiling at the sight of him caressing your belly adoringly. You had never thought there would be a moment like this in your life, never dared to dream of a love as sweet and pure as this. You wondered if you had traded all of the good luck in your lifetime for this man and the life you were both embarking on together.

“Do…do you want more?” you asked suddenly, voice tentative, almost fearful.

Sylus seemed to stop breathing for a moment.

“More…children,” you clarified.

He exhaled, and laughed. He settled more comfortably in bed, pulling you into his embrace, his hand already stroking your hair gently, already easing your worries. You relaxed under his tender ministration, eyes closing as you listened to his voice:

“Hearing the pitter-patters of little feet in this large house…why, that might be my new dream…”

You hummed in agreement before a yawn escaped. Sylus smiled.

“Shall I tell you a story, sweetie?”

“Mmhmm…”

“There once was a lonely old crow,” he began, gentle eyes gazing down at your sleepy face, “He lived only for himself…until he found a kitten…”

“A kitten?” you mumbled drowsily; eyes still closed. You yawned again and snuggled closer to Sylus. You sighed contentedly when you felt his hand stroking your head. His presence was so warm, so protective and loving, you felt like you could sleep and dream forever in his arms.

“A kitten,” Sylus repeated, continuing, “A kitten…he wanted to protect…and love…”

Sylus paused, hearing soft snoring. He looked down and saw that you had already fallen asleep. He stroked your hair, wrapping strands around his finger.

“They’ll live happily ever after together,” he promised.

Sylus had never cared for sunlight.

He had traversed in darkness and made himself ruler of a city shrouded in never-ending darkness. He lived within the shadows and only knew of this isolating world—of this existence.

Until he met you.

He had crossed over to your world, stepped into the light, into the warmth of the sun. Even though he still found the light unpleasant, he was willing to bear it all just to be near you. To see the joy on your face as you walked under the sun again after so long was a sight to see.

You always did make the sun more bearable, he thought, feeling your hand slipping out of his. You walked on unaware while Sylus fell behind, admiring the beauty in front of him.

Bathed in daylight, Sylus saw a blinding vision, a bright future with you in his life, by his side steadfastly. He knew he had stolen a piece of Heaven, already prepared and willing to pay the heavy price to keep what he had coveted.

“Will you be my wife?” he asked suddenly and you paused in your steps, realizing he had fallen behind. You turned and looked at him, cheeks tinged a pretty shade of pink, unsure if you had misheard him or not. “What did you say?”

He chuckled and shook his head in amusement at your coy look. He walked toward you slowly, but his long legs easily closed the distance between the two of you in no time. “Make an honest man out of me,” he said. Gentle crimson eyes peered down at you full of resolve and love. His hand caressed your cheek lightly, his voice soft and sultry, “Be my bride?”

“But…I’m pregnant,” you reminded him feebly, not noticing his confused look. You lowered your eyes to the ground, but truly all you could see was your large, round belly. It had been a while since you last saw your feet. You were all too aware of Sylus’ eyes on you, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as you replayed his earnest words in your mind. You continued meekly, “I’ll look fat in a wedding gown…”

He laughed. Sylus leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’re not fat,” he said sternly, “You’d look gorgeous even with this belly—why, I might enjoy it even more.”

You huffed doubtfully. You continued to avert gazes with him, but you could still feel the warmth of where his lips were on your cheek. Your heart continued to race and you could feel the baby in your belly growing more active, possibly sensing your tumultuous emotions. You unconsciously cradled your belly, rubbing soothing circles.

Sylus noticed and he smirked, tilting his head in amusement. He tipped your chin up, his lips mere centimeters from yours. “I want everyone to know that you and this baby are mine.”

“Sylus…”

“Sweetheart, it was always you,” he said, “There is no one else.”

He pecked your lips, so light and fleeting, you yearned for more. Your eyes rested on Sylus, his entire being engraved into your memories, into your heart, into your soul. When you looked into his beautiful eyes, you could see forever. There was only one answer you could give him.

“How about it?” he murmured, his deep voice was like honey to your ears, so sweet and sensual in the way he uttered just those three simple words. “Marry me?”

You smiled. “Guess this is forever…”

In mere seconds, you were enveloped in his warmth, his eyes seeing only you, only the life that was about to unfold.

“When did my luck change?” Sylus wondered aloud, stealing kisses after kisses from you.

When indeed…

The pieces of your lives fell into place, this picture of paradise becoming clearer with each passing moment. It was yours to keep, yours to hold.

How divine.

[disableddyke]

abled people will act so shocked when you tell them “actually yes, it DOES hurt when you make jokes at my expense or make fun of my disability” like hon. did you think i was just gonna laugh along with you when you were making fun of my brain fog and inability to speak properly?

[wandaverse]

playing with fire.

— buff firefighter!wanda x college student!reader

— summary: the 5 times you meet and the 1 time wanda lights a different kind of fire

— tags: pure fluff, major horniness, implied smut

— word count: 1,252 words

1. the first time you meet is late at night when there’s a fire in your dorm.

someone down the hall sets fire to their microwave trying to heat up a burrito. deeply asleep with fatigue from the week’s intense assessments, you don’t hear the screeching alarms.

without hesitation, a chilvarous wanda arrives at the scene and kicks down your door, carrying you out bridal style. wanda’s not complaining, not with the way you sleepily nuzzle into the safety of her neck.

through your sleepy haze you wonder who the buff woman carrying you out the building is, she smells like smoked cedar with faint hints of sea salt. you decide that you like this scent and the warmth that accompanies it.

2. you next meet at a sorority party gone wrong.

your friends get the stupid idea of trying fire breathing. the only thing you end up breathing though is clouds of smoke when your sorority house almost burns down. wanda arrives in the nick of time in her blaring red truck and douses the flames.

something else ignites within you though when you meet her properly for the first time, awake and certainly alert. you take in the sight of her breathless figure after rushing to fight the flames. so this is who saved you that night in your dorm… oh.

wanda is not particularly amused at you and your friends’ irresponsible antics. you shrink under the weight of her disapproving gaze, but also can’t help but cheekily grin. wanda can’t stay upset, she has to admit you look cute with ash all over your face.

3. your paths cross again when you notice a kitten stuck in a tree while studying on your campus’ lawn.

after many futile rescue attempts, you call emergency services and once again your knight in shining armour (or rather, reflective PPE) arrives. she gallantly climbs her ladder and saves the kitten. you don’t deny enjoying the view of her sunkissed skin when she takes off her jacket to swaddle the kitten.

afterwards, wanting to prolong the encounter, wanda asks if you want to ride with her in her fire truck to drop the kitten off at the nearest vet. you excitedly accept her offer and enjoy the trip around the city. wanda secretly steals fond glances at you, looking adorable with the kitten in your lap.

4. the next time you meet is not in the face of life threatening danger, but rather danger to your self-composure.

on a regular trip to the supermarket, you pass the row of calendars and your eyes land on a familiar face on the annual westview firefighters calendar sold for charity. you can’t ignore the curiosity that compels you to take a sneaky peak at its contents.

your cheeks instantly burn red when you turn to february’s page and find your favourite firefighter scantily clad and leaving little to the imagination. standing in a shallow pool of water with flames raging around her, wanda poses with an axe slung across her shoulders, wearing only a black training bra and her firefighter pants. her buff arms and unsurprisingly toned abs are on show as she stares directly at you the camera. you fight the urge to bite your lip at her flexed muscles, her sunkissed skin, the shine of her sweat mixing with ash. you’ve never felt so taken before, you forget your bearings for a second.

that is, until you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

your ears register her presence before your eyes and you quickly shut the calendar, throwing it back on the shelf as if its touch has burned you. you ready to make an excuse until you finally look up and find the firefighter just as scantily clad as, if not more than, her outfit in the calendar’s photoshoot.

wanda approaches you, seemingly in her post-workout fit and you have to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of her sweaty and taut arms and abs, only this time in real life. god, the photo doesn’t even do her justice. wanda calls out your name again with a husky laugh and your blush profusely, realising you’ve been caught ogling her not once but twice.

5. you meet once again when you move out to an apartment near campus and decide to cook dinner for yourself.

you quickly realise that you actually have no idea how to cook when your entire kitchen ends up in flames. wanda arrives just in time and puts out the grease fire. for a second, you can’t help but question fate. it’s as if there’s only one firefighter in all of westview with the way wanda always finds her way back to you. you’re not complaining though.

she turns to you and scolds you for your carelessness, but not before checking that you’re okay and not hurt by the wild fire. your heart secretly skips a beat at the continued display of care. ever the prince charming, isn’t she?

before she leaves for the next emergency, though, she asks you out for dinner instead. unsurprisingly, you say yes.

+1. the evening of your first date arrives.

you’re lounging on the couch in your apartment watching a sitcom when you hear a knock on your window. wanda has climbed up the fire escape and asks to be let in like a lost kitten. you lift open the window with a laugh and she tells you that she’s set up a picnic under the stars on the rooftop. she escorts you back out the window and up the fire escape. you giggle adoringly at her antics.

the evening goes well as you two happily find that the spark between you wasn’t imagined and isn’t going to fizzle out anytime soon. conversation flows naturally and you enjoy the food wanda has cooked for you. she jokes that at least one of you can cook, which earns her a playful slap. but when you reach over to do so, you accidentally knock over a candle and almost burn the entire picnic blanket. the fire is quickly avoided though thanks to wanda’s quick reflexes. she gives you a humuored tsk, but you secretly revel in her display of protection.

the evening comes to an end as the city around you calms down and the stars settle in for the night. wanda escorts you down the fire escape once again and the butterflies in your stomach continue to take flight. when you reach your window, you turn to wanda and thank her for the evening, for thinking of such a lovely idea and packing such a delightful picnic. when you place a goodbye kiss on her lips though and she takes you in her arms, you quickly realise that that’s not the only thing she’s packed.

wanda pulls back and blushes sheepishly at your realisation, but it’s enough to set you off. all night you’ve been teased with the sight of her shirt lifting and showing the slightest glimpse of her abs, the tight fit of her t-shirt’s sleeve around her arms, the simple yet alluringly attractive way she runs her fingers through her hair. she’s been teasing you all night and you decide that you’ve had enough. you quickly engulf her in kisses and pull her boldly through your window.

your night rages on and as the flaming sun begins to rise, wanda pleasantly learns that there’s one particular fire that she just can’t put out.

the end.

