#by then you’re not writing for yourself no more

[ja3yun]

Please Be Real | P.JS

ex!jongseong x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut(mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, begging, hurt w comfort, petnames (baby, princess), mentions of intoxication, alcohol, heavy conversation around wanting children, badly written, reupload, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: you never thought you would hear the name park jongseong again until you get a call from one of his friends begging for your help a/n: hi! this is a reupload!! so if you think you've read it, that's because you have <3 i didn't edit this one and i think you will be able to tell since my writing is a little sloppy compared to now but i love this fic a lot. i was actually planning a new one today (sub jake) but i fear that one isn't finished yet! so please enjoy. as always, comments, feedback and reblogs are all welcome! love u <33

A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.

Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.

Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.

“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.

“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.

You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”

“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really. 

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver. 

This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern. 

Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”

Jay. Park Jongseong.

It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.

Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your six-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.

It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.

But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.

And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.

Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.

Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.

The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.

His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.

“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.

As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.

Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.

Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.

“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle. 

You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.

As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart.��

He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.

As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.

With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.

An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward carefully, “Jjongie?” you say calmly, trying to pull him out of his dispaired state and avoid startling him. “It’s me, baby, look at me,” 

Jongseong's body tenses at your voice and he slowly lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.

He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.

Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the stinging discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own hurt, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.

"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using the pad of your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.

Jongseong leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin. He desperately nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation of your touch, the very thing he has been yearning for.

It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.

Turning to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?” Jake asks with a raised brow, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you, pathetic and distressed.

Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves difficult as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.

"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.

With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.

"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.

Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.

You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount if he’s this bad..

“Like…two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces as he says it, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend. It was hard to watch him, pound spirit after spirit, and be helpless in telling him to stop. He’s not exaggerating either, he must have spent at least £600 in there. Each round was a triple, accompanied by a few shots to wash the Jack and Coke down.

"Oh, baby," you sigh softly, returning your attention to Jongseong. You press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. In some way, the scent of his shampoo also gives you some ease within the chaos. His response to your affection is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace. There’s a crushing wave of empathy that you feel wash over you right at this moment. It hurts, seeing him like this and hearing of his struggles - ex or not - you care about him, and you also understand his pain.

You need to get him home. He’s a fucking mess and the longer he stays like this, the more it’s going to wear all four of you out. So, with a gentle hand, you pull him back and lift his jaw up to look at you. It was probably the worst decision you could have ever made. He looks…broken.

"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, squeezing his chin as almost a gentle pinch, to prove you’re not letting him go. This instantly relaxes Jongseong, though, his hands still grip onto you for dear life. His friends go to help you, break him away and buckle him in the backseat, but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."

Sunghoon shakes his head, heavy concern etched on his face. "No way. He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the apartment without us.”

But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up. "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute and brooking no argument.

Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod, still teetering on the edge of arguing with you. But, they know better and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.

Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose. You’ve been in this state before too, so you can recognise the blackout glaze that he’s trying to fight away as he keeps his eyes on you. He’s so scared you’ll just vanish into thin air. “I’m right here. Go to sleep.”

Surprisingly, he listens to your reassurance, closing his eyes and drifting off, allowing you to slide into the driver's seat. You turn the keys as the engine begins humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.

_____

Arriving at his house fills you with a nervous energy that tightens in your chest. This wasn’t just his flat—it used to be your shared home. For two and a half years, this place held countless, irreplaceable memories, moments you thought you’d cherish forever.

You were the one who left, finding a new place closer to work and convincing yourself it was the practical choice. But deep down, you knew the real reason: you couldn’t bear the constant reminders of him that lingered in every room, every piece of furniture, every shadow of your life together.

Looking back now, it feels selfish. You left him here, surrounded by the remnants of your relationship, without considering how he might feel. While you escaped to a fresh start, he was left to live among the echoes of what you once had.

Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny, but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.

As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. 

The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times when life seemed so simple and easy. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.

You shake the thoughts away and guide Jongseong toward the bedroom. Each step feels heavy, as you’re encompassed with memories that surround you. He’s been living in a time capsule, and while you’re struggling to look at it all now, you wonder how he has managed to endure it for all these months.

His arm is slung over your shoulder as his weight presses down on you, however, it’s the feeling of his nose brushing against your hair that nearly stops you in your tracks. He breathes in deeply, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s trying to ground himself in the familiarity of you.

You help Jongseong onto the bed, propping him up carefully. “I’m going to grab you some clean boxers, okay?” you say softly. He doesn’t respond, lost in his own haze, so you move toward the drawers on the other side of the room.

Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.

“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.

You’re no better, though. You think of the hoodie you tucked into your suitcase before you left, the one you’ve worn so many times on nights when the loneliness felt unbearable. Its scent is fading too, just like this shirt, but you still cling to it, just as he clings to this. Both of you, in your own quiet ways, are holding onto the fragments of a love neither of you has been able to let go of.

Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.

You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hello Kitty print that you've always teased him about.

Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.

As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.

He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.

“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he 

mumbles as his lips ghost over yours. 

He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.

But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.

“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”

Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave. 

"Please, baby," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own. 

His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.

With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.

Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.

You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while. 

Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you from behind, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.

You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.

_____

Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.

Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes. 

Even if he wanted to open his eyes, he couldn’t - they were sealed shut, held together by something stubborn. Had he been crying last night? Wait, what did happen last night?

Fragments of the evening begin to resurface as he sifts through the haze: Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the chaotic vibe of the bar, and the questionable decision to ride the mechanical bull. After that? A blank.

As he struggles to piece it all together, you watch him futilely attempt to pry his eyes open. Deciding to help, you gently swipe your thumb across his lids, clearing away the dried remnants of tears and sleep. His body tenses at your touch, his expression clouded with confusion.

Was he hallucinating? The sensation felt so real - too real. Or maybe the girl he brought home last night had a touch uncannily like yours. God, he hoped it was the first one.

Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.

“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.

You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong. 

All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.

He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.

Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.

As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.

"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."

You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.

The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously. 

All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”

“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.

"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."

You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements - this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.

But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.

You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.

“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.

Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”

It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly. 

“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”

Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.

“That’s okay-”

“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry and interrupt him, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?

"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"

Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is truly laying himself bare to you.

But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."

You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.

"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?

Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.

So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.

"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.

In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you. 

"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.

Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.

You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.

His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.

You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.

It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.

Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds. 

The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.

He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.

Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.

"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.

Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.

"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.

With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.

You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.

You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.

As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.

“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.

Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.

But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.

“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.

Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”

“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.

Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.

With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.

"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire. 

Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."

Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.

The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need. 

Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”

You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.

You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."

With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."

As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.

Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."

In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.

With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.

“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.

After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.

Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.

As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.

In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!” 

His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.

After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked. 

But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.

He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.

“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.

You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”

“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.

The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you. 

Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.

You need one another to extinguish the fire.

“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.

“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.” 

Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.

His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t. 

He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.

“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”

He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream. 

You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.

Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.

“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.

Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.

“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.

So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.

Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”

You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.

“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.

So, with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you say, even if you are a day late.

[tojipie]

I love your writing soon much!!! I'd love to see one where megumi calls you while you're receiving tojis back shots and you have to keep your composure😭🙏

there’s a special warm little place in my heart just for dilf toji who simply can’t stop fucking his son’s college friends

content: drabble, smut, more porn than plot, fem reader

˚ ✧ ───────────

“Aww c’mon,” Toji teases, holding the receiver to your ear with a laugh. “He’s not gonna stop calling.”

To say you were frustrated would be a flat out lie. You were pissed. The call couldn’t have come at a worser time, effectively putting a pin in what was supposed to be a much needed fuck.

You rock back onto Toji’s dick in earnest, trying to distract him from the task at hand.

“Keep fucking me,” you whine, batting at the arm currently holding your buzzing phone to the side of your face.

“Hmm? Should I?” He asks fondly, laughing at the scowl on your face.

“Just fucking hang up—” your blood runs cold as you hear your best friend’s voice on the other line.

“Hey! Are you busy?” megumi asks, patiently waiting for your reply. The smug little grin on his father’s face pisses you off more than it should.

“No.. why?” You grit, swatting behind you in frustration. Toji catches your hand as it collides with what you think is his stomach, twisting your arm behind your back and rendering you powerless. You’re ashamed to admit you clamp down on him at the show of dominance, rendering yourself speechless as he begins to rut into you again.

“Nobara and I were going to hit the library if you’re down, we miss you so much.” Toji scoffs behind you, laying the phone flat with the receiver next to your mouth.

“I miss you guys too,” you muster, wincing as his father’s hand squeezes the back of your neck, a silent warning.

“Oh, do you now?” Toji grumbles in your ear, squeezing the fat of your ass and dealing a stinging slap to the tender flesh. The squeal that escapes you only spurs him on, the pliant skin of your neck now under his searing hit tongue as he sucks a violet mark under your jugular.

You loved when he got like this, flamingly possessive at even the slightest show of affection from hisb son. Toji could handle you two being friends, but he’d be damned before he lets you sweet talk another man on his cock.

“I don’t think I can make it today though, family plans,” you say cautiously, gasping as Toji’s slow rut morphs into a merciless assault on your soaking wet walls.

“The hell was that?” Megumi laughs, clearly not catching onto what was currently happening.

You quickly shove your face into the pillow to muffle the moans that follow suit, whimpering as your head is wrenched back by your hair and held in front of the phone by a thick hand.

“Answer him, pretty,” His father whispers, easing up on you and slowing his thrusts.

You’re too far gone to respond now, feeling your orgasm creeping closer by the second.

“Listen, c-can we come back to this later? I—” you’re already clamping down hard on Toji’s dick before you can get the rest of your sentence out, soaking the both of you as your body explodes in every sense of the word.

You don’t even have it in you to panic when you feel him snatch the phone off the pillow and put it on speaker, still pummeling into your sopping wet entrance as he speaks.

“Hey, I think she’ll have to call you back kiddo.” he says, hanging up as the other line erupts in chaos.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Succubus Ellie x fem! reader

Content / warnings: 18+ content, succubus Ellie, virgin (kind of a loser) reader, Ellie is super shady and you're horny & oblivious, corruption kink, oral sex (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), spit play, strength kink, Ellie gets increasingly more aggressive/stronger, biting (and some blood), nipple stimulation, mentions of stretch marks on reader's thighs bc I personally love them

Word count: 2.3k

You're a lesbian in a small religious town, and all you've got going for you is reading and your own apartment. It's not your fault that you get desperate enough to check out a book on demonology, summon a literal succubus, and sign a contract stating that you belong to said succubus.

Libraries have about every book you can think of.

Some may not have the most interesting options, but upon searching enough, you can truly find anything. You love reading. You love scanning over the ink-littered pages for hours until your brain is fried from trying to make sense of a complex plot. You get off on reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein because pretty words just do it for you. There is something about losing yourself in Edgar Allen Poe’s poetry that makes your blood hot. You know it’s fucked up, and yet you have no shame searching throughout your small town’s local library for something new.

Perhaps it’s just growing up in an isolated town that makes you find entertainment in the concept of everything all at once–literature truly has it all. There is no limit to what an author can write onto an unlimited amount of pages. You’d rather stay underneath your blanket with a flashlight at four in the morning than actually socialize (unless it’s on reddit, like a freak). Sometimes, you do get lonely though. Books don’t satiate your physical needs, and no amount of masturbation with a vibrator from an adult store a few towns over will truly make you cum like a woman could. You know that, but do nothing about it. You downloaded a dating app only to delete it when you had to set your profile picture. 

That is exactly why you find yourself in the occult section of your lovely local library scanning through books to find one about demons. Unsurprisingly for a library in the middle of a religious town, there are little to no books on the subject. Just one. Demons and Demonology.

You’re lonely, remember? Summoning a succubus is a low blow even for you, though. You don’t meet the librarian’s judgemental gaze, and you rush home to your humble apartment to hopefully read all about demonology, specifically the sexual kind. Little do you know what is in store for you.

Succubus are romanticized in the media; pretty women who seduce humans and sexually drain them. That sounds appealing to many who can imagine someone sleeping with them so willingly, something that you fall victim to simply because you’re lonely. That is exactly what demons prey on, though. People who are lonely and vulnerable. But did you ever really think that a malicious soul could give you one night of pleasure and stop there? 

You light the candles in just a cute, lacy tank top and a pair of white cotton panties. Your feet are cold, so you do have these little patterned, fuzzy socks on. You look desperate, but why would you need pants? A succubus wants to fuck you. You definitely don’t want to be wearing any pants for that. 

And before your very eyes is a woman you will grow to wish you never summoned. 

Dark, auburn hair with sneaky strays that you wish to tuck behind her ears as she fucks you. You’d like to tug on that hair or grasp at it with her lips tending to your clit. Your thoughts are flooded and you can’t even categorize each filthy need upon each beautiful feature your eyes are granted. Your lust is beyond repair.

Your brain should realize that all of the feelings you cling to involving this girl are persuaded by simple vulnerability and need. Her appearance isn’t humanlike. She is a demon, and she has resources to lure you in. You should be realizing how unsafe you are with this girl, not hoping that she will fill you until sunrise. You don’t realize, though. Instead, you find yourself looking up at her as she stands in front of where you sit on your bed. 

“You summoned me, huh?” Her eyes are unbelievably green, vivid in different shades that make you want to squint. 

“Well, yes.”

Such a simple answer, but she appreciates that you are getting straight to the point. Some girls waste her time with nerves and stuttering, but you know exactly what you want. She almost feels sorry for you.

The succubus seems to know where your drawer with your journal is already. She rips out a page and grabs one of your black ink pens, throwing it precisely onto your lap. 

“Sign yourself to me.” 

You look up at her quickly, brows slightly furrowed in confusion. The demon sighs, impatient.

“Don’t you know how this works? You have to write it out. You write out your full name, mine, and that you give yourself to me. Otherwise, I can’t touch you.”

In all honesty, Ellie is a little nervous that you’ll back out. You seem like a smart girl. Maybe you’ll realize that signing yourself up for “giving yourself” to a demon is simply foolish. She finds herself feeling something akin to disappointment when you scribble down your name. 

“My name’s Ellie. Write it down somewhere, it doesn’t matter where. All I need is our names, and something that states that you’re mine.” 

Ellie. You write that down.

Once you dot that final period, Ellie is done with the whole patient act. She grabs your sock-clad ankles with rough hands, pulling you to lay down with your ass just off the bed. You squeal in surprise, but she pays no mind. She hasn’t had a virgin in a long damn time, and she is starving to make you cum for her. 

Her hips part your legs and she leans down to press hungry, sloppy kisses onto your pulse. You feel like you’re about to explode with need, pressure within you building, but with no stimulation. Nobody has ever touched you like this. You’ve never felt a person’s tongue swirl over your collarbone, or you’d realize that this feeling of pure need isn’t in the amount that a human should even be able to feel.

“I need you.” You plead with her, fingers pulling at strands of short hair. This seems to encourage her in ways you didn’t expect, because Ellie is already kneading your tits through fabric, fingertips rolling stiffening nipples with ease.

“Tell me what you want most.” She buries her face into your sternum, hands making haste of pulling the flimsy tank top over your body. 

“I want you to touch me.” 

Ellie grabs your face, hands unfortunately leaving your tits. “Nuh-uh, none of that vague bullshit. Tell me exactly where. How. I need to know.” There is an aggression in her voice that makes your heart drop and your clit throb.

You trail your hand down to the soft fabric of your panties and Ellie doesn’t care that you skimp out on actually telling her. She only peels them down to your ankles and tosses them carelessly. Before you can even beg for her touch, she grabs your hips and throws you into the middle of your bed in a flash. Your head is spinning from the action, the logical part trying to make sense of how she could pick you up and toss you so quickly like you weigh nothing to her.

Before you can register her next actions, her tongue is tracing foreign patterns onto your thighs and her hands are forcing your legs wide. 

“Say you want me to fuck you and ruin you.” Sharp teeth sink into your left inner thigh, branding you. 

“I want you to fuck me, please.” Your voice is breathless, your hips are shifting with impatience and need.

“And you want me to ruin you? Ruin this pussy for anyone but me?”

You let out a whorish whine at her words, a sound you want to be embarrassed about, but your brain can’t grasp the idea of protecting your dignity. 

“So fucking needy, I’m about to have the time of my life taking you apart.” She snorts at the way you try to pull her mouth down onto your sex, but to no avail. She wants you at your most needy so that she can milk every drop of pleasure from your body until you’re a panting, sweaty, and fucked out mess.