[chokepoet]

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

[k1tty5]

day 4: diverging paths

[johnslittlespoon]

can we get a little tas snippet? as a treat 🙏🏻

i cryyy yes u can, always! i never know if i should post more as i work on chapters bc i don't wanna spoil too much, but i also don't wanna be too inactive so <33 and might as well knock out the wip wednesday tags i've let build up all month oopsie! thank you @alienoresimagines, @nicijones, and @blixabargelds for the tagsss :')

“I just wanted you to know that I– that I didn’t change my mind,” John gets out, tracing his finger along a line on the kitchen table, stubbornly staring at the wooden surface, hastily adding, “y’know, if you didn’t either.” “That right?” John looks up at the question, watching as Gale turns to lean against the counter, bracing his hands on the edge of it, and John has to work to keep his eyes trained on Gale’s face. He nods meekly, tucking his sock–clad feet behind the legs of his chair to stop his own legs from bouncing. Gale smiles a bit and leans back, tilting his head. “You askin’ for something?” John’s face goes hot, and he feels like he’s been seen right through. His lips part, but he can’t get the words out; he can only blink up at Gale as he walks over to the table and leans on it in a near mirror image of the first time they’d spoken in the pub. “Hm?” Gale presses, and John nods again, eyes dancing around Gale’s face, heart mimicking the motions against his ribs. “You don’t have to ask, baby,” Gale tells him softly as he places a hand under John’s chin, tilting it up a little.

no idea who's been tagged already, it's been so long and i'm so behind on tag games ahhh, tagging @c-goldthorn, @air-exec, @stoneinyourshoe, @counting0nit, @eternallytired17, whoever else wants to <3

[splickedylit]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Homestuck Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Gamzee Makara & Karkat Vantas, "It's Complicated" Grand Highblood (Homestuck) & The Signless | The Sufferer Characters: Gamzee Makara, Karkat Vantas, The Signless | The Sufferer, Grand Highblood (Homestuck), Sollux Captor Additional Tags: Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Alternate Universe - Emperor Vantases, Harems, Pale Harem, Ghosts, Art/Writing Mention of the Sufferer's execution including;, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Dubiously Consensual Body Modification, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

==> Gamzee: How the fuck did you end up in the Conciliatrium of His Triumphant Ascendance?

Motherfucker that is exactly what you headed out today to find out. -- (An imported Choose Your Own Adventure from my pale porn tumblr, compiled here for ease of browsing)

[mara-xx]

Another snippet from my currently unnamed Carcar sugar daddy AU

"Now all we have to do is verify your account and we're good to go," Lando exclaimed happily, nudging himself into Oscar who was about three seconds away from jumping out the window.

"How does this even work?" Oscar asked when he finally got his phone back, noticing that the website looked incredibly similar to tinder.

"Swipe right if you like someone and left if you don't, pretty standard. It's pretty much a dating app exclusively for sugar babies to match with sugar daddies and mommies,"

"Okay...I can do that," Oscar said, hyping himself up to look through the profiles. He was acutely aware of Lando peering over his shoulder.

"What? I'm interested," Lando said defensively when Oscar looked at him with an unimpressed expression on his face. Oscar continued to stare at him until he backed off.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 9

MASTAPOST

Byleth trembled as the Guard gathered in the barracks later that night. He had been found floating belly up near the top floor after having sounded the alarm.

It wasn’t his fault! T-there was a s-s-SIREN. Right there! In front of him! It looked thin and waspish and starving, and he was sure it was gonna maul him to death right then and there. Did you see the teeth on that thing?! Byleth shuddered. His hand went to cover his gills. Imagine being chomped on the neck by that stuff. The stuff of nightmares.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, he wasn’t the only one terrified. Well, that was a little misleading. Byleth stood at attention in line with his fellow guardspeople, awaiting dismissal. The debrief was long and agonising, hearing details about how the siren lurked around unnoticed for hours, but most of his comrades were just irritated, or even disappointed. He glanced to the right, where Ableth was nursing his wounds from trying to tackle the little demon, and he wasn’t even fazed! Like, holy shit. If the siren got that close to him, he’d probably shit his pants right on the spot!

No, the one who was terrified was apparently the local administrator, currently having a ‘conversation’ (more like a shouting match) with their commanding officer out of sight, but definitely not out of earshot.

“It was a child! A baby! Do you even begin, begin to comprehend how bad this makes you, and by extension, me, look?! King Arthur will have our heads! Our heads!”

Their commander audibly sighed (which was a big yikes, considering how patient the guy was even on a bad day). “I understand your concerns, administrator, but this guard have done the best they can. The siren child was armed with weaponry the likes of which we have never seen before, and the raids have been tireless besides.”

“Blah blah blah blah do you even hear yourself? Maybe if you had trained these grunts better they wouldn’t have been out-matched by a toddler!” Byleth took offence to that. He’d like to see the office suit face up against that monster!

“Only one man was hurt, and he’ll be disciplined for his recklessness. The child did not set out to attack anyone, he was only stealing supplies, and fled when resistance appeared. It’s the same story as ever.”

“It sounds like your guards are as incompetent as ever!”

“The sirens have no way to access such advance weaponry. Do you understand what this means? If we don’t speak up, what will we do when a proper war band appears, each bearing these weapons? How many towns will they have razed before your dead spirit will be ready to admit the consequences of this cowardice?”

The administrator sputtered. The ridiculous loss of composure, and the raucous laughter of Byleth’s friends helped sooth the abject terror of a hundred more sirens appearing out of the ravines. By Poseidon spare them!

Line breakening~~

With the adrenaline running low, Damian ran on fumes as he twisted through the ravine, tracing back his fin-strokes to the cave where he’d left Phantom. Against all odds, he found it, and almost cried in relief. Throwing his newly acquired loot to the floor, Damian let his body drop like a cold iron, and passed out.

Danny felt pain. Like, all over. Everything hurt. Normally he’d be able to heal any injuries he got while siren fighting, and what a blessing that was. He wasn’t sure just how dense his parents could be, but he didn’t want to test it. The aching agony all over his body reminded him just how little he ate that morning, and man was he regretting it. Stupid Skulker and his stupid hunting dog dolphins. His stupid hunting doglphins. And stupid Damian for making him come close.

Well, that was a little harsh. He couldn’t blame the kid for believing the dolphin propaganda. They had a tight grip on the world, man.

The smell of blood prickled his nose. Danny shot up, fully awake. “Damian where ar-”

There the kid was, collapsed against the rocky floor of their makeshift hideout. Beside him, bags and satchels spilled out with food, bandages and weapons?! Guilt rocked up Danny’s body. Did Damian go hunting for food while he was unconscious? The kid’s tiny body was littered in bruises, and raw patches where the scales barely healed over. His sail was bent at an awkward angle too. Where the hell did he go?! Where did he get weapons?

No wait. Danny came closer and sniffed the loot closely. You had to be kidding him. There were Atlanteans nearby?! Part of Danny very much doubted the idea that the Atlanteans, probably the number 2 siren haters in the world aside from his parents, would just hand Damian a gift basket if he asked them to. So he stole from them?

Jazz would call this catasrophising, but she wasn’t around, so Danny felt pretty justified in panicking a little. Like, what was he thinking?! The Atlanteans would’ve skewered him without a second thought.

A small whimper caught his attention. Danny’s mental disaster train screeched to a halt. Damian was shivering, violently. Oh right. It was like, midnight or something in a deep ocean ravine. The kid was probably freezing. And if he wasn’t healing, that meant he was low on nutrients, and even lower on body heat.

Right, needed to care for the kid. Crap. He was planning on staying near the surface for most of the trip. A blanket was big and cumbersome and he didn’t have much storage space on him.

But goddammit if he let the kid freeze to death on his behalf. Resigning himself to a fate of being bitten once Damian woke up, Danny picked up the tiny, fragile guppy, and tucked him underneath his fins. As Danny began to eat his fill, he wondered just what kind of person he was going to be swimming across two oceans with, to be brave enough to go out singularly into the unknown…

Damian awoke to the sound of chewing, and gentle purring. He missed Alfred the cat. Poor kitty. He probably missed Damian too. It’s ok, Damian can make it up to him. He’ll give the little kitty all the pets and grooming he could ask for.

A weight settled on his hair, and- oh… oh that was so good. He didn’t know Alfred could pet him too. Maybe this was one of the good endings to his life, one where he’d spend life as a kitten, without a care in the world. That would be so nice, just being there and safe and warm. The hand stroked and straightened his hair, and it snaked down to where his ears were and scratched them. It was pure heaven. Damian thought that such a place would be forever closed off to him, but maybe the world had decided to be kind…?

“Woah, you’re actually lowkey super adorable like this.” Alfred said. Why did Alfred the cat sound like a pasty-faced teenage boy? He’d always imagined him like the real Alfred: prim, proper, distinguished.

“You sound strange, Alfred.” Damian mumbled. The hand scratched his ear again, and Damian’s purring intensified. “Please return to your proper voice at once.”

“Dude, I have no idea who that is.”

Nonsense. Damian had named his cat after a very distinguished man, and let him know it every time he saw him. How could he not know his own name?

“That is preposterous. You are Alfred the cat, my esteemed pet and loyal member of the family.”

Aflred the cat snorted. He snorted. “Oh my god that is so gold. I’m going to hold this over you literally until you grow old and wrinkly.”

Damian felt… offended. That was so mean! Why would Alfred the cat say such a thing, to him, Damian, his owner and friend! Damian always made sure to treat his pets with the care and respect they deserved, and this is what he got!?

“B-bad kitty. You will be disciplined.”

And Alfred the cat just kept laughing! Alright, the air of relaxation evaporated as Damian started getting annoyed. He opened his eyes, ready to teach his wayward cat some manners when-

The last 24 hours caught up again. Before him was not Alfred the cat, as he had thought, but Phantom completely healthy again, lying on his back, laughing his heart out. Almost literally, too. Damian watched as Phantom’s still beating heart, and water-filled lungs bounced and jiggled inside his chest cavity with each half-choked laugh. It was mesmerizing, and kind of nauseating.

Suddenly Damian couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, just an overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Phantom!” He cried out, voice almost cracking. Phantom tackled him into a hug, and Damian only put up a token resistance. It just felt so… right. “You are… You have recovered from your injuries.”

“It’s Danny, actually.” Phantom, er- Danny, said, voice soft, quiet. Almost vulnerable… “Danny Phantom. Most people just know the Phantom part.”

Danny… Daniel…. “I was foolish. I should not have ignored your warnings. Forgive me, Daniel.”

“Hey now, don’t you start picking up the Fruitloop’s habits. It’s never Daniel. Just Danny. Daniel’s a randomass human name, but Danny’s mine.”

“It does not change the fact that it sounds like a nickname. I… I do not do nicknames.” Damian said. Normally he paraded this fact as a matter of pride. With Richard, Drake, even Kent. Now, with Daniel encompassing his body in warmth, he felt strangely small.

“And I don’t do self-deprecation. So what about a deal? I’ll forgive you, if you promise to call me Danny.” The older boy said, voice leaving no room for argument. And yet, the playful tone underneath it gave Damian something akin to comfort. The way Richard did in the early days, despite Damian’s barbs and open threats.

“Very well, D-Danny.” Damian forced out. The name felt alien on his tongue. “This is a privilege few can boast to.”

Daniel- no, Danny, chuckled again. “You sound like a kid saying a swear for the first time and they’re really scared of being caught.”

“I am not a child.” He was never allowed to be.

“You are crazy though. And reckless. And that’s coming from me!”

Ah, so Danny figured it out. “You noticed the smell of Atlantean.”

“What were you thinking? They hate sirens. With a capital H.”

“I will not apologise for my actions in there. You needed food. It was my own poor judgement that got you injured, so it was my responsibility to rectify that.”

Danny was quiet for a moment. “I’m really trying to channel that ‘angry because I’m worried about you’ energy that my sister does, but you’re making it really difficult. Now I just feel bad.”

“They posed no threat to me. It was an easy operation.” Damian said. Danny sighed again.

“What am I gonna do with you? Outside of taking you home, that is.”

“For one, you could unhand me.” Damian’s words were hollow, even to him.

“And let you freeze to death? No chance. Now come on. The sun’s about to rise, and you need your breakfast.”

“Have you eaten enough yourself?” It would not do to let this foolish teenager hurt himself for Damian’s sake again.

“Dude, I’m like triple your size and age right now. It’s my job to be worrying over you.” Damian harrumphed.

It felt nice to be cared for again.

LINE BREAK BABY

Bruce hung up the phone. Dick was about ready to riot, and the others were on a wire-thin line too. It was one of the most exhausting calls he’d done in his life, but it had to be done. He wasn’t going to leave his family in the dark, not after Jason.

It wasn’t just he who had potentially lost a son, however. In his hours of maddened searching, he’d glossed over the fact that the son of local siren hunters, the Drs Fenton, had also gone missing. Tim was already on the case, sifting through thousands of hours of CCTV footage to analyse the kid’s behaviour of the course of the last six weeks. Two unrelated boys going missing at the same time. And one boy had been displaying suspicious behaviour for months before hand. Something was up.

And so Bruce straightened his tie. He refused to wear any form of black. Not now, not yet, while there was still hope to be clung to. His trip to Fentonworks was in part to share condolences, and in part to investigate. Wherever Damian was, the clues lay somewhere surrounding Daniel Fenton.

He just hoped Damian had to be ok. If this hope died, Bruce felt like he might die with it.

[dramavixen]

Love and Redemption: A Fantasy Epic About How Prejudice Destroys Worlds, and How Love Pieces Them Back Together

**major spoilers for: Love and Redemption

After wrapping up a watch-through of Mysterious Lotus Casebook, my mom had the brilliant idea that we should rewatch the work that launched Cheng Yi to fame (or at the very least solidified him as the man to hire if you need someone to spit blood): Love and Redemption. 

I’m certain she only found this idea appealing because she doesn’t remember a TV show after it’s over. Credits rolling? Aight, time for the woman to clear up space on her brain’s memory drive. Meanwhile, my life flashed before my eyes as I recalled the anguish that’s synonymous with the show’s plot. But you know how things go when your mom wants something. If she says you're sitting through 44 hours of emotional torture with her, then you plant yourself on that couch until it’s over.

Ironically, Love and Redemption fares even better on rewatch. Though other xianxias have come close to its place in my heart, I’m now concerned that my palate won’t be so easily satiated again. It’s got your conventional reincarnation, warring realms, and a star-crossed romance while throwing curveball after curveball to shatter your expectations. Complex characters, too? An endgame villain who will haunt you in your sleep? You can’t ask for more. 

Just because you didn’t ask, doesn’t mean that the show won’t deliver something extra. I like to think that nothing reflects a society’s unsightly reality like a well-done fantasy, and this one hits closer to home the more time that passes. A thinly veiled commentary on human flaws and how difficult it is to be a good person, Love and Redemption is a drama for the ages.

This is going to get lengthy, so to prepare you, here’s how I’m divvying up this piece:

Part I: All of Them Are Classist

Part II: All of Them Are Sexist

Part III: All of Them Are Racist

Part IV: Love Wins All

---

Part I: All of Them Are Classist

It’s not my intention to disgust anyone right out of the gate, but we need to talk about Wu Tong. Do you hear what I hear? Yes, it’s the distant echo of Wu Tong’s nefarious laughter, resounding between the walls of my skull.

Quite simply, Wu Tong is the worst. (Or at least he would be, if it weren’t for that other fellow named Bai Lin. That dude will get a glaring spotlight later in this essay, trust me.) But it’s not for no reason.

Coming from a background of poverty, Wu Tong spends most of his young life trying to prove himself to upper class cultivators who don’t have any interest in who he is, only in what he has to offer them. He earns his place in his sect through relentless hard work. He utilizes unsportsmanlike methods in his attempts to win the battle tournament in opening episodes. It's not just a competition to him—he's directly told that if he gets anything other than first place, he can forget about keeping his place in his sect.

When he and the protagonists first meet, his prideful personality results from his inferiority complex. There’s no doubt that he’s a powerful cultivator, but the issue is how he finds that to be his only real value. He doesn't bother to be likable, because what's the point in doing that? Being likable doesn't fill an empty stomach. But the more he disrespects others in an effort to make himself appear important, the more others look down on him, and the more he overcompensates by fighting back even more. It’s a vicious cycle—one that never ends because no one involved wants to take the first step back.

Knowing what type of person he becomes, it’s hard to pity him in any capacity. However, it would still be unfair to ignore how others mistreat him before he even turns into a true enemy.

One scene that sticks out to me happens early on, where Wu Tong nearly injures Xuanji during a 1v1 battle against Minyan. The protagonist crew insists on getting payback. Okay, I’m with it. You can’t let such reckless violence slide. I guess they’ll get their revenge in a later stage of the tournament by beating him into the ground? 

Nah. That would be too reasonable. What they actually opt for is tricking him to fall into a trap by putting up a “have you seen my lost snake?” poster with a financial reward, knowing that he’ll be fooled because…he’s poor.

Sifeng: I asked around. Wu Tong was born to a family of lower status. He lives frugally. The reason he trains so hard is because he hopes to become someone powerful one day. […] Now he needs the money urgently to buy medicine and recuperate his inner strength before his next battle. Minyan: When you put it that way, doesn’t that mean he has no choice but to come for the ten night pearls?

Sifeng…oh no. Not you too.

The way Wu Tong behaves doesn’t warrant anyone being amicable toward him. I, too, have a nonexistent tolerance for obnoxious, violent egoists. But if later episodes are any evidence, this scene foreshadows that two wrongs won’t make a right. If they want to teach him a lesson, they shouldn’t stoop so low as to take advantage of his poverty. His family background is the one thing about him that isn’t his fault, yet it’s the one thing they choose to use against him. That’s what I call “going too far.”

Now that he's been hit where it hurts, Wu Tong feels justified in going too far himself. In a fit of desperation and contempt prompted by his master abandoning him, he stabs Xuanji. Not great. Things get extremely not great when you remember that Xuanji is the daughter of a sect leader. That quickly transforms Wu Tong’s attempted murder/almost manslaughter into the evilest act known to mankind. All five sects turn against him to hunt him down and kill him. I’m no law or philosophy expert, but I’m pretty sure the punishment for almost manslaughter is not the death penalty. 

The five sects can treat him as their prey because he doesn’t have a support system to counter them. If he were the son of another sect leader, the thought of killing him would never even have entered their minds. Targeting him so relentlessly has less to do with justice and more to do with exerting power over a lower-class young man who hurt someone infinitely more “important” than him. 

That imbalance between crime and punishment is what pushes Wu Tong over the edge. He goes on the run for several years before officially succumbing to the call of evil, after which he becomes truly irredeemable. Still, you’re occasionally reminded of his struggle—is he destined to be a villain? Or is throwing aside his remaining morality just his best chance at survival? 

Do you have any idea how I survived these past several years, when you were all trying to kill me? What did I do back then that was so unforgivable? Did your sister die? Was it warranted for all five sects to team up against me, an average disciple? Was it warranted to back me into a corner over and over again, to force me to claw out of hell? Open your eyes and look at me! These past four years, I’ve already died countless times. Every time, I clawed my way back out of hell. Five hundred taels? You want to take my life with a measly five hundred taels? Don’t look down on me. Touch here. I have a fake leg. That’s what your five sects have left me with. What’s that look of yours? Guilt? Pity? I’m not telling you this for you to pity me. I, Wu Tong, survived this far because I must have my revenge.

Something my mom likes to say is if you find yourself going against someone—but especially a dangerous person—you must leave a path for their survival. It’s less for their sake than it is for yours. Should you eliminate all their options, they’ll have no choice but to bite. And they’ll make sure it hurts like hell. 

As an impetuous teenager, Wu Tong is in the wrong. He needs to be taught that his actions are unacceptable. But that can’t be accomplished by putting a bounty on his head and demanding that he be murdered. That’s how you turn a scoundrel into a monster.

Minyan, Wu Tong’s foil, similarly doesn’t come from an optimal background. An orphan, he was taken in by the Shaoyang Sect without the obvious pressure that Wu Tong suffers. Even so, he can’t escape the innate inequality that seems to exist between him and his fellow disciples. It especially affects him because he’s in love with Linglong, Xuanji’s sister but more importantly…also the daughter of the sect leader! Poor guy.

When I was little, kids in the village would surround me every day and call me a bastard child with no parents. I could only pretend that I didn’t hear them. Because if I took it to heart, they would only ridicule me more. We can’t shut the mouths of people who want to slander us. But we can choose not to listen.