It feels like forever since she has been between your thighs, tongue swirling over stretch marks and fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. 

“Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you to fuck me.” You’re a mess beneath her, desperately trying to lift your hips enough to feel her tongue swipe over your clit. Instead, all you get is her warm breath over your aching pussy. You’ve been begging relentlessly, and you can’t tell if it’s working or not. 

Until you feel her spit drip from the hood of your clit, further down to your perineum. You gasp at the sudden warmth, and your legs squirm within the hold her hands have on them. You’ve been soaked for a while now, but it seems that Ellie thinks that your pussy wasn’t wet enough. 

You can’t even get out another round of begging before you feel her wet tongue slide up between your pussy lips and dig into your clit. You jolt and pull her head down, wanting to feel completely connected. You want her mouth onto you without any separation after so much teasing. 

The more pleasure flows through you that Ellie causes, the stronger her hold on you gets. You don’t seem to think much of it within your horny haze, but her nails grow sharper than your soft skin would like them to be, and her hold is more firm and decreasingly human-like, but the way she just eats you up makes you forget it all. It doesn’t matter now, you already signed yourself off to this. 

She is a succubus. You can’t be surprised when she moans like a goddess when you feel a particular jolt of pleasure in your body or when your free hand grasps your bedsheets for support. It’s a dangerous kind of perfection; even when you don’t physically show that her lips suckling onto your clip makes your vision blurry, she somehow knows and spreads you further.

You’ve never felt like this before. You’ve finger your own pussy and used vibrators in the past, but this is otherworldly. You wonder how you could ever live without this. You know that after you’re all fucked and spent, every bit of your need satiated, that you will never be able to have sex with a regular person. That should scare you enough to beg and cry for her to rip up the contract and leave, but there is a knot in your stomach that needs to snap in half. Ellie scratches every inch inside you, knows where you need her. When you crave her tongue deep inside your pussy, her taste buds are suddenly printed onto your inner walls, curling up into your sweet spot. When her mouth isn’t on your clit, her nose steadily fucks it. As if you need any of that to simply cum, though. Just grinding your pussy against her face in such a shameful manner as you’re doing now could be enough. That isn’t how this works, though. She needs you feeling the best.

You feel her middle finger part your folds and slip into your hole, and the feeling of another’s fingers inside of you besides your own for the first time is an experience that you simply will never be able to forget. She reaches places inside of you that you didn’t know about whilst flicking her tongue over your clit at a steady pace. You soon feel another finger inside you, and you realize how truly deep her digits can reach. How nicely they can stretch you, make you feel all full and warm. 

Her tongue pulls away from your clit, her thumb replacing it. The view above you makes you wonder how you’ve lasted this long. She leaves bites all along your navel while fucking you into a whining mess. 

“Fuck, you’re just so tight for me. Pussy needed to be ruined, didn’t it? You needed this.” She sounds breathless, and you can’t even dwell on it because suddenly her teeth, which are noticeably sharper than before, are sinking into your hip. You cry out, and she soothes you with her tongue as it laps up some blood that trickled out of the bite. 

Her fingers make your pussy squelch as they drill in and out of you and curl deep within your insides. You feel tears form in the corners of your eyes from the pure, unfiltered pleasure she sends through your body. 

“C’mon, baby. I need you to cum. Give it to me.”

When her mouth trails up to suck on one of your nipples, swirling over the soft bud like she did your clit, you cum hard. 

There are no words to describe the way a demon can drain your body. It should be labeled horrific, not in a goreish way or in a truly depraved sense, but instead, in a way that leaves you truly ruined. You’re hers, now. Not that she plans on fucking you again, unless you really leave a good mark on her. The feelings that flow through you and transfer over to her are ones you’ll never be able to replicate again. No amount of one-night stands or kink-finding will lead you back to this orgasm. No book can make you feel hooked again, not after the feeling of her nails digging into your skin. It’s almost sad that your first time will actually fuck you up like this. If Ellie is able to feel any sort of guilt for you, she’ll find herself back in your bed. She can do that now. You signed yourself over to her, whenever she wants you. You’ll never find it in you to hate it, either. You’ll crave her so much that anytime she comes back to take care of you and feed off of your need, you will be begging on your knees for just one more orgasm from her. 

For now, you simply lay limp in your bed, body aching and covered in marks from someone who isn’t even human. The bites on you won’t leave your body, and you’ll be lucky if the hickeys fade. You can only hope that she will visit you again soon and give you what you need.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Sweet

Sevika x Female Reader

Soft, emotional sex with Sevikidiki where you end up sobbing ‘cause she’s too sweet.

Cw: Sex: fingering, strap on, praise. Soft dom Sevika. Sub Reader.

MEN DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!

Proofread || Note: It was so fun writing this, I hope you enjoy :) Also, please ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes, i tried my hardest to keep them out!

Her flesh arm wrapped around your waist and you found yourself pinned against her chest. Her lips latched onto hers as she kissed you with an abundance of care and love. Never was there a moment of roughness, of the slightest bit of pain; being a grip or a pull.

Sevika’s hand slithered down to your shorts, entering from your front and pressing against your clit. She slowly moved, causing your breath to heavy and your heart to spike.

Your bedroom was prepared for a movie night, a night where you and your girlfriend could just cuddle. But, things seemed to escalate. There was a change of plans.

The warm light from your lamp illuminated the room, and your freshly lit candles now made the situation much more romantic. The room smelled heavenly, and so did Sevika’s kissing. She was gentle with how much pressure she applied, not wanting to get too intense. You didn’t mind her softness, matter of fact you actually wanted more of it. She’d taken off her prosthetic in order to cuddle with you better. In order to keep away any sharp metals from you. That was the kind of woman she was; only with you, however.

Her middle teased your entrance, finertip going in before slipping right now. She was testing the waters, seeing if you she’d need lube or not— she didn’t. Tongue slipping out of your mouth, lips unattaching, Sevika pulled back with a heavy breath, her eyes opening and she met yours.

“Can I?” Her voice quieter, slightly shaky. “Yeah, I want you to.” And with your approval, she let her finger, carefully, move in. “Y’want me to add another? You don’t have to.” Her grey eyes watching as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “Uh-huh, go ahead.” You, barely able to hold yourself together, nodded. A hand on her cheek with the other on the side of her neck, you hold back a whimper as she added another. It didn’t hurt, no, but it definitely took you a few seconds to get used to. Considering Sevika’s fingers were quite large. “Does it hurt? Tell me to stop if y’need me to, alright?” Her dark lips pressing a kiss on your forehead, letting you know you could say no whenever you wanted to.

She slowly picked up her pace, from slow curls to harder ones, the tips of her fingers found her target and she hit it. You clung to her as she did so, moaning into her shoulder all the while having her kiss your neck. “Is this good, baby?” Her low voice vibrating through you. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s.. good.” Awsome was what you wanted to say. It felt awsome.

Her warm breath brushed against your heated skin, causing you to feel hot. Burning hot. The fast beating of your heart and the heavy breaths you were taking only added to the fire; your body was sweating. And the thought of Seika being in you had your mind giddy, had it working extra hard to make you feel good. And you did. Even in the process of making you cum you felt a sort of high you’d only experience with your girlfriend.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” she’d whisper with a suck at your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. “Don’t stop.. Sev.. that’s so.. fucking good— don’t stop, please!” You’d ramble on, jaw dropping at the familiar pooling in your core. “Y’think I would? I’m offended, love.” Her lips hidden and curled into a smile, she was proud of herself.

Your walls squished against her middle and ring, responding to the experienced curling she was doing inside of you. Your girlfriend even commented; “Feeling good? You’re all tight.” And, yes, it made your face feel hot. How could it not? Her smugness added to the sensation she was, lovingly, providing. It was the way she acknowledged how you reacted that made you whine, made you embarrassed. It even made you further more attracted to her.

“My pretty girl’s so close, I can feel it.” Smothering your neck with hickeys and kisses; only so you’d have a constant reminder of her. “Mm-hm, I am.” Your breathless words causing your woman to fasten her pace. “I can’t.. please! god it’s so good..”

Your hands clenched onto her shoulders as you, yourself, clung onto her. A cry of pleasure escaped your lips and your hips slightly shuddered against her as she helped you ride out your orgasm. Sevika even pulled back to see your face, watch as you came all over her fingers, it was a sight she never truly got used to. It was addictive being able to make her girl so happy.

“Perfect. You were perfect.” Slipping out of you and pulling you close with her wrists; her hand avoiding any contact. “How’d that feel, pretty thing?” Lips pecking yours before she gave you a chance to talk. “Like you said, it was perfect.”

A low humm of acknowledgment came from your girlfriend and she nuzzled into you, forehead resting against your shoulder. “It’s only ten. Can I get the strap?” Know this stuff knocks you out in a few.” She was reffering to the fact that she, herself, could have you asleep faster than any melatonin could. “Sure, but only one round.” You were already exhausted from a little fingering, you doubted you could get through Sevika’s pounding.

At your approval, she quickly grabbed, and slid on, the strap. Clicking the belt in place before plopping down next to you. “What position, ma’am?” Tone all teasing as she had a hand on your arm. “Mm.. I dunno? From the front? That’s the easiest?” She nodded in agreement. “You don’t mind if I have on my mech, do ya?” “Nope.”

From the front was what you got.

Ankles on her shoulders, arms overhead, and your body ready, your girlfriend pressed the tip of her strap to your entrance. Her mech and flesh holding onto your thighs as she slowly, and oh so carefully, pushed inside. Sevika’s strap was thick and long, easily larger than her two fingers— and it took you a while to get used to. “Deep breaths, babe.” Flesh hand pressing down on your lower abdomen, it was her way of making you feel more.

“Trying.” Was your breathless response, head tilted to the side to see the bulge in your skin. Sevika only smiled down at the sight, soaking in the way her strap looked with you wrapped around it. “Convinced every inch of you is beautiful.” The woman leaned forward, holding onto your ankles and slowly beginning to thrust. Your body, as usual, recoiled, and your hands clenched onto the the pillow beneath your clouded head.

Your eyes rolled back as Sevika’s hips rolled deep into you, hitting her target all the while rubbing against your tight walls. She could feel the pressure, the repeated squishing everytime she entered, even the way she had to push hard into you. You were wet, soaked, and it made the job easier. Louder, too. The quiet yet noticeable squelching noises from you filled the room, thanks to your girlfriend.

Not even a few minutes in and you were feeling your stomach pool again. The same heat that would make you feel good formed and you found yourself utterly taken away by the sensation jolting throughout your body. Every part of you enjoyed it.

“Close already?” The woman grunted, wrapping your legs around her hips and deciding to pull you against her chest. “I can’t..” you managed to say, barely able to keep yourself composed. “Sev, I.. fuck— it’s too much,” “need me to stop?” She knew you’d say no, she’d never heard the word leave your mouth. “Don’t.. please, I’m close.”

And she didn’t. Sevika never slowed her pace. Her only goal, at the moment, was to make you cum, all the while feeling loved. She showed so by peppering your forehead with kisses, intertwining her fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head, and whispering soft words in your ear. “You’re doing great, love,” she’d say as she pressed a kiss on the shell of your ear. “Gonna cum for me, hm? Go ahead, baby.” All the while pounding into you. “My girl sounds so pretty, don’t you?” As she lets you burry your face into her shoulder and whimper, moan, as much as you wanted to.

Even though your girlfriend was thrusting hard, she wasn’t being rough. She knew how you needed it, how much you could handle. She’d never push your limits, if that had even crossed her mind. “Vika,” your voice shaky as you sniffle against her skin. Her warmth mixing into yours, her grunts sending a light shiver through you, and her breath tickling your neck. “Is something wrong?” Her pace slowing as she wiped at your wet cheek. “No, don’t stop.. please.” Heart racing in your chest as you said those words. You’d repeated them a thousand times; but they really were true.

“Baby, I’m not.” Sevika, though worried, fastened her pace again and leaned on her arms to get a better look at you. Brows furrowed, eyes lidded and wet, lips parted, with your face heated. As cute as you looked, she had to ask the question. “What’s wrong?” Grey eyes staring deeply into yours. “Later.. I’ll tell.. you later.”

There was nothing wrong, just the fact that you were overwhelmed with the amount of care and love she put in every thrust, every touch. It was adorable and just so sweet that it had you sobbing.

Your orgasm was just as good as the last and, afterwards, Sevika slipped off her strap and decided to cuddle you. “Too much?” She asked, voice quiet and soft, “No, I never said that.” Your face showing your embarrassment. “Then, what? Did I hurt you?” your girlfriend had her prosthetic off again, so her flesh hand did most of the touching. “No, you’re just really nice. That’s all.”

“Nice? I’m really nice?” She repeated, “what does that mean?”

“It means I love you.”

“Oh? That’s.. new.” Her brows raised in surprise. “I love you, too. Even though you cry over stupid things.”

“Those were happy tears—“ “Yeah, alright. You had me worried about happy tears.”

[nebulaeternal]

✦.── In His Clothes── .✦

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: porn w/no plot, praise kink, edging, f!xm

―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: Sylus loved seeing you in his clothes, but couldn't help this particular night when you looked up at him with those eyes that could unravel him in an instant.

―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 836

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: This is pure brainrot writing, mans has been dominating the cranium for too long now. This isn't super clean or anything, nothing is super structured, just pure brainrot. Borrowed some lines from @comatosebunny09 (thanks pookie). If you wanna sign up for the taglist for future posts, the link is below. Enjoy! (Can’t remember where I found the Sylus eye banner but credits to @omi-resources for the name one)

―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Ver. , Twitter, Taglist Sign-up

―୨୧⋆ ˚TAGLIST: @voidsylus

If there was one little thing you did that made Sylus’s heart swell, it was wearing his clothes. It was an unspoken intimacy, a quiet declaration of your comfort in his space—and around him—to be able to equate it to your own. 

He always cherished the sight of you slipping into his home and raiding his closet for something loose and comfortable. Today was no different. Before he could properly greet you, you had already slipped into one of his oversized dress shirts. 

“Hi,” you chirped, finally meeting his gaze. The shirt hung off your shoulder in a way that made his pulse quicken. It was never your intention—at least that he was aware of—but Sylus could not help the way his gaze lingered on you. 

The hem of the shirt mocked him as it rode up your thighs when you reached for something. The deep v-neck dipped perfectly, drawing his eyes to the swell of your breasts every time you leaned over. He felt his body grow hot, his thoughts dancing on the edge of decency until your voice snapped him out of it. “Sylus?”

His stare was almost blank. “Yes sweetie?” He responded, trying to steady himself, though his mind was anything but. For a moment, he had forgotten what you even said, too distracted by the sight in front of him, of you in his shirt and out of your pants. “I was asking if a movie night was okay with you?” you repeated, leaning in with those knowingly pleading eyes that could unravel him in an instant. How could he possibly say no to that?

“Of course. It’s more than alright with me sweetie.”  His opens his arm to you, an invitation that you eagerly you accept as he reached for the remote on the table out in front of him. With his arm now wrapped around you, settling naturally against your side, his fingers idly caressing your skin as you both now turned your attention to the screen.

Except Sylus couldn’t focus. 

It was only about 30 minutes into the movie, his hands began to wander. Fingertips delicately grazing over your skin. His eyes flicked down catching a glimpse of your exposed skin, and finally he caved.

You were pinned beneath what you could call a hungry lion. He eagerly lapped at your skin as he sucked and bit the flesh, enjoying the dark marks that began to bloom. He was quick to have your folds sopping wet and dripping onto his fingers. Enjoying the way you squirmed and pawed at him, eyes glazed and filled with tears of pleasure.

“Sylus~” you mewled out. His fingers curl expertly, hitting that spongy spot inside you. You throw your head back into the plush of cushions, feeling yourself teeter on the brink of an orgasm.

“You’re doing so good for me, kitten.” He coos softly into your ear, feeling your walls clench around his thick digits. His other hand soothed you, gently caressing your hip as he worked you.

Before you could succumb to the tantalizing sensation, his movements halted. A frown was quick to appear on your features but the feeling of his cock sliding slowly into your folds had your dismay long forgotten, eyes rolling back into your head. “There she is~” he purrs, watching your face full of bliss.

Sylus loved the view beneath him. You, practically swimming in his shirt, with your legs folded to your chest, and his cock practically splitting you open while he pumped in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. “Faster.” You managed to whine out but Sylus shook his head.

His hips rolled slowly against yours, dragging the head of his cock slowly against your aching walls till just the tip remained inside and slowly pushing back in, savoring every inch he could while he sunk inside you. The whine that left your lips almost made his self-restraint snap. “You look so beautiful like this.” He murmured, continuing his slow pace.