He may think that he’s past it, but later episodes see Minyan being manipulated using that exact insecurity. It’s easy to impersonate his master and nudge him to become a “spy” in the enemy base because he’s compelled to prove himself worthy of the sect and worthy of Linglong. Fake Sect Leader Chu Lei tells him:

When I first met you, you were only eight years old. You were homeless on the streets, starving and shivering. Still, you clung to your family dagger and refused to pawn it. In that moment, I knew that you were a child with an iron will. That’s why I’m here to find you today.

I can agree that Minyan is really stupid to immediately believe that his master, a guy well-known for pretending to do important things more than he actually does them, would tell him to do something as reckless as invade enemy territory. However, he also heeds the impostor’s instructions because realistically, his master asking him to prove himself is something that could happen. Any good disciple would naturally want to repay their masters for their favor, let alone a disciple who would otherwise have nowhere else to go.

The contrast between Minyan and Wu Tong shoves itself in your face as you watch, primarily through their respective relationships with Linglong (well, one of them has a relationship. The other is a creep. Can you guess who’s who?). Without family backing, the two men both struggle to find their place in the world, but they’re complete opposites purely because of their upbringing. Thankfully for Minyan, he found a family amongst people who don’t treat him as “another,” even if he may think of himself as such.

Wu Tong isn’t so fortunate. You can say it’s his own doing, a result of his terrible personality, but he certainly wasn’t born like that. And now someone will pay for it.

---

Part II: All of Them Are Sexist

As a caveat, I’ll mention that the main cast really could have used a woman who isn’t some combination of foolish, lovestruck, and/or loud. But I’m willing to overlook it just this once because the writers excel in highlighting both the ladies' flaws and how we as an audience exaggerate those flaws through our own preconceptions. 

Working backwards in terms of plot importance, we can start with Xiao Yinhua. Sifeng’s snake familiar in a human form, Xiao Yinhua is like most female leads from the turn of the millennium in that her only real strength is throwing temper tantrums. She’s also like most second female leads from the turn of the millennium in that she constantly prefers using underhanded tactics and harming others to achieve her goals—in other words, a snake. Oh. I guess that makes sense.

Her affections toward Sifeng cloud her already nonexistent judgment and prompt her to make some of the worst decisions made by anyone, ever. At first, I thought I was being unfair toward her because of my own internalized misogyny. But no. I can say with absolute confidence that I would abhor this character no matter what gender or creature or object she may be. She has no redeeming qualities aside from teaching us that someone foolish, lovestruck, and loud is doomed to self-sabotage. From that perspective, she’s still a valuable character to have because now we know that before we act, we should think: would Xiao Yinhua do that thing? If she would, do not do that thing. 

If Xiao Yinhua were willing to grow up, she could become more similar to Zi Hu. Zi Hu almost acts as a parallel to Sifeng—hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t return the affection for a literal thousand years. Also, both are very pretty. Ahem.

Zi Hu’s thousand years’ worth of experience gives her the skills to back up her unrelenting feelings for Wu Zhiqi. She’s a rarity in that her driving force is a man—a motivation that's typically a reputation ruiner for female characters—but you find her lovable instead of thinking that she lacks self-respect. The key is that her love isn’t blind and rash like Xiao Yinhua’s. Zi Hu has a plan to save Wu Zhiqi from his prison and she carries it out with intention. In other words, it’s okay to focus on love, but only if you can take responsibility for your feelings. 

Ting Nu: Why go so far? When did Wu Zhiqi ever tell you that he loved you? Your affections are merely one-sided. Zi Hu: When did he tell me he didn’t love me? Look, once I rescue him, he’ll have to be with me to thank me. 

Because Zi Hu is a literal fox, people suspect her both for being a demon and for being the demon notorious for seducing men to consume their souls. The latter is quickly debunked and becomes less of an issue than her just being a plain demon. I nonetheless find it hilarious how everyone balks when she shows them her harem of men gleefully living in her backyard. Yep, she’s a cunning vixen. You can just keep wishing you could join that harem.

Zi Hu: You're trying to shoo me away. You think I’ll storm out because of your petty tricks? You’re underestimating me. I’ve already decided, starting today, I’m going to follow you everywhere. Even if you don’t want me to, I’m going to cling to you. This old spirit isn’t going to let those thousand years of waiting be in vain. Wherever you go, I’m going with. If you dare sneak peeks at other pretty women, I’ll dig out your monkey eyes. All in all, if I’m around, no pretty woman can enter your vision. As if you could bear to leave me behind if I hang around for another thousand years!

Xiao Yinhua and Zi Hu aren’t overly victimized based on their gender within the show itself. For the better too, because whoever dares to do so would probably end up dead by a fox's claws and a snake's teeth. These two characters' existences test your innate view of female characters instead. What is it that matters to you in a female character? What standards do you hold against them?

(**Content warning for the below segment until the next purple break: brief mentions of sexual assault and suicide.)

And that's where we come to Linglong. Linglong is a loudmouthed spoiled brat. She's overbearing, and while she wants to protect Xuanji, her method of doing it is by crying crocodile tears and throwing temper tantrums in front of their father. No wonder she and Xiao Yinhua clash—two childish people who both have a compulsion to win arguments? Forget it.

A bulk of the drama sees Linglong’s primordial spirit being taken and held captive by Wu Tong. Wu Tong puts half of her primordial spirit into the body of a flower demon, whom he also forces to take on Linglong’s physical appearance. No other reason, he just wants to have his way with someone who looks and acts like Linglong, the person who jeered at him all those years ago. By the time the real Linglong recovers her primordial spirit, Wu Tong has done enough damage that she’s haunted by nightmares and memories of someone who assaulted her when she couldn't even fight back.

The lead-up to this arc is incredibly disturbing and takes root in the very first episode. On my first watch-through, I thought their relationship would take a classic enemies-to-lovers path. The directors and writers pull you in this direction with no subtlety, showing a smitten Wu Tong when he first lays eyes on Linglong. They then keep the scam going by having him act out in awful ways as he attempts to gain her attention. That’s right, it’s the brainwashing girls receive when they’re on the playground: “he pulls your hair because he likes you."

During their first meeting, Linglong is surrounded by a halo filter from Wu Tong’s perspective. Knowing what he’ll later do to her makes the seeming innocuousness of this scene revolting, but it's necessary. It's the first of many steps to prove that someone’s “affections” can’t be used as an excuse for harming whomever’s on the receiving end of them. 

Linglong can be an extremely annoying person. Her outspokenness and difficult temper shape her into an unlikable character, which then ensures that by the time Wu Tong captures her, the audience almost instinctively wants to say that it’s her fault. We all know the talk track: “he liked her, so why couldn’t she just have been nicer to him? She asked for it by being mean to him.”

When Linglong first offends Wu Tong, it isn’t for no reason: she’s angry because he endangers her sister’s life over and over again. Admittedly, she goes overboard in her retaliation against him. So what? Linglong being mean to Wu Tong and Wu Tong later targeting her are indeed connected events, but the former doesn't justify the latter. If we say that the five sects hunting Wu Tong down isn’t a fair punishment, then isn’t it also unfair for him to turn the tables on her in such a way? 

Essentially, Linglong isn’t the “ideal” victim. That’s what makes her arc all the more heartbreaking. To this day, society wants to find any excuses for the assailant. Any mistake, any flaw of the victim's will be used against her. As humans, maybe it’s instinct for us to hope that bad things only happen to bad people, and victim-blaming is our twisted way of making that an impossible reality. 

Overcome with depression and trauma, Linglong is unable to come to terms with what Wu Tong did to her. Men gossip about her and her “relationship” with the enemy, sometimes harassing her straight to her face. Wu Tong himself finds great delight in taunting her about her “sharing his bed,” not only relishing the memories but also enjoying how much it torments her.

Linglong: It was my fault that I was captured by Wu Tong, wasn’t it? [...] Everyone thinks so. I didn’t want to be captured by Wu Tong. But after Wu Tong said all those things, everyone thinks so. Minyan: Linglong, why care about what everyone else thinks? Just pretend that you didn’t hear any of it. Linglong: But I did hear them. Why do I need to pretend I didn’t? It’s something that actually happened, so why do I need to play dumb and trick myself into thinking it didn’t? Are you going to be like them too, and mock me?

All the accusations brainwash her into thinking everything is her fault. To Wu Tong and all the people judging her, she’s nothing but a pawn to be used for their own entertainment. And once she and Minyan leave the protection of the sect, everyone finds her an easy target to push around. Hoping that her death will mean freedom for both herself and her loved ones, she attempts to drown herself before being yanked back to life and reality by Minyan.

Linglong’s struggle is many women’s worst nightmare. It’s also a diligent representation of PTSD, something that I normally wouldn’t expect from a xianxia drama. Even after she's rescued and everyone tells her that her suffering is over, it never feels over for her. At night, Lingling is awoken by harrowing dreams of Wu Tong returning to kidnap her once again:

Nightmare!Wu Tong: You’ll always belong to me. You can’t escape.

The conclusion to her arc being Wu Tong’s death and his literal letting go of her may be quite idealistic. But I prefer to think that giving Linglong her happy ending is the writers’ way of trying to assuage our fears, of showing us that there will always be another sunrise regardless of what happens.

(**Content warning end.)

Linglong becomes the drama’s strongest woman-centric plot, and I really love that the writers did it with a character whose personality isn't the most appealing. She's the imperfect woman we can find in every corner of the world, a representation of women overall instead of the minority who are considered "deserving" of justice.

Next to her, Xuanji also gets a short end of the stick. She's constantly being pushed to marry Hao Chen. Every excuse in the book is used against her: they're a fated couple, he's the only one that can take care of her, doesn't she agree that this is a part of her duty? No matter how logically she objects to it, no one really cares what she thinks. If she objects, she’s being headstrong, and that’s the end of it. (More on Xuanji to come in Part IV of this essay.)

And aside from Bai Lin’s more obvious transgressions (we're getting to those), what really irked me is just how twisted he makes the God of War’s rebellion appear in others’ eyes. The logic turns quickly from “Bai Lin must have done something wrong” into “the God of War must have been in love with Bai Lin and grew resentful that he rejected her.” I guess it’s very believable that the God of War would want to destroy the entire universe because some guy wouldn’t date her? That’s right, you can be the most accomplished woman in your field and someone will still want to attribute everything you do to being motivated by romance.

Naturally, the next question is—why is Bai Lin such a weirdo? Why does he insist on turning his friend Luohou Jidu, a man, into a woman when creating the God of War? Hmm. I smell a waft of homophobia...