The movie served as mere background noise as he savored every inch of your skin, swallowing up the whines and moans that left your mouth. His only focus was you–your pleasure, every reaction, the tremble of your body. He eased the grip your thighs, letting them fall naturally at his side “So perfect.” His torturously slow pace continued for the next hour, bringing you closer to the edge, never once letting you fall. At this point you were a sobbing mess, begging desperately for your release. “Sylus please–” You choked out once more, voice laced with need and desperation as you writhed in his hold. He hushed you gently, his voice low and soothing, “I know baby, I know. But you’re doing so good for me.” Your pleading eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and flushed appearance snapped something inside him. He couldn’t deny you any longer, not when you had been so good for him. He groaned in surrender, hips snapping quickly against your own, finally, giving you what you craved. “Give it to me.”

[sunflowerwinds]

sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: vi has crept up into your mind and is keeping put so to try to relieve some of that bubbling crush energy, you bake her some protein muffins. after delivering them to her, she invites you to isha’s birthday party. meeting her entire family is nerve wracking but you’re welcome with open arms.

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is an actual sweetheart, MY family (vander, isha, ekko, jinx, & sevika mentions), fluff and flirty tension, kind of slowburn but not really.

word count: 5.5K

a/n: what do y’all think of my new pfp?😝 i’m so glad everyone has enjoyed that first part of this little series. the overwhelming amount of support has touched my heart, i’m so sorry this took two weeks to come out i will try and be faster with the next part <3 & would 3 parts be too short? lmk in the replies!

— TWO

Making protein muffins was harder than you thought.

You had tried out multiple recipes with different flavors within the span of two days and it was driving your grandmother and your sister up the wall. Her kitchen now smelled like a mixture of all the different scents that were giving her a headache.

They were either dry, not enough flavor, too dense, not fluffy, too strong, etc. The list went on. But finally, on the third day of anxiously cooking, you perfected a beautiful and delicious batch of pumpkin muffins with a few blots of chocolate chips.

Ever since you found out that Vi worked at a kickboxing studio, it sparked an idea in your brain. You could bake some protein muffins to give her. Worried she wouldn’t like them, you double checked with her. You open your text thread with Vi, grinning at the last message she had sent you of the actual address of the studio so that you wouldn’t get lost.

Anxiously tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you stare at the sign above the studio with hesitation. You had done yourself up a bit; just a tad. Okay, a little more than a tad.

This was Vi’s first time seeing you outside of work and you wanted to make a better impression than messily tossed up hair and bundled up layered outfits. You sported a mini black skirt with a pair of opaque tights with an over the shoulder cherry red sweater, your hair left in its natural state. You stare at the black marker writing of Vi’s name on the box in the passenger's seat of your car.

Would she think you were trying too hard?

No, no, no overthinking, you scold yourself. You tug down your sun visor on your driver’s side to double check your makeup before grabbing your purse and the box of muffins for Vi. You open your driver's side to step out onto the gravel parking lot, sucking in a deep breath to calm your nerves as you tug on the cold handle to the door of the studio.

The moment you stepped into the dim lit area, you spotted Vi almost immediately. A black compression athletic tank hugged her upper body, showing off her muscular upper body. Her bandaged hands were landing blows to a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. The sound of her soft grunts and the clinking of the chain holding it up the heavy vinyl bag echoed within the space.

You stand at the edge of the large mat covering the area, unknowingly frozen in place at the sight of Vi’s veins popping out of her biceps with each punch she was throwing. You snap out of it when you realize how long you might’ve been standing there for, clearing your throat and shaking your head at how embarrassing that was.

“Vi, hi!” You wave from across the rubber gym tiles at her panting figure, a bright smile on your face.

Vi lowers her balled up wrapped fists that had been previously punching the bag to wave back at you, a smile creeping onto her lips at the sight of you holding the little tray of homemade treats. You looked like a doll out of place in this sweat-ridden studio in your adorably cozy outfit.

Vi made her way over to where you stood at the edge of the mat, eyes panning up and down as subtly as possible. Seeing her outfit up close caused a heat to tickle the tips of your ears. You swore you could see her abs through the material.

“Hey, cupcake. Those for me?”

“Yep! Thought I’d drop them off before I… head out.” You cleared your throat, nervously smiling at her as you fiddled with the cardboard of the box you had bought for this.

Vi grabs a small towel from a foldable chair where parents would sit through classes to wipe over the back of her sweat-ridden neck. She was so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. You couldn’t tell if you were staring at her as obviously as you thought. Worried you were going to seem like an absolute creep, your eyes blink as they focus on her face.

“Yeah? You have plans today?” Vi hangs the towel around her neck, crossing her arms over her chest.

The movement caused your eyes to flicker down to the protruding muscle. You were sure this time you were staring as her dark tattoos were glistening underneath the thin layer of moisture from her workout. God, you could hear your grandma now teasing you for getting distracted by muscles of all things.

“I mean I’m just going to the grocery store. Need a few more things for Isha’s cake.” You nod to confirm, flickering your eyes back up to hers.

They were somehow even more captivating than her biceps. Her lips twitch into a small grin, nodding slowly.

“The people at the store are very lucky.”

You couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto your lips.

“Shut up,” you look around at the equipment and trophies around the room to try and hide the heat that was undoubtedly forming on your cheeks. “Were you just working out here? Or did you have a class?”

“Yeah, I had a class earlier but it was for mostly 6 to 8 year olds so they didn’t beat me up too bad this time,” Vi jokes as she reminds you of her injuries from the last time you saw her.

You chuckle as you can only imagine seeing Vi with a whole group of children, gently encouraging them to take hits at her. Oh, your heart skipped at the thought.

“Yeah, I mean you look good now.” You blurt out without thinking.

Taking way too long to realize what had stumbled out of your mouth, Vi’s brows raise at your words as the faintest of smirks forms on her lips.

“Yeah?”

Your eyes flicker up to hers, self-consciousness washing over you once that realization sets in. Your mouth opens as you grip the box as some sort of comfort to ease the humiliation creeping up your neck.

“Not that you don’t look good all the time because you–you do! I mean, I don’t see you everyday but I’m sure you do,” you try and recover, voice becoming softer as you trail off.

Vi unfolded her arms from her chest to reach forward to rest them on your shoulders, faintly chuckling at your panic. “Cupcake, relax. I knew what you meant.”

You suck in a deep breath at her touch but you mask it as attempting to calm down from your frantic words.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll just leave these with you now,” you pat the top of the box, looking into her eyes. “I’ll see you soon so you can pick up the cake at the shop?”

Vi nodded in agreement with the set plan, taking the box of muffins from your hands. You nearly frown at the loss of touch that was somehow burning onto your skin even though you were wearing a thicker sweater.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon but,” she clears her throat, moving the box to rest on one of her forearms as she brushes her front pieces of hair to the side. “Did you want to come to Isha’s birthday party?”

“Seriously?” Your smile widens.

Vi nods, eyes crinkling a bit from her smile matching your own.

“Are you sure?” You question, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater. “It won’t be awkward not being family or anything?”

“No, I mean. It’s a small party but I think you’d have fun,” Vi shrugs her shoulders, suddenly becoming more sheepish. “Isha wants you there. Couldn’t stop talking about the nice bakery lady.”

“Just Isha?” You tilt your head, hopeful that she would give you the answer that you craved.

Vi taps on the box with a small smile. “I want you there, too.”

Oh, your gram would be jumping with glee seeing this interaction. Your face ignites a flame at her honesty, nodding with a beaming smile.

“I’ll be there. I’ll just bring the cake then.” You nod, pushing back flyways from your hair.

“Okay, good. I’ll text you the address, cupcake.”

You nod for what felt like the millionth time at the pink haired girl, taking a step back to try to force yourself to leave her warm presence.

“Okay and if you like those, uh, muffins, let me know if you want any other protein snacks. I like a good baking challenge.” You motion to the muffins.

Please say yes, you internally begged.

“I will. Though, I doubt I won’t like them if you’re the one baking them,” Vi assures your frantic mind.

You grin at her awkwardly, not knowing how to take these little flirty gestures she would throw at you. At least, you thought they were supposed to be flirty.

“Okay, okay,” you wave your hands, chuckling sheepishly to yourself as you realize you’ve probably overstayed your welcome. “I’ll leave you to… your boxing stuff.”

Vi chuckles at your wording, pointing to the clear door.

“Have fun shopping. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you, Vi.”

You felt like throwing up from your nerves.

You had texted Vi later that day after dropping off the muffins what you should wear so that you wouldn’t be either too overdressed or underdressed. It was a child's birthday party, for God’s sake but you still didn’t want to be too out of place especially around her family.

from vi ♥︎ | Do you have any options?

to vi ♥︎ | kind of? i have ideas of what i could wear but i’m stuck :/

from vi ♥︎ | Let me see and I’ll tell you what looks best!

You nearly dropped your phone on your face at the message. Standing up from your bed, you scurried to your closet to pick out two options as you didn’t want to bombard her with photos of yourself. You quickly change in your planned outfits minus the shoes, sending both of them to her. You were panting from how you switched from one to the next.

from vi ♥︎ | Fuck, you look good in both

from vi ♥︎ | I was expecting this to be an easier decision but you really just look good in either.

to vi ♥︎ | violet :(

Could she tell how flustered you were from behind the screen?

from vi ♥︎| I’m serious

from vi ♥︎ | But if you want me to choose, I’ll say the first one!

to vi ♥︎ | thank youuu! i was stressed about that lol

from vi ♥︎ | You’re going to be fine. I promise :)

to vi ♥︎ | really?

from vi ♥︎ | Yes. You’re the lady bringing the cake. No one can hate the lady bringing the cake, duh.

to vi ♥︎ | yeah, yeah, okay. i’ll relax now.

Now you were standing at the front door of the small suburban home in that very outfit that Vi had chosen; a white tee with an espresso brown cardigan over it and a pair of your favorite baggy dark wash jeans. Your hair was half-up, half-down and your cleanest pair of Docs. You rang the doorbell just a few seconds ago, patiently waiting for someone to answer the door.

If you held your breath, you could hear muffled footsteps approaching the wooden door. The sound of the locks unlatching signals you to straighten your back, preparing yourself for whoever was going to answer the door. The hinges creak as it swings open to reveal Vi, sporting a welcoming smile.

Similar to you, she was wearing a brown cut off sleeve top, a white tank top underneath the open torso portion and a pair of black jeans. You try not to read into the matching colors too much.

“Hi! I was so scared I got the wrong house,” you chuckle as you stare into her eyes.

“Nope, you got it. Everyone is in the back. Come on,” Vi reaches for your hand, tugging you through the small house halls.

You nearly drop the cake as you urge her to slow down, releasing soft chuckles at her eagerness. You glance around at the cozy walls of the home, catching a few glances at a few family photos hanging and set up on shelfs. You made a mental note to try and sneak inside to get a closer look at those.

You step through a white chipping back door, Vi guiding you to the birthday party set-up for the precious child. Green streamers hung on the wooden fence to appear as vines as a photo op and a foldable table that was filled with wrapped and bagged presents with Isha’s name in balloons with a few animal print ones surrounding the inflatable letters as music played from a speaker. It wasn’t the coldest day as it was nearing the end of November but there was a slight breeze and the sun was shining beautifully to really wrap up the sight of this unknown family.

You hold up the cake underneath the white box, subconsciously gripping onto Vi’s hand due to the anxiety swimming through your veins.

“Come on. I want you to meet everyone,” Vi insists, a charming smile on her face as she walks up to a group of people that were sitting at a round table that had a jungle leaf tablecloth over it.

The whole table had cups of drinks in front of them, talking amongst each other with animated features.

“Hey guys,” Vi speaks up, her hand still holding yours gently.

A chorus of greetings overwhelms you in a good way as she goes around the table to name them off one by one.

“Okay, this is Jinx, my other sister,” she points to a pale skinned girl with two electric blue hip length braids, a few strands coming from the front to frame her face.

The girl smiles at you with kindness, eyes widening as she seems to realize who you are.

“You’re the bakery girl? That donut was delicious. I have full trust that the cake will be amazing,” Jinx nodded with a wink, leaning into the darker skinned boy next to her.

“That’s Ekko,” Vi chuckles as she points at white haired boy.

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” he grins at you, nodding his head at you to show his acknowledgement of you.

“Hi!” You reciprocate the gesture, looking at the more broad woman on the other side of him.

“And Sevika. Don’t let that mean face scare you. Just wait until Isha comes down from the bouncy house.” Vi gave your hand a squeeze, a teasing grin on her face.

Sevika huffs at the pink haired girl's words but manages to press a semi-warm smile on her face in your direction. You nod with a more timid ‘hi’ leaving your lips. You didn’t want to say it out loud but she scared you a bit.

Okay, she scared you a lot.

“I think my dad’s inside but I’ll go let Isha know you’re here. Be right back.” Vi, after what felt like ages, released your hand to walk over to the bouncy house that was filled with a few more kids around Isha’s age.

The second her warm palm left your own, a wave of alarm washed over your features now being left alone with people that were closest to her. You turn to the group with the calmest expression you could muster to attempt to hide how nerve-wracking this was for you.

“You can relax, you know,” Jinx was the first to speak, tilting her head at your tense figure. “Here. I can take the cake. I’ll put it in the fridge.”

She stood up, reaching her pale hands out to you to take the cardboard box from you. You thank her quietly as you allow her to relieve you of that worry, leaving you alone with Ekko and Sevika.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be awkward,” you shake your head, taking the seat opposite to Sevika to leave Jinx’s spot still open.

“Vi told us how nervous you were so we were kind of expecting it,” Ekko admits which makes you wince a bit. “But, hey, we could do some ice breakers? Tell us something that’ll ease the tension.”

You nod at Ekko’s offer, pondering for a moment as you pick out a random fact from the depths of your brain’s memory log.

“Oh, I went to the hospital when I was 7 because I swallowed my Polly Pocket’s purse because my grandma said I had ‘wanted to know what it tasted like’.” You offer, glancing between the two strangers in front of you.

Sevika raised one of her palms to cover her mouth like she was trying to hide her amusement from your sentence. Ekko’s eyes widened as he snorted back a laugh, causing you to proudly smile at yourself on succeeding on breaking the ice just a bit.

“Jinx nearly burned my hair off when we were kids. She was obsessed with making homemade bombs,” Ekko shared with you, pointing to a mark in his eyebrows. “I still can’t grow hair in this spot on my eyebrow because of it.”

“I got this scar from her kicking me in the face when she wouldn’t go to the dentist when she was 9,” Sevika pointed at her half an inch scar on her top lip with a shake of her head.

“Okay so what I’m hearing is to stay clear of Jinx,” you joke.

This seemed to ease the tension between you and the two completely, them nodding to confirm. Slowly but surely, everyone started sharing stories of their childhood as did you. You learned alot about Vi and her little family through these two, feeling more connected to them already. As you shared what your jobs were like, you feel a smaller frame tackle you from the side. You look down to see a head of wild bronze waves cling onto your arm.

It was undoubtedly Isha. Vi stood behind her with a sweet smile, folding her arms over her chest before she pats Ekko on the back as she sits herself down on the other side of you. You send her a quick glance, her brows raising as if to check up on you and you nod to assure her.

“Hey birthday girl,” you look down at her, golden eyes staring into yours.

She makes a delighted sound, snuggling more into you. You rub a hand over her back for a moment before raising your hands to sign that she looked cute, motioning to her adorable birthday sash and bunny ears over her black and white striped tee.

Signing right back to you with an elated smile, she says; ‘you look beautiful.’

Your heart tightens at her kind words, signing a ‘thank you’ before tugging her into a gentle embrace. Her back was a bit damp from what you assume is the sweat from jumping around in the bouncy castle.

“She’s excited for her cake,” Vi hums as she stares down at her sister with a teasing grin.

Isha nods enthusiastically at her words to confirm said excitement, looking over to Ekko and Sevika and signing something that you didn’t pick up due to her turning away from you. They both nod, eyes following over to Vi’s figure next to you with raised brows. You turn to look at Vi in confusion at the silent communication but choose to mind your own business as Vi’s cheeks seem to match her hair now. You didn’t want to embarrass her further.

“Alright, who’s hungry? The pizza’s here!” A deep English accent comes from behind the group, a burly yet kind looking man comes from the back door which you came from carrying five pizza boxes.