---

Part III: All of Them Are Racist

And except for a small minority, I really mean "all of them" this time. Humans and celestial beings are racist toward demons. Demons are racist back toward humans and celestial beings. If you asked both sides who started it, they'd point at the other without hesitation. "They started it. By existing."

I don’t even know where to start with this topic. Part of me believes this entire section of analysis could be extraneous—do I really need to do a deep dive when you could just click a random timestamp of a random episode and have a 50% chance of finding a character saying something incredibly racist? No case studies necessary. The drama is the case study.

Obviously, while I may say that all the different races are racist toward one another, some are notably more egregious in their discrimination than others. The five sects, being in power, are the worst offenders. Every other second, someone is reminding another that they need to wipe out demons. Just the utterance of the word “demon” makes them froth at the mouth. In their possession, they have treasure troves of weapons and magical devices whose collective main purpose is to identify and kill demons. Perhaps you know someone in real life who thinks that hating something is a personality trait—that’s the five sects in a nutshell.

Zi Hu and Ting Nu are continuously snubbed for not being human even after they’ve long proven that they’re more help than harm. Ting Nu is a doctor, but even saving Hao Chen doesn’t make them think of him as anything but a demon who is evil in his very bones. Demons can do everything right, but the high and mighty humans are too pure and innocent to associate with them…aside from killing and torturing them, of course.

Highlighted Exhibit A: Sifeng almost being tortured and whipped to death based on the mere suspicion that he’s a demon. The fact that he is one doesn’t matter. His assailants operate on the doctrine that they’d rather kill an innocent person than let a demon roam free. Every action to rid the world of a demon is a virtuous one. It's a reenactment of the Monty Python witch trial but they're being completely serious. 

Highlighted Exhibit B: the other sects band together to wipe out Lize Palace without solid confirmation as to whether they’re all demons. They’re operating on the same principle as in Exhibit A, so at least you can praise them for being consistent.

Highlighted Exhibit C: before Sifeng is revealed to be a pretty bird, Xuanji’s repeated defense of him consists of "Sifeng isn’t a demon." The main purpose of these lines is to instill further fear into Sifeng and give him more reason to keep lying to her, all while Xuanji's trust in him deepens. But is it also some of her lingering innate judgment seeping through? A subconscious understanding that her family and sect will never accept a demon as her boyfriend? Well, joke’s on them because he’s one hot bird.

So how are you supposed to survive as a demon? Lize Palace results from the humans’ desire to eradicate an entire race of demons. Just as Wu Tong is driven only by revenge, the demons of Lize Palace just need to survive for long enough to one day remove their masks and live as themselves. Humans’ endless thirst for blood does nothing but fuel demons’ fire of rebellion and keep the wheel of tragedy turning.

As for the “bad guys” of Tianxu Hall? At least when they commit the same acts of evil as the other five sects, they’re willing to admit that being evil isn’t beyond them.

Yuan Lang is an extremely successful villain for this very reason. All of us love Yuan Lang, so much that we start grinning whenever he comes on-screen with his fan and sarcastic mouth. So much that when it's revealed he's been consuming people's souls, all my mom had to say about it was: “Oh. That's mean of him.”

He plots and he lies and he murders, but he doesn’t put up a facade of holding himself to a lofty moral standard. It’s also quite telling that while Yuan Lang machinates behind the scenes, 90% of his time is spent standing by and calling others out on their bullshit. Everyone around him creates their own downfall. He just happens to benefit from their stupidity.

Man with a fan and a plan. I like. 

Even so, Yuan Lang isn’t invulnerable to emotion. One of my absolute favorite scenes is where Di Lang sacrifices himself so Yuan Lang can make a getaway. It’s the only instance of Yuan Lang being subject to the pain of caring about someone else. Those short moments contrast so starkly against the sects’ inhumanity that suddenly, a revolution doesn’t seem all that bad.

Behind the bulky mask, his despair is apparent. Man. This actor’s come a long way since his F4—I mean, H4 days. If you've never watched Let's Go Watch Meteor Shower Together, don't.

Finally, we arrive on the topic of Bai Lin. Oh, boy. I still haven’t watched Blood of Youth because seeing the actor’s face triggers my fight-or-flight response. And it’s been years.

Bai Lin, the one racist to rule them all. The guy must have a handbook on “How to Be Racist” or something—how else could the contempt that spews from his mouth, the spark of repugnance in his eyes, and the brazen obstinacy in his opinions be so immaculate?

The entire drama consists of setting the stage for the full reveal of Bai Lin turning Luohou Jidu into a weapon of war to be used against his own people. By the time all the pieces fall into place, you’ve already witnessed the tragedy created by discriminatory practices between mortals. You've seen how Sifeng is targeted and Xuanji forced to move her hand against him. You've seen how the sects use their power to harm instead of help. You've seen how demons plot their revenge for centuries. Once Bai Lin is confirmed to be the genesis of all that, there’s nothing left for you to feel but utter revulsion.

Bai Lin: Celestial beings and demons cannot coexist. How could my Heavenly Realm possibly hold a marriage with the Devil Tribe? Luohou Jidu: Celestial beings and demons cannot coexist...Then why do you drink with me today? Why are you friends with me? Bai Lin: Naturally, Brother Jidu, you’re different from other demons and devils. Out of all the demons and devils in this world, Brother Jidu is my only friend.

Can’t believe he even pulls the "you’re one of the good ones" card.

Bai Lin, practitioner of unethical tactics: his ultimate decision to trick and use Luohou Jidu results from racism-induced paranoia. He simply can’t believe that his friend will remain his friend, not unless he becomes "one of us." He thinks the God of War should appreciate that he's given her power and invested his time and energy in her tenth reincarnation, going so far as fool her into thinking that they loved each other once upon a time. Once Xuanji shows herself capable of independent thought, he doesn’t hesitate in turning against her and manipulating her to destroy her own self. He eventually sacrifices the entire world for the Heavenly Realm's survival. After all, what's the value of an entire planet's human and demon population in the face of his power?

He's the representation of what happens when those in power, those who have the best chance of righting wrongs and preventing more from happening, decide to perpetuate the problem. At the same time, he presents the predicament that those we rely on to give us justice are also victims of their own emotions and fears.

I venture to say that Bai Lin is the best-written antagonist in modern xianxia. He’s ruthless but has a moral compass, albeit one that only points in one direction—toward himself. His hubris aside, you have to admit that he genuinely believes he's acting for the greater good. The ends justify the means because he thinks he’s bettering the world.

Bai Lin makes awful decisions that involve genocide and cruelty because he operates on a strict utilitarian philosophy. "I do what I think will bring the best results, even if it means sacrificing something huge in the process." He’s the most dangerous character and the person we should also fear in real life because he’ll stop at nothing to create his definition of a paradise.

It would be easy to dismiss him as simply being a bad person. However, this show draws from reality in that every person exists in a gray area between good and bad. You can lean one way or the other, but you don’t fall completely into either. And that’s the foundation of the show's conflicts. Everyone's so busy trying to define what’s right and wrong that they’ve lost sight of basic compassion.

When he’s finally faced with the consequences of his actions, Bai Lin is driven to despair. He feels true remorse over what he’s done, but only because he’s fortunate enough to actually witness how the thousand-year conflict wouldn't have existed without him. We as people aren’t so lucky—those “what if”s will forever remain in the shrouded realm of impossibility.

Heavenly Emperor: You always thought that evil had sparked in the hearts of the God of War and Luohou Jidu. But the one in whom evil truly sparked was you. All things and happenings in this world are originally empty. From emptiness comes meaning. Yin and yang reverse; they support and restrain one another. The Heavenly Realm was originally empty. The Asura, too, was empty. If all is empty, then how could the Heavenly Realm be superior; and the Mortal Realm, Demon Realm, and Devil Realm be inferior? Your excessive concern for the safety of the Heavenly Realm prompted evil to take root in your heart, unable to be undone.

Seeing him in such despair almost makes me feel bad for him. Maybe I do have too much sympathy.

At this point, it's already too late to repair the damage he's caused, a realization that causes him further anguish. He rids himself of his divinity to show his remorse and accepts death. But he's already caused so much pain to everyone else. Who can put back together the world that he's destroyed?

---

Part IV: Love Wins All

(We love IU for her perfect song that also gave me the best possible final section title.)

As I seek to be conscious of my own biases, I once wondered: why is it that shaking my head at a female character for being dedicated to a man comes so naturally to me, but I can’t be more gleeful to see Sifeng put his heart out on a platter for Xuanji? Perhaps I’m also sexist. Perhaps I have double standards.

Then I thought about it some more and realized everyone loves Sifeng because he’s so blatantly unrealistic that you’re immediately able to sink yourself into his fictional beauty. He transcends gender norms because there is no person of any gender who would go to the extent that he does for Xuanji, nor is there anyone who could remain as levelheaded when faced with some of the most shameless people known to mankind. Forget all the people flying on swords and uttering magic spells. The biggest absurdity in Love and Redemption is its male lead. Yes, I'm a skeptic. But we're so lucky to have him.

Sifeng grew up in a bizarrely backwards environment where—instead of girls needing to cover up to not attract men’s attention—all men need to protect themselves by wearing masks and not associating with the opposite sex. Brainwashed for years to believe that Lize Palace is the only safe space for golden fire birds like himself, he keeps cautious around people while still harboring a subconscious longing for their warmth.

In my entire life, I never knew what a "friend" is. I finally understand now, the meaning of "fervent friendship."

Sifeng is established as the loyal lover extremely quickly. He's whipped—figuratively and literally—for Xuanji, his sheltered childhood leaving him defenseless against her unintentionally flirtatious mannerisms. He teaches her about her lost senses without judgment, nurtures limitless patience with her and others by proxy, and isn't afraid to question the status quo.

We love Sifeng for his wisdom and levelheadedness. He sees things for what they are and is commonly the voice of empathy and reason within a world of selfishness. The entire show is Sifeng going, "I might as well do it myself" in every situation because no one else cares, is capable enough, or both. He's the guy in group projects who quietly does everything and doesn't even get mad that you're the most useless team member ever. What a saint.

In the xianxia universe, he's distinct husband material (which isn’t saying much since the bar there is so low that you'd need to dig yourself a grave to reach it—which is also great because then you already have a place to go once your xianxia spouse gets you killed. I digress). His loyalty to not only others, but also who he is and what he wants, leaves him able to counter the complacency with hatred and evil permeating the world around him.