Jinx trails behind him with two bags of ice stacked on her own arms.

“You hungry, cupcake?” Vi places a hand on your shoulder, jerking her head over to the man.

You suck in a deep breath at her words, feeling Isha’s fingers wrap around your own that were resting in your lap. You were unbelievably hungry but knowing that this was going to be your first impression of Vi's father made your stomach churn, attempting to suppress your hunger.

But you push through.

“Yeah, I could eat,” you nod to confirm, turning your head to the side to give her a composed smile.

Sevika and Ekko followed you and Vi’s lead as you both stood up from your seats again to walk across the slightly overgrown grass, nearly tripping as a few more children passed by your hips and legs to run towards the table full of cardboard boxes of pizza.

“Hey, hey, slow down. One at a time,” the man told the group of kids, pointing at them to grab the disposable plates.

“Dad,” Vi called, taking your right hand once again while Isha still clung to your other.

“And who is this, Violet?” He questions his daughter as he places a slice on a child's plate in the line they formed.

“Hi!” You speak up before Vi could as you introduce yourself.

The man nods at your introduction, a friendly smile on his face as he plates another child’s plate. His eyes flicker to his eldest daughter with a raise of his brows before focusing his attention on you.

“Vander. Vi’s told me alot about you,” he states as he points to the pink haired girl standing next to you. “You’re the sweet lady who made Isha’s birthday cake. Got to say, I saw it in the fridge and it’s absolutely perfect. Thank you for doing that for her.”

You felt overwhelmed by the compliments from the man, strangely having the urge to hug him but only tighten your grip on Vi and Isha’s hands.

“Oh, it really was so much fun to make too. I don’t get a lot of cake orders so I was excited to test myself, I guess,” you assure the man of your adoration with the job.

“You work up an appetite baking? We’ve got some fine cuisine here,” his voice was playful as he motions to the greasy boxes.

You nod to confirm which resulted in a strong Dad-like laugh to leave Vanders’ throat before he raised a hand to clap on your shoulder, tugging you towards the boxes now that all of the children had gotten their own pizza slices. You release the two sister’s hands before looking up at the man.

The entirety of the birthday party quickly became a party game frenzy after everyone hounded down their greasy food. There was cup stacking; Vi won that one, pin the tail on the donkey; Isha won that, limbo; you almost broke your back trying to do that, etc. You saw a more eccentric and playful side of Vi, cursing her for being such a bright person around her family.

It made her all the more attractive.

When you ended up being her partner for the wheelbarrow race, you felt like a freak for those good few seconds where you were holding her legs up by her ankles so she could use her hands to ‘run’ across the grass. You kept your eyes straight forward for as long as possible.

They lingered a bit downward because why the hell did her ass look good in black jeans? You nearly won but Isha and one of their little cousins who had come to the party won that round due to you being… well, distracted for a moment. She stuck the middle finger up and stuck her tongue out at Vi quickly before Vander could see, causing you and Vi to gasp before she celebrated with her cousin again with a cheeky grin.

Your real enemy ended up being the three legged race. You and Vi’s hips were touching, arms interlocked as a bandana was being tied around your thighs to keep you from separating. You suck in a deep breath as Sevika tightens the fabric, patting the area to tell you two it was good.

“Good luck,” Sevika tells the two of you, standing back up to move on to Ekko and Jinx who were next in the lineup.

Vi grins at the elder, looking over at you as she brushes her hair out of face.

“Who do you think is going to win, huh?”

“I know you want me to say us but I have high hopes for Ekko and Jinx. She’s very scrappy,” you admit with a soft laugh, your hand twiddling with a loose fabric on your cardigan.

Vi nods slowly in agreement at your words.

“And Ekko?” She hums.

“He matches that,” you lean in closer before pulling back as the wind blows your hair a bit.

This Vi chuckles at, not denying that accusation. Vander moves to the front very end of the fence of the backyard, cupping his large hands around his mouth to shout the countdown.

“On your marks,” he yells, “get set.”

He pauses dramatically before raising his left hand upwards to mimic a flag and slam it back down before yelling out: “Go!”

You and Vi immediately start to move yourselves forward, Jinx whining that you two were cheating already. Vi’s hard bicep tug into your own as she tried to keep you two from tripping.

Isha and one of her cousins were catching up to you quickly, their little legs beating you. Some force was on your side that day as you had stepped forward with your free leg and rolled your ankle a bit on what felt like a toy.

It happened too fast for you to comprehend but you fell to the ground. You turned to your back side without thinking and nearly twisted your ankle doing so.

Vi’s hand attempts to grab your forearm but in doing so, falls over with you. Her body covers your own, her weight laying on top of your own. You groan at the impact hitting your stomach and chest, looking down at your legs to see that the fabric of the bandana had ripped which was what caused Vi’s body to be on you and not next. Her body shifts to lift her upper body up to relieve that ache in your chest.

Vi lifts her head to stare down at you with a concerned expression, hands on either side of your head.

“Shit, are you okay?”

You tilt your head down to how Vi’s hips were pressed into yours and look back up to stare into her twisted expression.

“Yeah, I’m… good,” you lied through your teeth as the back of your head was now throbbing.

Vi’s eyes were searching your own for any sort of discomfort. Your chests were centimeters apart as you breathed heavily to try and catch your breath, eyes boring into one another's. Suddenly, your head and backache were forgotten about. You swore for just a moment Vi’s eyes flickered down to your lips before pushing up off of you, grunting as she stood to her feet.

She brushed off her jeans before leaning forward to wrap her hand around your forearm to help you up and off the grass. You allow her to tug you upwards to your feet, avoiding her glaze like the plague.

“Ekko and Jinx take the cake!” You hear Vander start to clap, wincing out loud. “You two alright? Kind of got caught up in the competition for a moment there.”

“Fine, Dad,” Vi replies as she watches you brush off your own legs, sucking in a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“A little headache but I’ll survive, Vi.” You shake your head, brushing your hair out of your face with a lighthearted chuckle.

You two sadly couldn’t speak for longer as Vander announced it was time for cake. Vi’s hand lingered on your arm as she ushered the two of you to the set-up, watching as Jinx carefully came out with the lit birthday cake. Your eyes round with admiration at Isha scrambling to sit still in her chair as her big golden eyes widen as everyone starts to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.

Watching the scene unfold sent a bittersweet sense of comfort, remembering how you were once that small with a family like this. You hoped Isha could have this forever, security and love wrapped into one. If a tear left your eye, you’d disguise it as it being from the impact just a few moments ago.

The party died down slowly as adults and other family members came to pick up the other children that were at the function, getting pieces of the cake shoved into their palms that Vi had been praising since she took her first bite. Feeling like you had overstayed your welcome as the family was now gathered in the kitchen area to clean up, you quietly tell Vi that you should probably head home.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll walk you out,” Vi holds her finger up to Jinx, Ekko, Sevika, and Vander who were in the middle of a conversation.

“Aw, what? You have to go home already?” Jinx furrows her brows, huffing out a breath. “I didn’t even get to embarrass Vi in front of you yet.”

You chuckle at her words while Vi grumbles a sound of annoyance at her sister.

“I’m sure you’ll do it soon enough. And yeah, I got baking duties to tend to.”

“Well, I hope we get to see you more often and not just so you can bring us cake,” Jinx stepped forward to give you a quick hug.

You pat her back with a new sense of welcoming into Vi’s family, nodding in agreement with that statement. You say goodbye to everyone, making sure to sign Isha one more ‘Happy Birthday’ to which she signs back what you think is ‘Bye, pretty cake lady.’

As you walk down the halls to the front door, Vi questions: “What are you baking next?”

Catching you off guard, you ponder for a moment.

“Well, I’ve been dying to make some cinnamon rolls but kneading the dough can be tiring.” You huff as you watch Vi open the door for you, allowing you to step onto the gray concrete walkway that leads to the driveway. “Why?”

“Just… wondering.”

Then an idea sparks in your head as you lean against your car, turning to face Vi with a hesitant smile.

“Did you want to come over to mine to help me bake them?” You offer quickly before you could fumble and retract the statement.

Vi’s dark brows raise into her hairline at your invitation.

“You just want me to knead the dough, don’t you?” She teases.

You blow out a breath of air as you shrug your shoulders as if it wasn’t the first thing you thought of. “I mean, if you really want to. I wouldn’t mind it.”

Vi purses her lips as she nods, trying to repress her beaming smile. “Yes, I do want to.”

A sense of accomplishment washes over you at how you successfully made it through today without having any major screw-ups.

“I really had a good time today. I forgot how much fun birthday parties can be,” you grin sheepishly as you stand by your car, the sunset lighting up the side of your face beautifully.

Vi’s smile only grew at how stunning you looked.

“I told you that you would. You should come over more,” Vi shrugged her shoulders, tilting her head at you.

You hum with a playful smile as you bump your shoulder with hers. “So I can get multiple concussions? I don’t think so.”

“Well, I can promise I can try to prevent as many of those as possible.”

You chuckle out an ‘okay’ at her words, fiddling with your cardigan sleeve. There was a beat of silence between the two of you, the soft breeze sending shivers down your spine. Your bad habit of admiring her silently; nearly creepily hit you when you made eye contact with her, her brows raising at you challengingly.

“Right, yeah, so I’ll let you know when I have everything to make the cinnamon rolls,” you stated as your hand hovered your driver's side door handle, snapping out of your temporary trance.

Vi’s arms folded over the front of her chest, scuffing her shoes on the concrete of their driveway as she rocked her on her heels.

You find her eyes once again, taking in a confidence wielding breath as taking a step forward to wrap your arms around her neck. Vi was taken aback for half a second, breath hitching before she let her arms drop from their spot to hold you up your torso with one arm as the other raised to cradle the back of your head with her hand. You bury your head into her neck to cling onto the warmth for as long as you could.

“Thank you again for coming, cupcake. I’ll see you soon, alright?” Vi says gently into your temple, sliding her hand off of your head.

“Yeah,” you suck in a deep breath, “I’ll see you.”

Achingly doing so, you detach yourself from her embrace to finally get into your car. Vi stood in the driveway as you reversed and drive off, waving at you until you were down the road.

previous part -> next part

TAG-LIST: @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25 @loserbaby66 @eddiesdrummergf @jokermoonie @ranxiaolong @morphids @gayandcurious @oatmatchalatte @iamastar @saviourcomplexgf @vihxh7 @jinxjinxjinx12 @krilara @unear7hly @magical-rush

[hwallazia]

ARCH MY BACK LIKE THAT VIOLIN – 최산

⋆ synopsis. chosen to perform a violin solo for a xmas recital, he practices tirelessly at home. the haunting melody fills the air, but it’s the way his fingers move masterfully over the strings that stirs something deep within you, leaving you shifting in your seat. when his sharp gaze locks onto yours, he realizes exactly what kind of performance you’re craving—and he’s more than ready to deliver.

pairing. boyfriend! san & fem! reader.

wc. 2,8k

warnings. soft dom! san, slight switch! san towards the end tho, praise kink, slight teasing, begging, petnames (my love, princess, sannie & more), san refers to reader’s tits as his girls <3, nipple play/sucking, unprotected sex (we don’t sponsor that here!), clit play, finger fucking, masturbation (f! receiving), big cawk! san, bulge kink, dacryphilia, breeding kink, creampie, san makes reader squirt for the first time!! (but not the last tho heheh)

nic’s notes ⋆ yesss she’s here, third ff of the xmas event! i had such a good time writing thisss, i insanely love violinist! san ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

“love, it’s pretty late. c’mon, let’s go to sleep.” you soothed warmly, peeking from the door as you stared at the standing figure of your boyfriend.

“lemme practice this just one more time.”

san stood in front of his black metallic music stand, which held the endless sheet music of a christmas carol. swift, feline eyes wandered through the paper as his index finger shifted over it and stopped once his phalange covered a certain bar whilst his palm grabbed his precious, dark wooden violin. he muttered something under his breath that you couldn’t quite understand, and you stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. “you’ve said that for the past 45 minutes.”

“i knoww.” he whined as he glanced at you pleadingly. after a heavy sigh, san continued. “it’s just that i can’t get this thing right. i keep on messing up the notes and i don’t know why.” in a smooth motion, he left his violin on his desk, right next to its dark brown, matching case.

with a soft sigh, you walked towards him and stroked his sides before your palm reached to cup his right cheek, san immediately nuzzled into your loving hand as he closed his eyes, melting into you.

“my love, you already know how to play it perfectly. the hard part is over—you’ve practiced so much, and it shows.” your calm, soothing voice almost like a lullaby to him. “it’s just the nerves talking right now. tomorrow, once you’re up there, you’ll shine like you always do.” you got on your tippy toes and pressed a small, yet endearing kiss on his rosy cheek. you held his face in your hands. “trust yourself, okay? i believe in you.”

san stole the cute smile plastered on your face with a big, fat kiss. his thin lips melted into yours perfectly as his tongue made its way through your oral cavity —not even asking for permission before enveloping yours in a weird coil. the insides of your mouth tingled deliciously as you felt your limbs numbing from the exquisite and pleasant sensation.

he broke the kiss, yet a string of saliva hung there like a bridge, connecting your bottom lips. your dazed eyes opened and met your boyfriend’s intoxicating, lovely grin. wasn’t that man such a fool for you.

“i love you, y’ know that? so goddamn much.” he whispered right above your lips. he was being careful, afraid that if he even grazed them, he’d dive right in again.

“yeah.” your voice cracked, but you couldn’t care any less. ‘cause that’s the effect choi san has on you, he’d leave you breathless with wobbly legs in just a couple of seconds.

though that kiss may not have lasted long, it felt as if you had traversed the entire milky way in just five seconds.

san chuckled before pecking your reddened lips again. “i’ll just practice this last one. and i promise.” he stuck out his pinky, ready to intertwine it with yours.

you glanced at him with narrowed eyes. “no need to make promises. i’ll just stay here and make sure that it’s actually the last one.”

“fine then.” he headed to where he had left his instrument to grab it again and position it below his chin; slim fingers held the bow and placed it gracefully over the strings. meanwhile, you had made yourself comfortable on the couch placed at the corner of the room, waiting expectantly for your boyfriend to start playing a song.

san’s brown irises travelled across the sheet music once again, before he exhaled, cloed his eyes and started moving the bow masterfully over the strings. a very joyful and beautiful melody began to pour out of the soundbox, the notes reverberated throughout the entire space and created a perfectly charming ambience.

his body swung side to side like a seesaw as he played those notes to perfection, skillful phalanges wandered through the fingerboard, gracefully pressing the tensed strings and emitting those notes he studied so tirelessly.

he looked absolutely majestic. the way his body connected with the music, the way his mind followed every memorized sound and just went along with what sounded and felt right, the way his brows furrowed as he swayed the bow over the strings.

he was one with his instrument, and you loved him so much for that.

as your irises scanned his frame, you mindlessly focused on his fingers, which moved fast, yet calmly over the fingerboard. suddenly, the melodic sound of his violin was overshadowed by the voices in your head, who only screamed how badly you wanted his fingers to hold you, to touch you. by then, the christmas carol would only echo in your eardrums.

you were so drowned in that man’s fingers that you didn’t notice when his cat-like eyes opened and gyrated his rocking body to meet your sitting figure. your thighs automatically pressed against each other, in search of some relief, but it only sent stronger and more consistent sparks into your excited clit. your thoughtless self shifted in your seat, and that’s when san knew.

you were getting off on that.

swift, devilish irises accompanied the sinful smirk that struck his face. he lowered his eyelids once again and purposely skipped a whole pentagram.

he had to help his pretty girl out.

and yet, the man finished the song quickly and perfectly. his eyes fluttered open and glanced at your flustered self, dark irises peered into your warmed cheekbones and dilated pupils.

the melodic echoes suddenly vanished and you blinked, san’s dangerous gaze already burying loving holes into your surprised and anxious expression.

a low hum vibrated through san’s chest. “i’ll give that one to ya. you were right, i actually could do it.” he said before putting his instrument back in its case.

you recomposed quickly, clearing your throat before standing up and wrapping your arms around his neck, closing the space between you and melting into a fondling hug. “of course i was. i’m never wrong when it comes to you.”

his expression softened even more as he kissed the tip of your nose. “cheesy.”

“learned from the best.” your eyes disappeared into two adorable crescent moons as your smile grew wider; cheeks puffing. the sight almost made san’s nose bleed.

he hummed in agreement, and in a matter of a few seconds, something about his stare changed, something that didn’t go unseen by you. before you could scramble through all the possible answers, he bent his knees and reached for the back of your thighs to lift you up. your body jumped from the surprise and your hands quickly clung onto his neck and back when he started walking, carrying you in his arms as if you were a baby.

which was partially correct, ‘cause you were his baby.