With his endless empathy, he's able to understand Luohou Jidu. While Sifeng's earliest motivation in facing the greatest devil is only to save Xuanji, he later views Luohou Jidu as an individual with his own sufferings. He's the only one to truly view Luohou Jidu as himself, not someone to eliminate, not just an extension of Xuanji. To Sifeng, everyone deserves a chance to be heard before a verdict is passed over them.

Not to mention, these two’s interactions are absolutely hilarious. I wish I could've seen the extensive conversations that must’ve went on in the censorship agency over them. 

Fellas, is it gay to clasp a guy’s hands within your own and stare deeply into his eyes while reminiscing about your loving relationship if he’s technically got a woman captive in his brain? 

But perhaps what shines the brightest about Sifeng is how he suffers. He's so pretty when he suffers. Wait. That's not my point.

When his Lovers’ Curse triggers for the first time, Xiao Yinhua speaks the gospel that a lot of the audience probably has in mind: "you did so much for her, you were so good to her, but she doesn’t love you back." And it sounds kind of right? But also kind of not? Then Sifeng opens his mouth and you think, "oh, crap, I've been brainwashed by misogyny yet again."

She never asked me to like her. If someone wants to kill another just because she doesn’t reciprocate their feelings, then that person will never be loved. They also don’t deserve to love another.

Again and again, Sifeng puts himself in harm's way to keep loving Xuanji. Sure, he wants her to love him back, but that's secondary to his desire to be honest with his own feelings.

With the bright beacon of light that is Sifeng’s blinding love, I feel most viewers overlook Xuanji’s capabilities as a female lead. Her comparative passiveness in the relationship makes it seem as if she doesn’t love him enough. I attribute this to the same reason as our previous conclusions, that female characters in romance dramas have a harder time garnering the audience’s approval than their male counterparts. Are we innately more judgmental toward women, or is the standard for men still so low that we’re already impressed when a guy surpasses the bare minimum? Probably both.

It's easy to forget that Xuanji is the one who's nice to Sifeng first. When they first meet, Xuanji literally falls into his arms. Then he just…drops her. (And they say chivalry is dead.) But Xuanji doesn’t care.

The rules of his sect push Sifeng into being a bit of a porcupine in his demeanor. He puts up a wall against everyone, but especially Xuanji. After all, as an innocent boy, Sifeng needs to protect himself from evil women. Or something.

Xuanji is the one who can't take the hint tries to befriend him and tears down his wall with the gentle, graceful nature of a sledgehammer. She insists that she'll retrieve his lost mask because she knows it's important to him. When she discovers that Sifeng is punished over it, Xuanji is the one to point out how unfair it is. Her straightforwardness and sense of principle are the reason Sifeng begins to open up at all.

Xuanji: I’m the one who took off his mask. If you want to hit someone, hit me. [...] Not to mention, he almost died trying to get his mask back. So I'd like to ask you, Palace Leader, is Sifeng's life more important, or is that mask more important?

She knows no fear, so she doesn't consider emotionless rules to be worth anything if they cause pain for the people she cares about. In many ways, Xuanji is the one who teaches Sifeng to stand up for what he believes in.

That Xuanji lacks her six senses makes her the least susceptible to the prejudicial habits of her surroundings. She accepts what they believe, that demons are bad, but only because that's all she knows. Whereas most of her peers are content remaining in their ignorance, this supposedly heartless gal is curious about the world. She can easily abandon her preconceptions in favor of what she witnesses the world to be.

It takes constant practice and tests for Xuanji to completely shed her old beliefs. The introduction of Zi Hu marks the beginning of her growth. Xuanji, concerned and angry that Zi Hu is holding her friends captive, fully intends on killing the fox until Ting Nu reasons with her:

Ting Nu: Zi Hu isn’t a malicious demon. You shouldn’t threaten her life. Xuanji: But she kidnapped my friends. How can I spare her? [...] No. She did bad things, so I have to kill her. Ting Nu: [...] Zi Hu has never actually harmed anybody. She’s simply misguided by her anxieties. You should spare her life. […] If you discover that she’s actually committing malicious acts, you could kill her then, no?

If it were Minyan or Linglong in her position, you could bet that they'd ignore Ting Nu. For one, he's a merman, so of course he'd protect another demon. To Xuanji's credit, she really does give Zi Hu—and Ting Nu—the benefit of the doubt. Does she have to? No. But she does anyway.

If Sifeng’s love comes naturally, then Xuanji’s comes through determination. Who's to say that one is inherently better than the other? It takes ten lifetimes for her to understand a semblance of love. She wants dearly to understand what it means to "like" someone, even though she's already the least unafraid to show how much she cares about others.

After she successfully grows the heart light for Sifeng, I don't think anyone is more excited than Xuanji herself. Look how proud she is. Obviously, she's happy she can use it to protect him, but I imagine that she also views it as the clearest proof that she’s as human as anybody else and as capable of loving as anyone else. Sifeng may be stunned when the heart light disappears, but Xuanji falls despondent—she really wants Sifeng to be someone important to her.

People sometimes struggle to see past Xuanji’s initial naivety. They're especially harsh toward her for not seeing what Sifeng has sacrificed for her until it’s almost too late. It's true, the drama primarily favors Sifeng's perspective, so it's easy to only see what he’s done and ignore Xuanji’s efforts.

In spite of warnings from Sifeng himself to not do so, Xuanji emerges to save him from the third lash of the demon whip. You go, girl.

Love isn’t a competition. But for the sake of the discussion, let's say proof is needed that Xuanji’s effort in the relationship matches Sifeng’s. In that case, the important part is looking at what they sacrifice in a relative scope instead of an absolute one.

The things that Sifeng sacrifices are astronomical. He climbs a tower blustering with an eternal blizzard and puts on the Lovers' Curse mask. He stands right in the middle of the conflict between humans and demons even though there’s no way humans will spare him. He gets stabbed…a lot. But everything he does is a result of his own will and careful calculations—they’re all things he knows he can take responsibility for.

Sifeng's major flaw is that he's a massive liar. He's not right to lie, but he's also right to be scared about what would happen if he doesn't. As a demon, he knows what happens to anyone who isn't distinctly human. That's why he conceals his identity from Xuanji.

Then, once he discovers that Xuanji is also the reincarnation of the Star of Mosha, his fear is ignited again for her sake. Xuanji has almost always been defined by what she is, not who. She's berated for being useless when she doesn’t have her six senses. The moment she’s revealed to have the God of War's power, suddenly everyone finds her more than useful. If she's publicly revealed to be the Star of Mosha, then she'd be killed without question, and the person that is “Xuanji” will also cease to exist. Just as he doesn’t want Xuanji to view him and as anything other than himself, Sifeng doesn't want anyone else to view Xuanji as anyone other than herself. That's also why out of everyone, the one person he must keep the Star of Mosha secret from is Xuanji herself.

When Sifeng's lies begin to unfold, Xuanji is left to handle the mess he's inadvertently created. Suddenly discovering that he's a demon and also protective of the demon that possibly murdered her mother, Xuanji is torn. Her wavering faith in him isn't because of his identity, but because he lied to her.

Zi Hu: Do you dislike it that much, that [Sifeng] is a demon? Xuanji: Should I not? Zi Hu: Well, you healed my wounds. And you’re friends with me and Ting Nu, a merman. As for little Sifeng, he’s not a malicious demon who harms people. I don’t think he was aware of what went on with Tianxu Hall and Lize Palace. Xuanji: That’s different! He shouldn’t have lied to me. He’s the person I trust the most. But he even kept from me who he is. Then, all the things he told me and did with me in the past…what part of it all was real and what was fake? Zi Hu: What’s real and what’s fake? Can’t you just drag him over here and ask him? If he’s a scumbag, just kill him. But if there’s any misunderstandings, the two of you should clear them up. Resolve them and see what solutions there are. When two people are together, the scariest thing is misunderstanding one another for no reason. If you lose each other, that might be the end, forever. You’d regret that. 

And then she eventually does try to kill him. Good going, Zi Hu.

Xuanji's main conflict in the latter half of the drama is that she wants to find a solution that satisfies everyone, an impossible dilemma. Everyone starts pressuring her to lead the charge against the demons. It's her duty as the God of War, isn't it? Oh, but if she doesn't want to, it's because she's in love with the enemy. But she can't be in love with the enemy. She's the God of War, after all.

That’s the duplicitous world that Xuanji lives in. Yet, without knowing why he's been dishonest or what else he could be lying about, she still chooses to believe in Sifeng—even if it means being treated as a traitor herself and being further guilt-tripped. She's bound to her duty, family, and the expectations that come along with that. Going against them in any capacity is a challenge to her entire livelihood and the moral standards imposed on her. If you take that into account, suddenly the things that she risks don’t pale in comparison what Sifeng does for her.

As an omniscient audience, it's easy for us to say that she doesn't do enough, that she should know better. It's an interesting thought experiment to wonder what else she could do in such a situation. Her boyfriend lies to her. She believes he has a reason, believes in him when he tells her to trust him. She defends him repeatedly to people who don't even care to listen unless it's to interrupt and call her crazy. She lies to her father that she'll devote herself to killing demons like Sifeng so they'll stop calling her crazy and threatening her. Then, when she goes to rescue Sifeng from Mingxia Cave, he's suddenly getting passive-aggressive with her: “oh, what does the mighty God of War need from a lowly demon like me that she deigns to talk to me?” Bro…if I were her, I might just ditch him in a fit of rage. That's how you want to play? Have fun turning into frozen poultry in this cave, then.

Obviously, more is going on behind the scenes that Xuanji is completely unaware of. Sifeng almost dies from her fire magic that Hao Chen stole. The broken hairpin. And okay, I'll admit that her saying that she'll kill him while he's eavesdropping outside is not a great look. But come on, Sifeng. Where have your critical thinking skills gone? If you can lie, don’t you think Xuanji can too? And after all that, she still instinctively shields him from her father’s sword.

Sifeng. In this case, I do have to criticize you in a serious manner. Do you have any idea how hard it was for Xuanji to finally try to get herself stabbed for you, only for you to go “no, me” and get stabbed again? Do you have a sword-magnet in your chest?

Then Sifeng tells her that he’s never loved her and was only using her because he’s Luohou Jidu, the world's biggest villain. And she still can't bear to hurt him. When Xuanji discovers that Hao Chen has tricked her into using a so-called “Purifying Vase” to doom Sifeng to a painful death, she's furious:

Xuanji: For my own good? You want me to practice the Method of Love, but you also want me to be heartless. I can’t be so contradictory. Hao Chen: I told you to practice the Method of Love through feelings between you and me, not for you to continuously absorb yourself in your fixation on Sifeng! Xuanji, don’t forget. Our marriage is one determined by the heavens. It’s destiny. Xuanji: The heavens determine nothing. If they do, then why did they make Sifeng and I meet in our past nine lives? What a joke of the heavens. Hao Chen: So, you’d rather resign yourself to your doomed fate with that demon than stay properly by my side? Xuanji: Fate isn’t split into a virtuous or doomed one. I hate myself for loving Sifeng before, and we won’t ever be together again. But since I already gave him my love, I won’t take it back.

But of course, Hao Chen has more tricks up his Mary Poppins sleeves. He pulls out all the stops and uses his last breath to manipulate her into stabbing Sifeng. Oh my god. Look at all these trust issues, just making themselves readily available.

Her stabbing him is, how do you say, very bad. But let’s be honest, she’s seen him survive worse. I don't have a nifty conclusion is here, but basically, she subconsciously knows he'll get over it (physically, at least).

Of course, Sifeng is heartbroken. It's intensified by the tragic fate of his father. His father’s goal was always to protect Sifeng from the dangers posed by the racist five sects, led primarily by fabricated memories that his lover Hao Feng was driven to suicide by her own family. When Yuan Lang reveals the truth, that Hao Feng's fear of demons trumped her love for her husband, it’s intense foreshadowing of Sifeng and Xuanji’s relationship. Maybe Xuanji isn't like Hao Feng and she can cross the rift between humans and demons, meeting Sifeng in the middle. But finally, she still retreats, away from him. Her betrayal, now the tenth in all their lifetimes, leads Sifeng to leave behind some of the most truthful but hurtful words for Xuanji to deal with:

I finally understand why my fate turned out as it did in all my past nine lives. From beginning to end, you have always been a heartless person.

It’s not fair to ask Sifeng to keep considering Xuanji’s feelings under the brunt of her violent wrath. But just as she has no idea what he’s been doing to protect her, he has no idea what she’s been doing to protect him. Zi Hu is right again: nothing poses a greater danger to a couple than misunderstandings. And racism.

The ultimate resolution only occurs once Xuanji recovers the memories of their past lives. Congratulations, Sifeng. After a millennium of pining, your love has finally touched the heart of your beloved. Indeed, it might take a long time getting there, but love will find a way.

I love the short scenes that show the God of War and Xi Xuan's quiet but gentle relationship. Xi Xuan is the only one who cares that the God of War wants her own identity, then gives her a moment in which she doesn't have to wear her armor, just as Sifeng does everything in his power to let Xuanji be "Xuanji." Through all their lives, Sifeng is the one who recognizes her for who she is and wants to make her happy, even if she doesn't have a heart.

Activate: Xuanji, shameless mode. After Xuanji tracks down Sifeng in his solitude, they return to their days as teenagers. Xuanji acts like a fool in front of him, demanding his attention, and Sifeng only wants to get her the hell out of his house. It's not only a reminder of the times when things were a lot simpler, but also of how far they've come.

She intends on marrying Sifeng. Even if her father doesn't approve, she no longer cares. There's not enough time left in the world to hesitate about the people you love to satiate someone who can't be satisfied. Just as Sifeng upends his whole life for her, she's willing to do the same.

And as Sifeng is dying, Xuanji makes the ultimate decision to become the Star of Mosha. This isn't a reckless move done just to save him. Rather, her faith in Sifeng has strengthened into steel after all they've been through. Even if the world ends, she knows that a little bird with unshakable resolve will come get her. For two people who have spent most of their time as a pair of parallel lines, never to coincide, this is their point of intersection—a challenge that they'll face together, even if they're apart.

Sifeng: Xuanji, stop! I'd rather die than watch you become a devil for me! Xuanji: Sifeng, I can't consider all that now. I have to save you! Whether I be the Star of Mosha or the God of War, I don't care. I just need you to be okay. Sifeng. If I become Luohou Jidu, you absolutely can't forget me. Remember to bring me back! I cry during this scene. Then I immediately start laughing at Sifeng's gobsmacked expression once Luohou Jidu shows up. It just reads "but...my girlfriend..."

And Xuanji's right. Sifeng is the solution. No one else can save Luohou Jidu, the God of War, and the world by extension. Luohou Jidu's pain results from being betrayed purely because of his identity as a devil, but Sifeng becomes the confidante that Bai Lin pretended to be. The God of War's pain comes from having no self-identity, but Xi Xuan gives her the ability to seek one and accompanies her for a thousand years to help her find it. The suffering that Bai Lin set into motion would lead to a ceaseless cycle of revenge and a destruction of the world’s good due to its sins, but Sifeng alone convinces Luohou Jidu and the God of War that there's something in life worth keeping. But you have to fight for it, and persistently, because good things only come to those who are willing to chase after them.

Xuanji to Bai Lin: I won’t mess with someone else’s life so simply due to my own matters, even if that person is someone as despicable as you. Sifeng once said that using hate to obtain vengeance is an endless cycle. In this life, I already have something that matters more to me than that. I have no space to keep my hatred.

I know it can sound cheesy to say that the best revenge is living a happy life. But Love and Redemption can convert even the most insistent of cynics—me, for example. People will practice evil whether or not there’s a reason for it and whether or not those consequences will ripple out into a tsunami that will engulf the world. Only true, honest love can hope to settle the uneasy sea. It’s why Zi Hu gives Wu Zhiqi something to live for other than war. It’s why Linglong and Minyan have a reason to persist alongside one another. It's why Luohou Jidu gives his heart and life to Sifeng. It’s why Sifeng is able to save Xuanji. It's why the three realms are blessed with the chance to keep finding a reason to persist.

Sifeng and Xuanji’s story is a journey of overcoming all odds; of learning to love someone unconditionally not because it’s easy, but because you want to; of letting that love grow into a ray of hope in the world. Yes, if we let it, love wins all.

Sifeng: Your heart has become one of flesh and blood. It couldn’t bear to destroy the three realms. Because…it’s a heart that I held and warmed in my hands, bit by bit.

[bunnymadeofyarn]

and what if i said i'm writing an incredibly self-indulgent mike-centric byler secret relationship fic?

[flawlessflesh]

in my body i felt no pain.

post-canon yaad & thistle fic ▒▒ chapter 2 of ? , ~4k words.

After the dungeon rises from the earth, Yaad has a long-awaited conversation with Thistle.

Ch 2: Thistle seems to be growing both closer and farther away from him. Yaad keeps trying to reach out.

[queerstudiesnatural]

I found my way living in you

Words: 3,088

He lifts Dean's head up with tender fingers until they are looking in each other's eyes, and his thumb wipes the tears on his cheek. “Hi,” Dean says. “Hello," Cas smiles. "Cas?" Dean asks, and a sob is threatening to break out of his throat again, this time brought on by the overwhelming rush of his senses and reality coming back to him, not brighter and louder, but more tangible. "Don't ever leave." Cas' face changes surreptitiously, eyebrows lifting ever slightly. “Dean—" "Don't. Don't argue with me, Cas. Just stay. Please. Please." The expression on Cas' face is one of awe, and somewhere in Dean's mind he thinks the painting must have shifted to show a halo around him, too. "Alright," Cas says. "If this is what you really want." "Cas," Dean whispers, and he can't imagine why it was so difficult to say it before. It's the most natural thing in the world. "I want you." He brings Castiel's hand to his lips. "Wherever we are, whatever we're doing, I want you. I need you."

read the whole fic on ao3

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Bucky finds DomSub porn on Steve's search history and asks him about it.

At first Bucky thinks Steve is the one who wants to Dom. A very confusing discussion follows.

Bucky hasn't bottomed since before Steve and him have been together, atleast 80 odd years. But he'd be willing to try if that's what Steve's found he's into-

And a very bright red and sputtering Steve has to admit that, no.. he wants to be dominated. He wants to take it up the ass with restraints and praise.

Immediately Bucky is much more attached to the idea. Despite the fact that their roles in the bedroom have always been somewhat akin to these things Steve's been reading and watching, he never even considered.. oh god this is something he really wants too. Suddenly he's kind of drooling at the idea of this step up in dynamics.

Just picturing Steve tied up, whimpering and whining, bright red all over and blissfully out of his mind. Jesus.

They have a long road ahead of them lmao

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Yeah, yeah, yeah-!

There's a trope in your ask that I feel like appears pretty often in stucky fanfics, the whole we've-been-doing-this-since-before-there-was-a-name-for-it. Which, I'm unsure if it would be true because, well, I'm sure they would have called power dynamics something and the words have simply changed over time, but I haven't done enough research to know what. Or, it could've been completely true because they might have been cut off from any community that could have told them a name for that, so it would've been just something between the two of them, a way they played that they were unsure if anyone else did at all, and they didn't stop to put a name to it. Either way, it's definitely interesting.

Like, Bucky has been roughing Steve up since they were boys. He was the only one who respected Steve and didn't treat him like glass. Bullies were one thing, spitting on him and beating him, well-meaning adults were another thing, tiptoeing around him and worrying over his always ailing body, and Bucky something completely unique.

gif by the-girl-without-a-face

Bucky would wrestle him on the floor admist the shrieks and chanting and boney ankles of his younger sisters in the Barnes' home, Bucky wouldn't go easy on him in gym class but wasn't picking him out and wailing on him either, treating him as fair, worthy competition, and Bucky, as they got older, would kiss him like he wasn't afraid. He would pull Steve in for vicious kisses the moment they were alone that felt almost bruising against Steve's buzzing lips, their mouths meeting so fiercely. He would drag his teeth over Steve's bottom lip, unconcerned with the outside world and anything they may have to say about why Steve's lips are suddenly so swollen and wet after being locked in a bedroom with only one other person. Another young man.

Bucky didn't care about the suspicion of others over Steve's split lip, Steve's bruised flesh, or Steve's panting, soft moans that might overflow from their apartment. Partly because he just didn't fucking care, he cared about Steve too much to care about much anything else, and partly because he knew Steve could hold his own. Steve was not only strong enough to take it but stubborn enough to enjoy it.