“where’re we going?”

“to our bedroom, baby. you said we needed to rest, right?” he replied in a honeyed, yet low tone—the one he knows drives you up a wall. “‘nd i gotta thank my princess for helping me out.” he paused briefly. “it’s only fair i help you back. right, baby?”

thanks to his long steps, you entered your shared bedroom in no time. san cautiously laid your body flat over the mattress, completely sprawled out in front of him.

“h—help me? what d’ya mean?” your blushed face scanned his, and you finally found the arousal lit inside his feline eyes.

“y’ think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs together when i was playing the violin just now?” he purred into your ear as those fingers you oh so much desired glided over your upper thighs, painfully making their way down in slow motion

“i— i mean, i was feeling cold.” you blurted out. “it’s too damn cold in your studio, you’re mixing things up!”

your whining only made san’s smirk grow bigger. “oh sweetheart, we both know it wasn’t ‘cause of the cold.”

he patted your thigh softly, indicating you to lift your hips a tad. “lemme get you outta these.” you obeyed and he withdrew your black panties smoothly. you reminded yourself to enjoy your last minutes with your short satin nightgown because you knew that it was going to be the next fabric to fly through the air.

“what’re you getting all shy for, hm?” he asked endearingly as he adjusted his position so he could be perfectly between your legs, a strange kind of mercy pouring out from every syllable he mouthed.

“‘s just embarrassing that i’m horny from only you moving your fingers. ‘s ridiculous, i feel like a teenager.” you spouted as the red on your face intensified. quick fingers covered the warmed skin of your face, but even quicker fingers tore them away.

“ohhh baby.” he cooed at you. “and why’s that embarrassing?” he muttered as he swiped his fingers up and down your dampened folds. a delicious spark ignited along your back, making it arch slightly, as goosebumps began to rise at the ghostly touch of his fingertips. “after all,” his fingers stopped wandering around. “you’re getting them wherever you want.”

he whispered lowly and pushed two fingers inside, unhurriedly twisting and turning them around. his digits were dug into a quite familiar place, and san already knew where to guide them. just as if he had studied your pussy to perfection.

meanwhile, you felt full, panting steamy puffs. with your head turning to the side, you mewled endlessly. “ughh sannieee, ‘s too slow.” you complained, your voice barely above a whisper, too shy to meet his gaze, your eyes darting nervously elsewhere.

he tsked and spanked the flesh of your outer thigh softly. “you know better than to ask for things that way, babe.” he spoke in a gravelly manner. “c’mon. be a good girl and look at me.”

with a big gulp, your eyes found the strength to meet his devilish stare. a proud smirk was drawn across his face. “that’s it. now, what do you need, love?”

“f—faster.. please, sannie.” you whimpered softly, praying he’d show some mercy and not tease you throughout the entire night.

because as much as you were embarrassed to admit it, it was true. you needed him. and right fucking now.

“that’s my girl.”

and who is he to deny you your wish. he immediately rammed his slim fingers into your slit, angling them differently every time as he tried to hit all the right places, and that special, gummy spot was soon found and stroked deliciously. a loud cry escaped your lips when he pressed his fingertips against your g-spot. san grunted as your moans sent sparks right to his hardened, restrained cock. he exhaled harshly as he grabbed the corner of your dress. “get this off, wanna see my girls.”

both of you messily got rid of that fabric san would describe as annoying. now, with nothing else that could stop him, he latched his lips onto your perked nipple, sloppily swirling his tongue all around the bud whilst his free hand attended the other one.

he wasn’t going to neglect any part of you.

meanwhile, you were an unleashed whining and writhing mess underneath him. your chest heaved with every breathless sound you emitted. you felt like he was eating you alive, any of his actions saturating every inch of your being, causing your skin to tingle helplessly.

if that was how heaven felt like, you’d beg god to never let you leave that moment.

‘cause fuck. you felt him everywhere. the tip of his tongue and finger gliding over your nipples, his digits pounding your messy, wet pussy, drenched with that creamy white essence. you could sense it all at the same time, and it was about to tip you over the edge.

he pulled away from your swollen nipple for a moment. “i feel you tightening around my fingers. you ‘bout to cum, princess?” he whispered in a velvety tone, one that made your eyes roll all the way back to your skull. and he didn’t let that go unnoticed. “oh you’re so pretty when you’re about to cum, rolling your eyes back. am i filling you up that good, babe?” a loud and broken whimper was all he got as a response, and at that, he chuckled deeply. “guess i am, huh?” he pressed a little kiss on your cheek, which was covered in a light layer of sweat. though san couldn’t care less. “what a pretty girl you are, coming all undone for me. how did i get this lucky, hm?”

something unknown stirred inside you—something that could be compared with the sensation of wanting to pee. an alert rang inside you, and your shaky hands tried to tear san’s hands off your body. “s—sannie. sannie, love. i need to- ngh! please, wait—ahh fuck!” you desperately cried out loud, dying of embarrassment already.

“let me make you cum first, sweetheart. you’re so close already.” he cooed at you before attaching his thumb toyour clit and start rubbing it in circling motions. with a broken scream, you felt liquid gushing out of you in a strange way, like a spray.

you exhaled breathlessly, soundless pants pouring out your mouth. your dazed eyes couldn’t focus appropriately, they just wandered around the room dizzily. after a moment, you could reorganize your thoughts and, at least, muttered an understandable sentence. “wh.. what happened.”

signs of confusion described your expression and san only stood there, wordlessly admiring your state. he blinked twice before speaking again. “you fucking squirted.”

“what? i squirted?”

“yeah you did, attagirl.” he trapped you between his strong, muscly arms, his frame completely covering yours. dark, sinning eyes analyzed every bit of your flushed, blissed-out expression quietly. “now on my cock.”

“i don’t even how i did that, san!” you squealed as your hands reached up to cover your shining face.

“me neither. i guess we’ll just figure it out together.” he hummed lowly. “give me six rounds.”

your eyes shot open as you separated your fingers, your eyes now visible from the crack of them. “six?!”

trembling knees and arms tried their best to support you, but san pounding you from behind wasn’t helping. your jaw hung open as loud cries and broken whimpers escaped your swollen lips helplessly, your eyes could no longer focus, and you had given up on trying to adjust your vision. san grabbed a fistful of your hair and arched your back into a perfect obtuse angle. “that’s fucking it.”

his name left your mouth like an endless mantra. every thought of yours screamed san and how good he was fucking you. “sannie” you blurted out his favorite nickname. “y’r so fucking deeeep.” tears started streaming down your face, and that drove san crazy.

“you crying? ohhh” he cooed mockingly. “y’r so— ugh fucking gorgeous when you c-cry, look at that.”

he let go of your hair and your head fell down immediately. his now free hand reached down your belly whilst he kept on hammering his big cock into your tight, gushing pussy. he pressed his palm flat against it and you lost it. an almost pornographic moan was heard from you. “can you feel me, love? feel me filling your tight little pussy all the way up?” he groaned as he sensed his cock emptying your belly and fulfilling to perfection, not leaving blank spaces. “attagirl. taking all my cock just like that like my good girl.” a loud spank reverberated through the steamy air.

you clenched around him helplessly as your quivering fingers struggled to grasp the messy white sheets. “c—cum, sannie, cum for me, please.”

you were begging for him to come? that immediately pushed san off the abyss. “y’ wan’ me to cum? wan’ me to breed you? ‘s that what it is, baby?”

you couldn’t formulate any answer, only vague and useless mewls poured out of you. so san kept on talking. “answer me, love.” he smashed his hips against the flesh of your wet ass. “i’ll only cum if you s—say so.” he exhaled a whine. he whined. “you’ll let me, r-right?”

oh how have the tables turned.

“yeah, my sannie. fill me up.” you managed to mutter.

“thank you—thankyouthankyouthankyou.” with just a few more thrusts, he emptied himself inside your warm, gummy walls with a loud grunt, coating your cunt in a pretty shade of white. when he pulled out to paint your ass with his shooting ropes of cum, a turbulent cascade sprayed out your pussy, soaking him up.

a proud, slightly tired smile appeared across his face. “i made you squirt again.” he muttered before lying down. he manhandled you like a doll so you could be laying on his chest.

you sighed breathlessly. “you sound like a toddler beating his brother in mario kart.”

he giggled. “it’s so mesmerizing though, being the only one who can make ya squirt like that.”

you lifted your head to look at him with confusion written all over your face. “what do you mean ‘like that’?”

“babe that thing’s a cascade. like it just sprays everything everywh—“ your hands quickly reached up his mouth and sealed it.

“okay babe, we get it. save the detail.” you deadpanned.

| masterlist

[cloudvelundr]

I was gonna put this in tags because this is technically just two things but I think I need more space to yell about it:

Tags, summary or top of the page authors notes that read any version of this sucks, I’m bad at this, don’t read this is awful.

Stop that. Stop That Shit Right Now. Because first off? Don’t put yourself down like that. Would you talk to your friends like that? To anyone trying something new and nervous about it? No! So don’t fucking do it to you! And secondly, you presumably wrote that recently right? It’s fresh. You don’t actually know if it’s good because know what all is happening in the background, you know where all the threads on the back of the embroidery are, and it colours your view of what everyone else sees, but they don’t know about all that! They just know the finished product in front of them, and they are allowed to decide if they think it’s good - they may even tell you what they like about it! And maybe it is potato quality, but you know what? People like potatoes! Write what you like, at whatever level of learning or quality or effort you like, forever, share it if you want to, and let people decide they like it or not themselves.

And if you absolutely have to put something? “No beta we die like men/the Jedi/jason todd/danny fenton/insert dead character here” is well loved. “x is not my first language” “first fic be kind” “constructive criticism welcome/not welcome” something along those lines… even an author note like “I’m not sure how I feel about this” is better, but if you’re going to put something neg be sure to add a positive. “Banged out in an hour” or “started making it had a breakdown bon appetite” and similar will also give an idea of quality without being an explicit drag. Effort was low but at least something was accomplished!

Just keep it brief, try not to cast aspersions, and don’t tear yourself down.

Formatting.

Oh my god formatting.

Use paragraphs. Please, please, please, please use paragraphs. If I find a text wall I am leaving.

The general rule for paragraphs is to change paragraphs whenever there’s a change in person or action. New speaker? New line. Change in time? New line. Action sequence ended? Change line.

… Now all of these are subject to context because paragraphing changes tone and speed and so much else, but generally a paragraph is a unit with something unifying behind it. An action sequence can be one or several, and which will change the tone, the speed of reading, the impression of the pace of events, it can help give a feel for what the characters are feeling. It can also make it both easier and harder to follow the flow of events!

Personally I find a paragraph tends to relate events like “everything is happening on top of each other” or sequentially, whereas separating events makes them discrete, or at least feel that way, but it’s very much a stylistic choice. Sentences can also be the same - run on sentences vs shorter sentences vs paragraphing can be very evocative!

So like, you can play with formatting - writing is art not science - but for the love of god please use it.

okay, genuinely curious (and please feel free to expand in the tags)

[hoshifighting]

Hiiii !! First of all tysm for all the fics you’ve put out! I honestly don’t know how you write them so fast 😭 secondly, I’ve been thinking about this so much so when I saw your requests were open again I got so excited to see if you had any opinions! How do you think the Svt members would react if you told them to say “please”/ ask nicely before they could cum?

I know you have so many requests coming in so I hope you’re taking care of yourself and having fun writing these!

svt reaction to you telling them to say “please”/ask nicely before they could cum

WARNINGS: smut, begging, svt desperate to cum ❤️🩹🗣

seungcheol: his pride is imediatelly gone and its almost funny. he’s groaning “please, please, I’ll do anything, baby, just let me cum.” gripping the sheets, thrusting up into your hand, so fucking close that he’s almost whining. if you tease him a little more, he’ll actually beg louder “fuck, I’m begging you—please let me.”

jeonghan: at first, he’s trying to smirk through it, pretending he’s unaffected: “oh, you think I’ll beg for you?” (he will). the minute you slow down or stop, he’s groaning and grinding against you like, “fine, fuck, please—please let me cum, baby.”

joshua: he wants to keep his composure, but his body’s backstabbing him. he’s thrusting into your hand, breathing hard through his nose, trying to hold back, until he’s finally gasping “fine, fine, please, I’ll beg if that’s what you want—just let me cum.”

jun: he’s squirming like crazy, trying to resist. but you can see the moment he breaks—his whole body’s trembling, and he finally whispers “please, baby, I need it—please.”

hoshi: instant panic. he’s gasping out, “please, I’ll be so good, I’ll do anything you want—just let me.” he’s holding onto you for dear life, all wide-eyed and desperate. if you don’t let him right away, he’ll legit cry, moaning your name in between pleases like he’s praying to you.

wonwoo: the silent sufferer. he’s biting his lip so hard it might bleed, glaring at you like he’s daring you to make him beg. but when you edge him for the third time, his voice cracks “fuck, please—please just let me finish.”

woozi: this man is STUBBORN. at first, he’s glaring at you, biting his lip like he can hold out forever. but when you keep teasing him, he’s growling under his breath “haah—! fuck, okay—please, just let me finish, I can’t take it anymore.”

minghao: you’re testing his patience, and he hates losing. he’s shaking his head at first, lips tight, but when you keep teasing him, he’s hissing “you’re so cruel. fine—please, just let me cum.”

soekmin: likes it when you’re mean to him. he’s smiling through his whines, “please, baby, I know you wanna hear me beg—just let me cum, I’ll be so good for you.” if you keep teasing him, he’s GIGGLING because he lowkey loves it.

mingyu: he’s too whipped for you to pretend he wouldn’t enjoy being edged and begging for permission. he’d say please a hundred times if it meant you’d let him finish.

seungkwan: this man can talk, and it’s all spilling out at once. “please, I’m begging, I’ll be so good—fuck, I’ll never do anything to piss you off again, I promise, just let me cum, PLEASE.” he’s pulling out all the stops, saying whatever he thinks will convince you. 10/10, most affected.

vernon: he’s so conflicted. you can see the internal battle written all over his face. he starts off quiet, breathing hard, refusing to speak—until you slow down and he panics “wait, wait, okay—please, I’ll say whatever you want, just don’t stop.”

chan: his pride lasts for like… ten seconds. he’s trying to play it cool, but when he feels you tighten or slow down, he’s crying. bonus: if you’re extra mean, he’ll choke out an apology for being so stubborn.

[quesocheeso]

What would you say is your biggest piece of advice when making a comic?

..asking for a *cough* friend-

Make a story where you are the main audience

Sure getting nice comments from people who are excited to see your updates or discussing what happens next is nice and all but your #1 fan should be yourself above anyone else. Write what you want to write not what others suggest you do or believe is the right way.

Don’t be discouraged by people who think you’re writing something wrong, that’s their opinion and if they think you’re wrong they should go out and make their own story, free will and creativity are free it only takes determination to create something of your own.

And finally, it doesn’t matter what skill level you are at, storytelling is its own art form, just having the will to make something is amazing on its own, it’s your own little world that no one else is privy to, create for it and no matter what people will be able to see how much you care for it and will get invested in it, and even if they don’t it is still something of your own and you should cherish it, it is a small part of your heart after all.

It’s because I’m creating for myself that I’m able to pump out so much art for this AU, because I want to see what happens next, I want to evolve this little world of my own, and even if I had no one else who liked this AU I would still create for it.

You have to love what you are doing.

(Also rest when you get bored of the comic, it happens, it will happen. And if the time ever comes when you can’t keep writing for it, then stop, like I said you are your main audience, and if you’re not having fun with the comic anymore then it is time to rest and maybe even move on to something else. It happens, never feel bad about it, just keep on moving to the next fun thing👍.

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt.16

Word Count: 30k...

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, pet names like kitten, sweetie, honey, threats with a gun, tw for birth, bodily fluids (although kept vauge i felt i should add a tw anyways), mentions of blood, tw for labor

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh @eliasxchocolate @nozomiaj @xmiisuki @sylus-kitten @its-regretti @ve1vet-cake @letgobro @starkeysslvt @yarafic @prince-nikko @connorsui @iluvmewwwww75 @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer @someone-somewheres-stuff @zaynesjasmine1 @honnylemontea @altariasu @sorryimakira @pearlymel @emidpsandia @angel-jupiter @hwangintakswifey @webmvie @housesortinghat @shoruio @gojos1ut @solomonlover @mysssticc @elegantnightblaze @mavphorias @babylavendersblog @burntoutfrogacademic @sinstae @certainduckanchor @ladyackermanisdead @sh4nn @milkandstarlight @lilyadora @nyumin @kiwookse @anisha24-blog1 @weepingluminarytale @riamir @definitionistato @xxhayashixx @adraxsteia @hargun-s @cayraeley @xxfaithlynxx @palomanh @spaceace111 @euridan

AN: This is on A03! This chapter was a doozy to write. And its 30k... thats what took so long! Also there is a birth scene (it’s not that graphic but still, be warned!) Reminder that the baby nor reader/mc have specific skintones. Imagine them how'd you like. Enjoy :3

“No,” you said coldly, refusing to let yourself fall for it. “If you really cared, you’d leave me alone.”

Sylus didn’t respond immediately, but you could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the line, a subtle reminder that he was still there—still looming over your life, even from miles away.

“I can’t do that,” he said after a long pause, his voice filled with quiet determination. “You’re mine, kitten. I’ll always come for you.”

See my masterlist for the previous parts!

Sylus strode up the sleek metal stairs of his private jet, the soles of his polished shoes clicking sharply against the aluminum. The faint hum of the engines warming up filled the quiet night, blending with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shoreline. He checked his watch—a sharp, precise movement—his expression impassive as the glowing hands ticked forward.

Seven hours and fifty-four minutes to Goldwood City.

Time was precious, and Sylus despised wasting it. Yet, here he was, boarding a plane and leaving you behind when you needed him most. The thought soured his mood, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He didn’t like the idea of being away from you, not when the birth was so close, not when your body was bearing the weight of his daughter. But he wouldn’t be gone long. He’d make damn sure of it.

This mission wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity.

He took his seat near the front of the cabin, the plush leather chair creaking softly as he leaned back, his mind already dissecting the details of the plan. The tablet resting on the table before him blinked to life with a touch of his finger, casting a pale glow over his sharp features. Names, faces, locations—an entire network of filth sprawled across the screen, anchored by one name: Vincent Morrell.

The bastard responsible for commissioning the organ trafficking ring that had nearly ruined you. He had enlisted a woman named Serene Grey, a shadowy figure known for her ruthless efficiency, to abduct countless women in a desperate attempt to find a suitable match for his dying wife. The thought of Vincent Morrell’s cold calculations—treating the love of his life as no more than just a commodity to spare one, only deepened Sylus’s resolve.

The memory flickered across his mind, unbidden but vivid. The look in your eyes when he’d finally found you, the nightmares that haunted your head. You didn’t talk about it much anymore, but you didn’t have to. Sylus knew every scar, every broken fragment of what they’d done. He’d already erased Reese from existence for daring to touch you, and now he had the chance to do the same to Reese’s father.

The thought brought a flicker of satisfaction to his cold, calculated mind. Reese had been weak, arrogant, relying on drugs to keep his life afloat. But Vincent? He was the head of the snake, the architect of the operation that had dared to mark what belonged to Sylus.

And now, Vincent Morrell had become a loose thread—one Sylus intended to cut.

Sylus adjusted the cufflinks on his sleeves, the small, engraved pieces of jewelry glinting faintly under the cabin lights. His gaze drifted toward the window as the jet’s engines roared to life, the faint vibration coursing through the cabin a welcome reminder of progress.

“Goldwood City in seven hours and thirty five minutes, sir” the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom.

Sylus didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as his mind shifted to the finer points of his plan. Vincent’s desperation to save his dying wife had made him sloppy, careless. The man had taken the bait without a second thought—a whispered rumor of a rare, illegal protocore capable of miraculous healing. Sylus had dangled it just close enough to whet his appetite, and Vincent had all but begged for the meeting.

How easy. Sylus was no fool when it came to the complexities of human emotions. A man’s heart, no matter how guarded, became his greatest vulnerability when tied to a woman he cherished. The desperation, the raw, unbridled need to protect, could unravel even the most calculated minds. It made them predictable, reckless. Vincent Morrell was no exception—his wife’s life dangled in the balance, and that fragile thread had become a noose Sylus was all too willing to tighten.

A grim smile tugged at Sylus’s lips. Vincent probably thought he was walking into a business negotiation. A trade. He didn’t realize it would be his last mistake.

Leaning back in his seat, Sylus closed his eyes for a moment, letting the hum of the engines drown out the weight of his thoughts. He didn’t allow himself to linger on the fact that you were miles away, in a house guarded by men who could never care for you the way he did. He wouldn’t allow doubt to creep into his mind.

This wasn’t just revenge—it was a message. A warning to anyone who thought they could take what belonged to him.

When he opened his eyes again, the gleam in them was as sharp as a blade. Goldwood City awaited, and so did Vincent Morrell.

Sylus would make this quick.

The flight goes mostly uneventful. The interior of the jet exuded quiet luxury—plush leather seats arranged in a spacious layout, polished mahogany accents gleaming under the soft, amber glow of the dimmed cabin lights. Outside, the vast expanse of the night sky stretched endlessly in every direction, a sea of velvety black dotted with distant stars that glinted like shards of ice against the darkness.

It was the kind of serene atmosphere designed for peaceful reflection, but Sylus’s mind was far from tranquil. Each passing minute seemed to remind him of what he was leaving behind and what lay ahead. The soft vibration of the engines beneath his feet only heightened the restless energy coursing through him, his thoughts flitting between the present mission and the future he had long envisioned. It was a perfect setting for quiet contemplation, yet Sylus’s mind was anything but still.

He pulled out his phone periodically, messaging Luke and Kieran to check on your condition. His lips curled into a faint smirk when Luke responded with an update: you were pouty and visibly agitated. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest. You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, your discomfort likely growing by the hour. He could picture you pacing around the house, arms crossed, grumbling under your breath with that familiar fiery expression. The mental image brought a quiet chuckle to his chest. Even when irritated, you had a way of commanding his attention completely.

He typed out swift instructions in response, his tone precise and commanding: ensure she’s eating regularly, make certain she has everything she needs, and cater to her every whim. He didn’t care if you requested a specific dish at midnight or demanded a walk in the cold evening air—your desires were to be met without question. Satisfied, he shut off his phone and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes against the faint cabin light.

For a fleeting moment, the surreal weight of it all washed over him. In just a few short weeks, he would hold his daughter in his arms—a child he’d dreamed of for longer than he cared to admit. A baby girl. He had spent countless nights obsessing over what she would be like, what she would look like. Would she inherit your sharp wit or his piercing gaze? Would she be quiet and observant, or would she cry easily, her temperament as demanding as her mother’s? The thought brought a flicker of amusement to his lips.

It all felt strangely distant yet inevitable. His life had always been about control, about taking what he wanted and bending the world to his will. But this…this was different. This was something he couldn’t entirely predict, and despite the unfamiliarity of it, he welcomed the unknown. For once, the future didn’t seem like a puzzle to solve but a gift waiting to be unwrapped.

His musings were interrupted by a sharp, irritated caw from the corner of the plane. Sylus’s crimson eyes snapped open, narrowing slightly as he spotted Mephisto fluttering toward him. The crow's movements were awkward and agitated, its wings flapping with clear irritation.

“You’re the one who insisted on resting your wings,” Sylus said, his voice low and clipped, tinged with faint amusement. “Don’t complain about the consequences now.”

Mephisto let out another disgruntled caw, hopping onto the armrest beside him and fluffing his feathers indignantly. The bird’s beady eyes glinted with irritation, as though it fully understood the jab. Sylus rolled his eyes, signaling to the attendant stationed discreetly at the far end of the jet. The man, clad in an immaculately pressed uniform, stepped forward with practiced precision, his expression neutral and composed.

“One glass of Gin Fizz,” Sylus ordered, his tone as sharp as a blade. “Very little ice.”

The man gave a polite nod, disappearing into the small galley without a word. Sylus turned his attention back to the crow, his fingers brushing idly against the edge of the leather armrest. "We'll be there soon. Then you can fly as far as you'd like," he muttered, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as Mephisto tilted his head, unrepentant. The bird let out a soft croak in response, seemingly satisfied with the acknowledgment.

Sylus leaned back once more, his gaze drifting toward the window. The world outside was vast and indifferent, a stark contrast to the tightly wound control he maintained over his life. But even now, as the jet sped toward Goldwood City and the mission awaiting him, his thoughts remained tethered to you and the tiny life growing within you.

"Just a little longer," he murmured to himself, closing his eyes once again. "Then everything will be as it should."

Sylus’s jet touched down smoothly on the private runway, the whir of the engines gradually fading into silence as the aircraft taxied to a halt. Outside, the city of Goldwood stretched out beneath the dawn sky, its skyline gleaming with a mix of modern opulence and old-world grit. He descended the steps of the jet with practiced ease, the brisk air brushing against his face, sharp but invigorating. His long coat trailed slightly behind him as he made his way across the tarmac, each step deliberate and assured.

There was no need for the usual pomp or pretense here. The entire runway, and indeed the small airport itself, belonged to him—one of his many acquisitions over the years. His influence extended far beyond the city’s limits, a network of properties and safehouses woven into the very fabric of Goldwood’s underworld.

Rather than heading straight for a car, Sylus entered a discreet, private entrance that led into the lower levels of his hotel. The building loomed overhead, a towering structure of steel and glass, exuding both modern luxury and an air of impenetrable security. To the public, it was one of the city’s most prestigious hotels, a beacon of wealth and exclusivity. But to Sylus, it was much more—a carefully curated fortress where he could operate without interference.

Mephisto had long gone, no doubt stretching his wings across skyscrapers by now.

He bypassed the grand lobby, where polished marble floors gleamed under the glow of crystal chandeliers, and took a private elevator to the top floor. The ride up was smooth and silent, the soft hum of the elevator barely audible over the rhythmic beating of his heart. As the doors opened, he stepped into his personal suite, a sprawling expanse of minimalist elegance. The walls were adorned with abstract art, muted tones blending seamlessly with the sleek furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, but Sylus paid little attention to the glittering skyline.

With a wave of his hand, soft music began to play from the built-in sound system, the warm, crackling notes of an old jazz record filling the room. He moved toward a vintage record player perched on a low table, carefully adjusting the needle to let the next track begin. The sound enveloped the space, a calming yet deliberate backdrop to his thoughts.

As he settled into a high-backed leather chair, a soft knock sounded at the door. "Enter," Sylus said without turning, his voice steady and commanding. A moment later, the door opened to reveal his personal chef, carrying a silver tray laden with a carefully prepared meal. The scent of freshly seared steak and roasted vegetables wafted into the room, mingling pleasantly with the faint aroma of leather and polished wood.

The chef approached with measured steps, placing the tray on a nearby table before retreating with a respectful nod. "Your meal, sir," he said quietly before exiting the room, leaving Sylus alone once more.

Sylus took a moment to savor the aroma before picking up his fork and knife. The first bite was exquisite, the flavors rich and perfectly balanced—a testament to the chef’s skill. Yet, as delicious as the meal was, his mind remained focused on the task ahead.

He didn’t have the protocore just yet. That was the true objective of being in the city so soon, tracking down the elusive artifact before his scheduled meeting with Vincent later in the week. The protocore, a rare and highly sought-after relic, was rumored to possess near-miraculous healing properties. For Vincent, whose wife’s life hung by a thread, it was the ultimate prize. For Sylus, it was the perfect bait.

Rumors had been circulating for weeks about the protocore’s appearance at an exclusive underground auction, a shadowy event known only to the wealthiest and most dangerous individuals in the network. Securing an invitation had been the easy part—now came the real challenge: ensuring he left that auction with the artifact in hand.

Tomorrow, the auction would commence, and there was no time to waste. Every move counted, and Sylus was nothing if not methodical. He allowed himself a brief moment of stillness, his crimson eyes narrowing as he contemplated the task ahead. Soon, very soon, he would have what he needed to finally end this chapter and protect what was his.

The night of the auction arrived, soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses filled the expansive auction hall, muted by the distance from where Sylus sat high above. The private balcony he occupied offered a perfect vantage point, granting him an unobstructed view of the opulent, dimly lit room below. People milled about in elegant attire, each of them donning elaborate masks that concealed their identities. Some wore animal-themed masks, others bore intricate designs of gold and silver filigree, but all carried an air of wealth and danger.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, half of his own face hidden beneath a golden bird mask that gleamed faintly in the low light. In one hand, he swirled a glass of deep red wine, the liquid catching the flicker of candlelight as it moved lazily within the crystal. His gaze drifted across the room, watching the masked attendees as they whispered, schemed, and observed.

The auction had gone on for what felt like hours. The auctioneer, an older man with a booming voice and a flair for the dramatic, called out item after item—rare weapons, ancient artifacts, paintings that were no doubt stolen from private collections or museums. Each time a new piece was wheeled onto the stage, Sylus’s interest waned further. He found the entire display predictable, even tiresome.

His thoughts began to wander, drifting away from the glittering scene below to something far more important—you. According to the twins, you had spent the day cooking together, a simple, domestic activity that brought a faint, almost imperceptible smile to his lips. The thought of you in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, laughter echoing softly as you prepared a meal, stirred something warm and possessive within him.

Still, the idea of you cooking with another man, even if it was one of the twins, irked him slightly. He knew Luke and Kieran had no ill intentions-they were loyal to him, and more importantly, they respected you. Yet, a part of him bristled at the thought. He had vowed to be better, to curb some his possessive instincts. This was part of that effort. He took a long sip of his wine, the taste rich and dark on his tongue, as he reminded himself of the promise he had made to you.

His musings were abruptly interrupted when a large platform was wheeled onto the stage, drawing murmurs of anticipation from the crowd below. Sylus’s eyes sharpened, his attention snapping back to the auction as the item he had been waiting for was finally revealed.

The protocore.

Suspended within a cylindrical glass chamber, it hovered weightlessly, its surface glowing with a faint, ethereal green light. The room seemed to hold its breath as the auctioneer stepped forward, gesturing dramatically toward the artifact.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer began, his voice echoing through the hall, “behold the Emerald Protocore! One of the rarest and most sought-after cores in existence. With rumored restorative properties that surpass even the most advanced medical technology, this protocore is said to heal injuries, extend life, and grant vitality to its bearer.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, the gleam of the floating artifact reflected in his crimson gaze. The anticipation in the room was palpable, tension hanging thick in the air as the auctioneer announced the starting bid.

“We begin at five billion,” the auctioneer declared. “Do I hear five billion?”

A hand shot up immediately from the crowd below. “Five billion,” the auctioneer acknowledged, his tone gleeful. “Six billion! Do I hear six?”

Sylus’s lips curled into a faint smirk as the bidding began in earnest. Hands rose rapidly, voices calling out higher and higher numbers. The price climbed steadily—seven billion, nine billion, twelve billion. The competition was fierce, as expected. Only the wealthiest and most powerful individuals in the world had been invited to this auction, and it was clear they intended to fight for the prize.

“We have fifteen billion! Going once, going twice—”

“Seventeen billion,” a masked bidder called out, his voice calm but firm.

Sylus waited, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his wine glass. He had no intention of jumping in too soon. This was a game of strategy, and he always played to win. The numbers continued to climb, the atmosphere growing tenser with each new bid.

“Twenty billion! Do I hear twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six billion,” Sylus finally tapped the screen in front of him, his bid appearing in bold digits on the display above the stage.

The room went quiet for a brief moment, all eyes turning toward the private balcony where Sylus sat. He didn’t react, merely raising his glass slightly as if in silent acknowledgment.

“Twenty-six billion!” the auctioneer cried, his voice rising with excitement. “An impressive bid! Do we have a counter?”

“Thirty billion,” another voice called out from below.

Sylus’s smirk deepened. Good. He enjoyed a challenge. Without hesitation, he tapped the screen again.

“Thirty-five billion.”

The back-and-forth continued, each bid coming faster than the last. Thirty-seven billion. Forty billion. Forty-five. The tension in the room was electric, the air thick with anticipation. Sylus remained composed, his demeanor cool and unshaken as the numbers soared higher.

“Fifty billion” he entered with finality, the bold digits flashing across the screen. The room fell into a hushed silence, the weight of the staggering number settling over the crowd. No one moved, no one spoke.

The auctioneer paused, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of a counter. When none came, he raised his gavel high.

“Fifty billion, going once…going twice…sold! To the gentleman in the golden mask!”