And farther, Steve was strong enough to resist anything anyone said about him. That split lip? Nah, it wasn't from being pinned underneath Bucky, kissing until the fragile flesh of his mouth split and ran red. It was just from another fight, and you should see the other guy. He got it worse. Those bruises, just about the size of the tip of someone's finger? Huh. Must be from yet another confrontation or from smacking his boney body on corners and tables and doorframes. His balance isn't so good, and his skin is so thin and finicky, y'know? Anything makes him bruise. Anything that isn't, certainly, Bucky's strong, work-calloused hands digging into him as he fucks him without mercy, no, that'd be preposterous. Speaking of fucking, those little sounds, sweet and breathy, choked out from the Barnes-Rogers, Rogers-Barnes bare-bones bachelor pad? Those aren't anything to worry about. They come at night because that's when Steve's getting ready for bed and arranging his sheets and his dust allergy kicks up as well as when his asthma bothers him most, his lungs tired after a whole days worth of breathing. Those are the choked sounds of trying to get enough air. They absolutely are not the muffled sounds of pleasure from taking whatever Bucky dishes out and expects him to take, making his eyes go hazy and unfocused, rolling back into his head while his mouth drops open, leaving Bucky with no choice but to slap a hand over his stupid, pretty face to keep him quiet.

Yeah.

Bucky doesn't go easy on Steve. Why would he? Steve responds so fucking well to that roughness.

Oddly, nothing makes him more compliant than just a little roughing up. He'll fight back, sure, but he doesn't actually want to win their wrestling match or want Bucky to stop. He just wants to add to the anticipation. He wants to make Bucky earn it. He wants to egg Bucky on, get him to let go that last little bit, and really wail on him. That's what gets Steve limp and moaning all breathy, his eyelashes fluttering softly, his heart slowly circulating his blood, pushing it down, down, down between his legs.

And as much as they don't talk about it, not really, during that time before the war--or even during the war later, when Bucky and Steve let the violence of the war front bleed into their own games but in a much more tender, caring way that spoke of their bonds, not of their differences like the troop mentalities of us vs them--they don't talk about it worse when Bucky first comes back.

Steve doesn't talk because he doesn't know what Bucky remembers, and he doesn't want to push him away if he doesn't remember and it's too much for him. He won't pressure him. If Bucky doesn't want to be together, at all, anymore, then they won't be. If Bucky doesn't want to be with him, like that, anymore, then they won't be. Steve would never dream of pushing Bucky into that dynamic again if he doesn't want it.

Bucky doesn't talk because, yes, at first, those days have yet to resurface through the murky, silt-heavy waters of his subconscious, not settled out to a clear lake. But, eventually, memory in mind, back where it should be, Bucky doesn't talk because he doesn't know how to broach the topic. Steve always did that. Steve goaded him and encouraged it, directly or, most often, indirectly--not using his words but letting his shivers of pleasure, heavily-lidded eyes, and low, soft sounds of lust talk for him. Bucky isn't sure how to ask if they're real memories, just fantasies, or how to ask if Steve still wants it that way.

Steve really fucking wants it.

But, again, Steve's stubborn. Once they are together again, officially, and once they are being intimate again, it's enough. Wholeheartedly. Steve will take that and nothing more and not truly complain about a thing. Having an itch in the back of his mind is nothing compared to the gaping, festering wound he once harbored, thinking his lover was dead. He can deal with it. More than "deal," he will thrive with it. But...

As stubborn as Steve is, he's curious, too. He can't leave anything alone. He can't turn a blind eye. He can't pretend. So, when he can finally stomach thinking of intimacy again because Bucky is back and they're having it, cuddling and sex and everything between, Steve starts to get curious. He's thinking more and more about how they used to act.

Did anyone else do that before?

Does anyone else do that now?

Yes.

The answer to both is yes.

They did.

They do.

Steve goes looking, and he finds.

He finds a wealth of names for those kinds of practices--all kinds of people from all different backgrounds, genders, and sexualities mixing wanted, pleasurable meanness and violence and bite with loving affection. Kink. BDSM. (Which, BDSM, is a name that carries names it of itself, fascinatingly enough. Bondage and discipline. Domination and submission. Sadism and masochism.) Power dynamics. Power play. Roleplay. Total power exchange. Dom/sub. Authority kinks. Master/slave. Pain play. Daddy/boy. Competency kinks. Etc. Etc.

All those different words for it live in Steve's search history, and it lives in real people who really do this stuff and really enjoy themselves. They describe liking it, loving it, needing it. Just like Steve liked it, loved it, and needed it when Bucky gave him those things, although, ultimately, in a less organized way than in the way presented to him online, discussing limits, both hard and soft, having negotiations before most every "scene", and employing safewords. Those all sound smart. They were definitely uninformed back then but also just young and reckless.

Overall, though, it's enough to know it exists. Steve isn't really planning on doing anything about it. Not yet, at least. He wants to savor what he's just won back for a while longer before altering it in any way. But...

Bucky borrows his laptop when his own is charging up from dead, and Steve didn't think to delete his history because it's his laptop? He knows what he was looking at, and he doesn't care if he sees it again, in fact, he might want to. He may want or need to retrace his digital tracks. So--

"Steve?"

All of that old, roughing-up they used to do bubbles up to the surface again.

They'll have a conversation about it. They will. Eventually. But... the way Steve colors that perfect, sweet pink once Bucky turns the laptop around to show him a web page about the history and origins of erotic bondage, well, there's not much that can be done. Bucky is done in. That blush. That fucking blush heats Bucky up like a summer sunset, setting off humid, thick arousal but also awe.

His baby is pretty.

And he remembers, vividly--sprawled like a Renaissance painting across the back of his eyelids in his mind's eye--how pretty he was curled up into all kinds of twisted, pretzel shapes with the help of Bucky's soft neckties, elastic suspenders, or worn, butter-smooth belt. How pretty he was gasping for air while Bucky pumped deep inside him, fucking him and holding his bird-boned wrists above his head in one clenched fist to keep those trouble making fingers outta his way. How pretty he was with his big blue eyes wide and wet with tears, pleading through uneven hiccuping sobs to please, please, please finally be able to cum after a whole afternoon spent laid out on their thin, old mattress, told he couldn't move an inch, or they'd be done--struggling to obey instinctively, his body aching for pleasure, but wanting to obey regardless. How pretty he was being good. How pretty he was submitting.

Bucky's mouth is dry as a desert, just thinking about those dust-covered memories. He licks his lips, rifling through his own body to decide how he feels. Steve tracks the movement with a distinct, familiar kind of embarrassment in his blue eyes. Bucky feels very, very aroused.

"Yeah?" Steve finally replies, his voice hoarse. Rough and feral.

In response, Bucky's voice comes out dripping with his usually faded accent, "go get me a belt."

Steve's jaw drops. Although, before Bucky can reel himself back in, his words, no, his demand swallowed back down into his chest where it's more appropriate, more private, Steve is scurrying off as obedient as a lap dog.

A grin twists itself onto Bucky's lips.

Steve returns, panting, he zipped to the bedroom and back with everything he has. Eager little punk. But, he is holding a belt.

It's one of Bucky's, no surprise there. Old habits die hard, Bucky supposes.

They have plenty of belts to choose from these days, belts for different occasions from hanging around the house to fancy charity events, belts of different styles to fit every occasion and every kind of pant, belts on belts on belts, belts for the both of them. But, the belt Steve selected is Bucky's oldest. And it's the most familiar. The very thing he owned in the 30s before everything was war rationed. Thick, smooth, flexible leather that's been beat to shit, so much wear and love to it. The hole punched through it that Bucky uses a little looser than all the rest.

Bucky takes it from him, and Steve whimpers.

An answering chuckle finds its way out of Bucky, pulled up from the same depths as his arousal. Deep, thudding--throbbing. He hasn't even done anything yet, and here is his little dolly, all pink, slack-jawed, and making cute sounds for him.

"Wrists, behind your back, darlin'," Bucky murmurs.

Steve spins in a tight circle and crosses both hands over the small, small of his big, broad back, holding them together.

Bucky lovingly loops the leather of his belt around Steve's wrists once, twice, enjoying the goosebumps that lift over Steve's skin immensely. It pleases the animal inside him, wanting this more than he knows how to deal with.

Easy as breathing, once he's got Steve's wrists bound, he puts his boy on his knees between his knees. Steve's laptop pushed to the other end of the couch and forgotten, completely forgotten.

Nothing exists but Steve.

So fucking pretty.

Blonde hair that begs to be stroked and pulled. A blush spilled like expensive, sugary wine across his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, slowly running down to his square jaw and swallowing throat. Blue eyes getting darker with every tension-filled moment that passes between them, shaded by unreal lashes that Bucky knows get even more obscene when painted with cum. Dripping and heavy. Soaked. Lips plush and unreal. All of him. His crooked nose. Every bit of him.

Bucky strokes his smooth, smooth jaw and zeros in on the way his lips quiver, so close to begging already.

Maybe he can take it easy on him this one time, hm? It has been a long, long time...

"You want it?" Bucky husks out, tracing the tips of his fore- and middle fingers from the hinge of his killer jaw to the plush pillow of his fat bottom lip.

Steve nods urgently, but his lips dropping open is more than enough of an answer.

An answer and a request that Bucky fulfills eagerly, shoving two fingers into Steve's mouth and pressing down on his tongue, letting him have a taste of the weight, and feeling his hot mouth flood with saliva. Wet.

Desperate hunger.

Bucky pushes deeper, relishing in the way the smaller, more uniform taste buds at the center of his tongue give way to larger, vaguely rougher ones at the very back and how that turns into nothing but the slick, velvet-soft inside of his throat. His throat contracts and hugs his fingers even as he sputters around a gagged moan.

Good fucking god.

"Yeah," Bucky talks down to his blushing, restrained yet squirming boy, choking on his fingers, eyes full of glassy, pretty tears, "you want it."

Steve moans that much harder, straining his neck to get more, trying to have his fingers deeper, deeper until his teeth dig hard into Bucky's knuckles.

"Don't worry, baby," Bucky hears himself coo, a low, syrupy tune that goes well with the jingle of his belt, undoing it one handed to get his dick out. If Steve wants to be tied down and have his mouth filled up, then that's what he'll get. Bucky can spend as much time as Steve wants--as much as he needs pounding down into his tight throat, making him take it, wearing him down to rivers of tears of pleasure, and leaving him limp everywhere except where it counts, so drunk on being used that he doesn't have a lick of fight left in him. He's so easy and hard for being a nice, wet hole. Always was. Always will be.

[honeyhobies]

happy punkflower wipwed i'm making them sweet