A polite round of applause broke out below, but Sylus paid it no mind. His eyes remained fixed on the protocore as it was carefully wheeled offstage, his mind already calculating his next move. The artifact was his. All that remained was ensuring it reached his hands safely.

He took one last sip of his wine, savoring the moment. The hunt had been successful, but the game was far from over.

“Prepare the transport,” he said quietly into his communicator. “I want eyes on every entrance. Nothing leaves this building without my approval.”

The night was still young, and Sylus knew better than to lower his guard just yet.

As the applause died down and the crowd dispersed into smaller clusters of murmuring onlookers, Sylus descended from his private balcony, his steps measured and purposeful. The auction might have been over, but the real game was just beginning.

He moved through the crowd with ease, his golden bird mask catching the glint of chandeliers overhead. Several masked figures approached him, eager to exchange pleasantries—or perhaps gather information. Among them was a man dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, his mask crafted to resemble a snarling wolf, gleaming silver in the dim light.

“Congratulations, Sylus,” the man said, his voice smooth but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Fifty billion is a steep price, even for someone with your…reputation.”

Sylus’s lips curled into a faint smile beneath his mask. “A steep price for some. A calculated investment for others,” he replied, his tone calm, almost bored. He extended his hand, and the man took it without hesitation.

“All’s fair in the game of money, wouldn’t you say, Sylus?” the man continued, gripping Sylus’s hand firmly. His fingers tightened in an iron grip, an unmistakable attempt at intimidation. Sylus met the challenge without flinching, his expression unchanging as he returned the handshake with a force of his own.

The faint crack of bones was barely audible over the low hum of conversation around them, but Sylus felt it clearly—the subtle give of the man’s fingers beneath his unyielding grip. The man tensed, his body going rigid with pain, though he made no sound. His pride wouldn’t allow it. Instead, his eyes locked onto Sylus’s, silently begging for release.

Sylus chuckled softly, a low, dangerous sound that carried an air of amusement. “Indeed,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk. “All’s fair.”

He held the man’s hand for a moment longer, just enough to make his point clear, before finally letting go. The man took a step back, subtly flexing his injured fingers while maintaining a composed façade. Despite his silence, it was obvious to Sylus that he was rattled, his earlier bravado shattered.

“Good game,” Sylus added with a faint smirk, turning away without waiting for a response. The man said nothing, his pride keeping him rooted in place as Sylus walked off, victorious in more ways than one.

Some time had passed, and with still a day or two remaining before his scheduled meeting with Vincent, Sylus found himself meticulously inspecting the protocore once again. The artifact was undeniably genuine—its faint green glow pulsed steadily within its containment unit, casting an otherworldly light across the dimly lit room. Even Sylus, with his carefully tempered emotions, couldn’t ignore the subtle effect it had on him. There was something about its presence that made the air feel lighter, more vibrant, as though it carried a hint of life itself.

Satisfied with his inspection, Sylus gave strict instructions to his men to keep the protocore under maximum security until the time came. No one, save for a select few, even knew where it was being stored. He wasn’t about to take any chances.

Now lounging in his private suite, Sylus swirled a glass of dark red wine in his hand, the rich aroma filling his senses. The distant hum of the city outside was barely audible through the reinforced glass windows. Despite the calm atmosphere, a familiar itch tugged at his mind—a restlessness born not of danger, but of curiosity. The kind of curiosity that gnawed at him whenever he thought of you. Were you resting properly? Were you being taken care of properly? These thoughts had a way of creeping in, no matter how focused he tried to remain on his mission.

He leaned forward slightly, the rim of the wine glass brushing against his lower lip as he stared into the swirling liquid. The weight of the moment settled over him, a rare stillness that only deepened his longing. Without further hesitation, he reached for his phone, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he dialed Luke’s number. The line barely rang twice before Luke answered, his voice cheerful and energetic.

"Yes, boss!" Luke said, sounding as though he had been expecting the call.

"Is she sleeping?" Sylus asked without preamble, wasting no time on idle chatter. He glanced at the clock—6 PM. It was around the usual time for your midday nap, a routine he had come to know well.

"No, she’s awake. She’s been complaining of, uh…Brax…ten? Hits?" Luke replied, stumbling over the unfamiliar words.

"Braxton Hicks," Sylus corrected smoothly, taking a measured sip of his wine. His lips quirked in mild amusement.

"Yeah, that! I’ll tell ya, boss, I’ve been so on edge lately. I thought I was gonna have to deliver a baby the other night..." Luke admitted nervously, his usual bravado replaced by genuine concern.

Sylus chuckled softly, a low, rich sound that conveyed both amusement and exasperation. These idiots…they meant well, even if they were woefully unprepared for such a scenario. Still, it reassured him that they were vigilant, keeping an eye on you as instructed.

"I assure you, delivering babies is not part of your job description," he said, his tone light yet authoritative. "Now, put her on. I want to speak to her."

"Right away, boss!" Luke said, his voice brightening again before the line went silent for a brief moment.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine once more as he waited. A faint smirk played at the edges of his lips, but beneath the outward calm was a subtle tension. He hadn’t heard your voice in days, and though he trusted his men, nothing could truly ease the restlessness that settled in his chest when he was away from you. The line clicked, and then—

"Hello?" your voice came through, slightly groggy but unmistakably yours.

A quiet relief washed over him at the sound. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to hear you until that moment. Even from miles away, your voice had a grounding effect on him, steadying the swirling thoughts in his mind. The weight on his shoulders eased slightly, as though the mere sound of you could pull him back from the edge of his constant vigilance.

"How are you feeling, honey?" Sylus asked, his voice softening in a way it rarely did with anyone else.

You sighed, the faint sound of shifting fabric accompanying your words. "Tired. These weird fake contractions are no joke. They keep waking me up."

You sounded so adorable when you complained. Sylus wasn’t sure what it was, but when you grumbled and whined to him, it made him feel an intense urge to fulfill your every need. To fix all of your problems. There was something strangely satisfying about hearing you vent to him, trusting him enough to share your frustrations.

"They’re normal," Sylus assured, his tone steady and calm. "Your body is preparing for the real thing. Just a little longer, and it will all be over."

"Easy for you to say," you muttered, a hint of irritation in your voice. "You’re not the one carrying around a bowling ball."

Sylus chuckled again, the sound genuine this time. "Fair point. Still, you should rest as much as possible. If anything feels unusual, you’ll let the twins know immediately."

"Yeah, yeah," you replied, the tiredness in your voice evident, but you at least seemed to be a little more at ease. He silently wondered…did you miss him as much as he missed you? You had said that you don't love him, that it was a lie. But you also said you didn’t hate him either…that you didn’t know how to feel sometimes. What could he do to change that?

Still, he didn’t dare ask the question for fear of the answer. Some things were better left unspoken, at least for now.

For a moment, Sylus said nothing, simply listening to the sound of your breathing on the other end. That simple, quiet connection was enough to ease the knot of tension that had formed in his chest over the past few days. He found himself savoring it, reluctant to let the moment end.

"Good," he finally said, pausing briefly before adding in a softer tone, "You’re doing well. I’ll be back soon."

"How soon is…soon?" you murmured, your voice trailing off slightly. "It’s been a lot."

He felt a sharp pang in his heart at your words, the weight of them sinking deep into his chest. You sounded undeniably drained, your voice carrying a fatigue he couldn’t ignore. Did you actually long for him like he did you? The thought gnawed at him, stirring something both tender and painful. Guilt began to creep in, a cold, unwelcome presence that made him silently curse himself for even entertaining the idea of leaving you alone in the first place. He had told himself this mission was necessary—that it was about securing a safer future for you and the child you carried—but now, in the silence that followed your words, he questioned whether his absence was worth the toll it seemed to be taking on you.

Yet, he couldn’t allow doubt to derail him. This had to be done. The thought of ridding the pests of your past—the ones who had dared to hurt you—was too tempting, too important to abandon. If he could eliminate the lingering shadows that haunted your life, perhaps you could finally find some semblance of peace. And that, more than anything, was what drove him forward.

"I know sweetie" he said quietly. His voice carried a gentleness, as though he wished he could bridge the distance between you with words alone. "I’m just wrapping up some stuff here, and I’ll be back before you know it."

There was a small silence from you for a few short moments, as if you wanted to say something more. He waited patiently, despite his growing anticipation.

"Alright then, I’m going to take a nap. See you later," you said, your voice soft but tired, as though every word carried the weight of the past few days. There was a pause, a faint rustling on your end, before the sound of the phone being handed over to Luke became clear.

He sighed. Of course, with everything going on, there was still much work to close the distance between you two. He shouldn't have expected otherwise.

"Talk to ya later, boss!" Luke said brightly, his tone attempting to mask the tension from earlier. Sylus could hear the faint sound of your footsteps retreating in the background, likely heading off to finally get some rest.

With that, the call ended, and Sylus placed the phone back on the table. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and let out a slow exhale. The faint smile lingered on his lips for a moment, but it didn’t entirely banish the weight of concern that remained. There was still much to be done, but for now, the sound of your voice was enough. Soon, very soon, he would be back where he belonged—with you, and with the life he was determined to protect.

The wine sat forgotten beside him as he leaned back in his chair once more, his thoughts already drifting to what lay ahead. No matter what obstacles remained, he would see this through. Because in the end, nothing mattered more than you, and the family he was building.

Sylus arrived at Vincent’s private estate as afternoon fully claimed the sky, casting a veil of orange light over the sprawling property. The grand gates opened with a mechanical hum, revealing a long driveway flanked by perfectly manicured gardens. The estate itself loomed ahead, its tall windows glowing with soft, golden light. Despite the inviting atmosphere, Sylus remained on guard. Every movement here was calculated, just like the man he was about to meet.

As the car came to a halt, Sylus adjusted his cuffs and stepped out, his eyes briefly scanning the area before following the butler waiting to escort him inside. Sylus walked through the grand hallway of Vincent’s estate, the soft glow of antique lamps casting long shadows over the dark wood paneling. Every corner was meticulously curated—gold-framed portraits of Vincent’s family lined the walls, each one exuding an air of wealth and status. Sylus’s eyes flicked over the paintings as he followed the butler toward the study. One, in particular, caught his attention: a portrait of a child, with striking features and messy hair.

Ah. This must be Reese as a young boy.

Sylus allowed himself a brief smirk. Vincent had taken great care to display these portraits prominently, as though to remind every visitor of his family’s legacy. But to Sylus, it only confirmed what he already knew: Vincent was a man desperately clinging to appearances. A man whose carefully constructed façade masked the rot beneath.

Interesting.

The butler leading him stopped at the entrance to a grand study, opening the door with a slight bow. Sylus stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the room with practiced ease. The crackling fire cast long shadows over the dark oak bookshelves that lined the walls, their shelves packed with leather-bound volumes that looked more decorative than well-read. A crystal decanter glinted on the side table, half-filled with amber liquid, while the faint scent of burning wood added a comforting warmth to the space.

Vincent turned from the fireplace as Sylus entered, a practiced smile already in place. “Sylus,” he greeted warmly, spreading his arms in a gesture of welcome. “Glad you could make it.”

Sylus returned the smile with one of his own, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Please, sit,” Vincent said, gesturing toward a pair of leather armchairs near the hearth. “Can I pour you something?”

Sylus inclined his head slightly, lowering himself into the nearest chair with deliberate grace. He rested one arm on the chair’s polished armrest, his fingers tapping lightly against the leather. “Wine will do.”

Vincent poured two glasses, handing one to Sylus before settling into the chair opposite him. He raised his glass in a casual toast. “To new ventures.”

Sylus clinked his glass lightly against Vincent’s but didn’t drink. Instead, he swirled the deep red liquid, watching how it clung to the sides of the glass. His mind was already working, piecing together what little information he’d gleaned so far. The portraits in the hallway had been deliberate, a carefully curated display meant to project an image of familial pride. But something about it felt off. Reese’s face had been too prominent, his image too recent. Sylus suspected that Vincent wasn’t displaying a legacy—he was mourning a loss.

“I couldn’t help but notice the portraits in the hall,” Sylus said casually, breaking the silence. “Your son?”

Vincent’s expression flickered briefly before he nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Yes, my son Reese. He was a good boy once. Smart, driven. But…” He trailed off, his gaze growing distant. “Things change. He got caught up with the wrong crowd—drugs, bad influences. You try to guide them, but at some point, they make their own choices.”

Sylus tilted his head slightly, feigning a thoughtful expression. “That must be difficult. Watching someone you love spiral like that.”

“It is,” Vincent admitted, setting his glass down on the small table beside him. “It’s been hardest on my wife. She worried herself sick over him. And now he's gone.”

Sylus noted the way Vincent’s jaw tightened ever so slightly at the mention of his wife. There was something guarded in his tone, a subtle hesitation that didn’t escape Sylus’s attention. He stored the detail away for later use.

“I suppose I’ll be finding out what that’s like soon enough,” Sylus said after a pause, his voice light but deliberate.

Vincent arched a brow, clearly intrigued. “Oh?”

Sylus allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. “I’m expecting a child of my own very soon. A daughter.”

For a moment, Vincent’s expression softened, genuine emotion flickering in his eyes. He chuckled, lifting his glass in a half-toast. “A daughter, huh? You’re a lucky man. I always wished I’d had a daughter. Would’ve given her the world.”

Sylus filed that comment away, noting the wistfulness in Vincent’s tone. He wondered, briefly, if Vincent’s regret stemmed from something deeper—some failure he hadn’t yet admitted to himself. But he didn’t press the issue.

“Perhaps things would’ve been different,” Sylus mused aloud, his tone carefully neutral.

Vincent gave a slight nod but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he took another sip of his wine, as though retreating into his thoughts.

Sylus allowed the silence to stretch for a moment before steering the conversation back. “Stress like that must be hard on your wife,” he said, his voice carrying just the right note of concern. “I imagine it’s taken a toll.”

Vincent’s eyes darkened, and Sylus caught the brief flicker of something—guilt, perhaps?—before the man spoke. “It has. She’s battling cancer. The doctors say she needs a new kidney and liver if she’s going to have any real chance of survival. That’s why this deal is so important to me. I need her to live.”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine once more. He didn’t respond immediately, letting the weight of Vincent’s words hang in the air. There was something off about the way Vincent spoke—his tone was too measured, too practiced. Before Sylus could probe further, a sudden knock at the door broke the moment.

“We're busy, come back later” Vincent called, his irritation barely concealed.

The door suddenly swung opened to reveal an older blonde woman with sharp features and blazing eyes. She stormed into the room with an air of indignation, her hands clenched at her sides.

“Vincent, you said you’d only be a few minutes!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

Vincent’s composure cracked, irritation flaring across his face. “I told you not to come in while I’m conducting business.”

“That’s no way to talk to your wife!” she screamed before turning on her heel and storming out, slamming the door behind her.

Sylus’s eyes followed her retreating figure, his expression carefully neutral. But inwardly, unease prickled at the edges of his mind. That woman didn’t look sick. There were no signs of frailty, no visible indication of someone battling a life-threatening illness. Yet Vincent had just spoken at length about his wife’s dire condition.

Something wasn’t adding up.

Vincent sighed heavily, rubbing his temples before turning back to Sylus. The firelight cast long shadows across his face, accentuating the weariness in his expression. “Apologies for that,” he muttered. “Emotions run high in these circumstances.”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, resting his glass of untouched wine on the armrest. He didn’t speak, choosing instead to observe Vincent in silence. His sharp crimson eyes flicked to the door where the woman had stormed out, her angry words still hanging in the air like an echo.

"That’s no way to talk to your wife!".

The pieces didn’t fit. The woman who had just left was far from the image of someone fighting for their life. Her complexion had been healthy, her stride strong. There had been no trace of sickness in her voice or demeanor. Yet Vincent had painted a picture of a wife on the brink of death, clinging to hope by a thread.

Sylus’s instincts prickled with suspicion. Something was off, and he had a sinking feeling he already knew what it was.

“Look,” Vincent said, exhaling slowly as though bracing himself for judgment. “Man to man…I know what you must be thinking. I’ll explain.”

Sylus arched a brow, gesturing slightly with his free hand as if to say, Go on. He maintained an air of polite curiosity, though inwardly, his mind was already racing, calculating the implications of what he was about to hear.

“It’s not my wife who’s sick,” Vincent admitted, his voice low and strained. He reached for his glass, taking a long sip before continuing. “It’s…my mistress. She’s the one with cancer.”

There it was.

Sylus didn’t react outwardly, keeping his expression neutral. But beneath the surface, a flicker of disgust stirred in his chest. He wasn’t shocked—he’d dealt with men like Vincent before, men who cloaked their deceit in noble intentions. But hearing it spoken aloud, seeing the casual way Vincent justified his betrayal, made Sylus’s disdain sharpen.

“I know how it sounds,” Vincent continued quickly, as though trying to preempt any criticism. “Cheating is wrong, yes, but…I love her. I can’t watch her die. My wife—she doesn’t know. And I intend to keep it that way.”

Sylus leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest as he steepled his fingers. His crimson eyes locked onto Vincent’s with an intensity that made the older man shift slightly in his seat.

“How long has this…arrangement been going on?” Sylus asked, his voice smooth but carrying a subtle edge.

“Five years,” Vincent admitted, his tone defensive. “I never intended for it to get this complicated, but things happened. Life happened. I love them both, but I can’t lose her—not like this.”

Sylus remained silent, letting Vincent’s words hang in the air. The fire crackled softly in the background, filling the void as the tension between them grew thicker. He could see the desperation in Vincent’s eyes, the way his hands gripped the glass a little too tightly, as though holding onto it would keep everything from falling apart.

“I see,” Sylus said at last, his tone measured. “It’s…a difficult situation.”

Vincent exhaled in relief, clearly mistaking Sylus’s neutrality for understanding. “Exactly. You do what you have to, right? That’s why this deal means so much to me. I need the protocore. It’s her only chance.”

Sylus swirled the wine in his glass, watching the dark liquid slosh against the sides. He didn’t drink. He never intended to. The game Vincent was playing was clear now—a game of betrayal, fueled by misplaced loyalty and selfishness. Sylus had no sympathy for men like him, but he knew better than to show his hand too soon.

“Of course,” Sylus said smoothly, lifting his glass in a silent toast before setting it down untouched. “You’re doing what you believe is necessary. I can respect that.”

Vincent relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. He poured himself another glass, clearly emboldened by what he perceived as Sylus’s agreement.

But Sylus wasn’t done yet.

“Though,” he said after a moment, his tone casual but pointed, “I imagine it must be difficult keeping something like this hidden. Secrets have a way of…unraveling.”

Vincent’s hand stilled briefly before he resumed pouring, the faintest hint of unease flickering across his face. “I’ve managed so far,” he said, his tone a little too brisk. “She doesn't suspect a thing.”

Sylus offered a faint smile, leaning back in his chair once more. “I'm sure she doesn't.”

Luck. Sylus didn’t believe in it. Men like Vincent relied on luck, on the hope that their lies would remain undiscovered, that they could continue juggling their fragile lives without consequence. But luck always ran out.

For now, Sylus played along, letting Vincent bask in the illusion of control. But as he watched the man across from him, he couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of contempt. Vincent claimed to love both women, yet his actions spoke of cowardice and selfishness. He was no better than the men Sylus had crushed underfoot in the past—men who believed they could cheat fate with charm and wealth.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he observed Vincent closely. The older man’s initial air of confidence had begun to waver, subtle cracks appearing in his polished façade. It was almost amusing—how quickly a man could shift from composed to cornered when the right pressure was applied.

“You’ve always been good at balancing appearances, Vincent,” Sylus said, his voice calm, almost conversational. “A loving husband. A grieving father. And yet, behind it all…someone willing to trade women for profit.”

Vincent’s glass paused mid-air, the amber liquid inside trembling slightly. He forced a tight smile, setting the glass down with a faint clink. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Sylus.”

Sylus’s eyes gleamed in the firelight, a dangerous glint flickering in their crimson depths. He leaned forward slightly, his tone still smooth but carrying a razor-sharp edge. “I wonder…how would your wife react if she knew the real reason you’ve been so…preoccupied? Not just with your mistress, but with the blood you’ve spilled to keep her alive.”

Vincent’s expression hardened. “Careful,” he warned, his voice low. “You’re crossing a line.”

Sylus didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk widened, a predator toying with its prey. “Oh, I haven’t crossed anything yet. I’m merely stating the obvious. Reese got in over his head, didn’t he? He didn’t just ‘fall in with the wrong crowd.’ He was the wrong crowd.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant crackle of the fire. Vincent’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white against the leather armrests. There was no more room for pretense—Sylus had laid the truth bare, and Vincent knew it.

Still, Sylus wasn’t done. He leaned back again, exuding a sense of calm control that only heightened the tension in the room. “It must’ve been difficult,” he mused aloud. “Keeping that kind of operation hidden for so long. Juggling the demands of your little empire while ensuring no one pulled at the wrong thread.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sylus chuckled softly, the sound devoid of humor. “Don’t I? I’ve seen men like you before, Vincent. Desperate men. Men who cling to power, thinking they can cheat fate. But fate, you see…” He tapped the rim of his wine glass with a finger, the faint ping echoing ominously. “Fate has a way of catching up with you. Secrets—they don’t just unravel. They unravel you. And once the first thread is pulled…” He let the sentence hang, the implication clear.

Vincent’s breathing had grown heavier, his composure slipping further with every word. He was no longer the confident businessman who had welcomed Sylus into his home. He was a man standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down into the abyss.

“What do you want?” Vincent finally asked, his voice strained.

Sylus’s smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. “Simple. You’ll give me exactly what I came here for. No games. No double-crosses. And in return…” He let the silence linger for a moment, watching as Vincent hung on his every word. “I won’t pull that first thread.”

Vincent visibly paled, the color draining from his face as Sylus’s words sank in, each one landing like a deliberate blow. His fingers twitched against the armrests of his chair, his grip tightening momentarily before he forced himself to relax. The air in the room seemed to shift, thickening with unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, masking the tremor in his voice as he struggled to maintain some semblance of composure.

“Well?” Vincent said, his voice strained and tight, each word sounding as though it had to be dragged from his throat. “Spit it out, then. What did you really come here for? And…what do you mean Reese was?”

Sylus tilted his head slightly, crimson eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable. The firelight cast long shadows across his sharp features, accentuating the cold detachment in his expression. He leaned back in the chair, steepling his fingers as though contemplating how much to reveal. For a long, excruciating moment, the only sounds in the room were the faint crackle of the fire and the steady ticking of the ornate clock on the mantel. Sylus let the silence stretch, knowing full well that it would gnaw at Vincent’s fraying nerves.

Finally, he spoke, his tone casual but laced with menace. “The woman you’ve been commissioning to steal those girls—Serene Grey. Where is she?”

Vincent blinked, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt shift in topic. His brows furrowed in confusion as he processed the name. “Serene…?” he repeated slowly, as though the mere mention of her brought with it an uncomfortable weight. Sylus didn’t miss the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, nor the way his fingers tightened around the armrest once more.

“She’s a slippery little thing,” Sylus continued, his voice as smooth as silk, every word carefully measured. “Been evading my sights for a while now. But that ends today.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Vincent’s. “You’re going to tell me exactly where she is.”

Vincent’s expression hardened, his mouth drawing into a thin line as he squared his shoulders. “And what makes you think I know where she is?”

Sylus gave a low, mirthless chuckle, the sound devoid of humor but rich with something far more unsettling. He leaned forward further, the predatory gleam in his eyes growing sharper. “Come now, Vincent. You’ve been playing this game long enough to know how it works. You commission someone like Serene Grey for these organs, and you keep tabs on her to make sure she doesn’t turn on you. Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise.”

Vincent opened his mouth, perhaps to deny the accusation, but Sylus raised a hand, halting him before he could speak. There was no point in entertaining false protests. Sylus wasn’t here to negotiate—he was here to extract the truth.

“And as for your son…” Sylus said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, each word delivered with deliberate precision. “Not sure if you’re aware, but he was supplying these women to Serene. For crack, of all things. Small world huh?”

Vincent’s face twisted, a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and mounting rage flickering across his features. Sylus let the moment hang, savoring the weight of his revelation before continuing.

“One of those women,” Sylus said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur, “just so happened to be the mother of my child.”

The room fell deathly silent. Vincent’s eyes widened, and for a split second, a flicker of something close to panic crossed his face. But before he could form a response, Sylus leaned back again, a wicked grin spreading across his face like the blade of a knife glinting in the firelight.

“And he…ultimately paid the price.”

The silence shattered as Vincent shot to his feet, his eyes blazing with fury. The fire behind him cast long shadows across the room, making his figure seem larger, more imposing. But Sylus remained utterly unfazed, his grin never wavering.

“You…bastard,” Vincent hissed through clenched teeth, every syllable dripping with venom. “So it was you who killed my son?”

Sylus didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as blink. Instead, he calmly lifted his glass of wine, swirling the liquid lazily as though Vincent’s outburst was nothing more than an amusing spectacle. “He left me no choice,” Sylus said smoothly, his voice devoid of remorse. “Actions have consequences, Vincent. Your son learned that the hard way.”

Vincent’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white with tension. For a moment, it looked as though he might lunge across the room, driven by sheer rage. But something stopped him—perhaps it was the icy calm in Sylus’s eyes, or the chilling realization that he was entirely outmatched.

“You cold-blooded—” Vincent began, but the words caught in his throat, strangled by the weight of his own fury.

Sylus tilted his head slightly, his grin fading into something colder, more calculating. “I understand this must be difficult for you,” he said, his tone mockingly sympathetic. “Losing a son is…tragic. But you should know better than anyone—business is business. Reese chose his path, and he paid for it.”

Vincent’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, every second stretching out like an eternity. His mind raced, torn between the burning desire for vengeance and the grim realization that Sylus held all the cards. Attacking him outright would be suicide, but letting him walk away after admitting to killing Reese? That felt impossible to stomach.

“You think you can walk in here, threaten me, and leave without consequence?” Vincent growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word laced with barely restrained fury.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Threaten you?” he repeated softly, his tone almost bored. “No, Vincent. I’m giving you a choice.” He leaned forward once more, his crimson eyes locking onto Vincent’s with an intensity that made the older man freeze. “Tell me where to find Serene Grey, and this ends here. No more blood. No more…unraveling secrets. I'll even be so gracious and help you save your dear mistress.”

Vincent’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes darting toward the door as though considering summoning his guards. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t matter. Sylus wasn’t a man who could be intimidated by force. He was smarter, faster, deadlier—and Vincent wasn’t willing to gamble on who would walk away if things turned violent.

“You’ll regret this,” Vincent said at last, his voice low and seething with barely concealed rage. “I’ll help you. But don’t think for a second that this means we’re done.”

Sylus inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the terms of the unspoken agreement. “Of course not,” he said smoothly. “We’re far from done. But for now…I’ll consider it a gesture of goodwill.”

Vincent’s hands still trembled slightly as he reached for the decanter, pouring himself another drink with far less precision than before. He downed the glass in one go, as though trying to steady his fraying nerves. Meanwhile, Sylus remained perfectly composed, watching him with the cold detachment of a man who had already won.

Vincent set his empty glass down with a sharp clink, the tension in his shoulders evident as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His expression was a mixture of begrudging acceptance and simmering resentment. Sylus’s unflappable calm only seemed to heighten his frustration, but he knew he had no choice—Sylus held the upper hand.

“She’s been operating out of a private estate about twenty miles outside the city,” Vincent said at last, his voice low and taut. “You’ll find her there. She keeps her movements quiet, doesn’t stay in one place for long, but I’ve…kept tabs on her.”

Sylus arched a brow, the faintest flicker of approval crossing his features. “Efficient,” he murmured, though his tone carried a hint of condescension. “I assume you’ve spared no expense in ensuring she doesn’t slip away from you?”

Vincent shot him a glare but refrained from responding to the jab. Instead, he reached into a drawer, pulling out a small folder and sliding it across the table toward Sylus. “Here’s everything I have—addresses, known associates, recent sightings.”

Sylus took the folder with a measured nod, flipping it open to scan the contents. Inside were photographs of Serene Grey, a woman with cold eyes and a cunning smile, alongside detailed reports of her movements and operations. He noted the precision of the intel, silently acknowledging Vincent’s thoroughness.

“This will do,” Sylus said, closing the folder and setting it aside. He leaned back in his chair once more, exuding the same aura of effortless control that had unnerved Vincent from the start. “You’ve made a wise decision, Vincent.”

Vincent let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “Wise? Hardly. You backed me into a corner.”

Sylus’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “It’s better to be cornered than crushed. You still have options. Play your cards right, and you might even come out of this unscathed. So long as you cease this trafficking operation of course.”

Vincent didn’t respond immediately. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, his hands steadier now, though his mind was anything but. The revelation about Reese’s involvement in Serene’s operations had hit harder than he wanted to admit. He had known his son had problems—had even suspected him of dabbling in criminal circles—but hearing it confirmed, and by the man who killed him, was another matter entirely.

After a long silence, Vincent spoke again, his tone quieter, more contemplative. “She’s dangerous, you know. Serene doesn’t just disappear because she’s afraid. She disappears because she’s planning something.”

Sylus regarded him with interest, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. “Planning what?”

Vincent hesitated, as though debating whether or not to share more. But something in Sylus’s gaze made it clear that withholding information wasn’t an option. “Word is, she’s been trying to secure something big. Something…rare.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed slightly. He had heard whispers of Serene’s recent dealings, but nothing concrete. “Go on.”

Vincent took a slow sip of his drink before continuing. “A shipment of illicit protocore. High-grade. She’s been brokering deals with some unsavory types—mercenaries, rogue scientists, the works. If she gets her hands on those cores…” He trailed off, the implication hanging heavily in the air.

Sylus didn’t need Vincent to finish the thought. Protocores, especially ones of high purity, were highly sought after in the underground market. They could enhance abilities, extend life spans, and, in the wrong hands, wreak untold havoc. If Serene was involved in something like that, it wasn’t just a matter of personal revenge anymore—it was a potential threat on a much larger scale.

Not that he cared much about illegal protocore trading. Its part of how he built his own empire. However getting his hands on them himself didn't sound like a bad idea.

“Interesting,” Sylus murmured, his mind already calculating the next move. He stood, picking up the folder and tucking it neatly under his arm. “I’ll handle it.”

Vincent rose as well, though his movements were slower, wearier. He fixed Sylus with a hard stare, his expression unreadable. “If you find her…do what you have to. But leave my name out of it.”

Sylus gave him a cold, knowing smile. “Of course. Discretion is a given.”

Sylus then dug into the pocket of his suit and pulled out the Emerald Protocore, it shining in its glass container. He dropped the container on a desk, watching Vincent eyes light up.

"Say hi to the mistress for me. I'm sure she'll appreciate the gift"

Without another word, Sylus turned and made his way toward the door, his steps deliberate and unhurried. Vincent watched him go, the weight of their encounter settling heavily on his shoulders. As the door closed behind Sylus, Vincent reached for his glass once more, downing the remainder in one swift motion.

Sylus stepped outside Vincent’s estate, the bright afternoon sun casting sharp shadows across the pristine driveway. The light glinted off the sleek black car waiting for him, but the warmth of the day did little to temper the cold fury bubbling just beneath his calm exterior. Mephisto swooped down from a nearby tree, perching on his shoulder with a soft flutter of wings. The bird ruffled its feathers, letting out a low, disgruntled caw.

Sylus absentmindedly reached up to stroke the birds head, his thoughts already elsewhere. He had done what he came here to do—secured the protocore and struck a deal that, at least for now, kept Vincent’s meddling contained. But something about the encounter still irked him. The man’s desperation, his hollow excuses for deceit—it grated on Sylus in a way he hadn’t anticipated. And now, as he stood there in the afternoon light, a new thought took root in his mind, one that grew darker with every passing second.

He pulled out his phone, dialing a secure number. The line clicked, and a voice answered, steady and efficient. “Yes, sir?”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone even but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Vincent’s plane trip—make sure it ends in tragedy.”

There was a pause, the person on the other end clearly processing the order before responding carefully. “Understood, sir. How would you like it handled?”

“Mechanical failure,” Sylus said, his voice cold and deliberate. “Something plausible. Nothing too obvious. And ensure the wife survives.” He paused, considering his next words carefully. “She’ll finally be free of his lies, and with him gone, there’ll be no more distractions.”

“Yes, sir. And the timing?”

“The trip is in a week” Sylus ended the call without waiting for a response, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He rarely reconsidered decisions once made, but something about Vincent’s situation—the false life he led, the deceit woven into every aspect of his existence—had struck a nerve. Perhaps it was because Sylus himself had no patience for such duplicity, or perhaps it was because, despite all his flaws, there was one thing he had always been certain of: loyalty.

Cheating on the woman you vowed to protect? And for what? Selfish love? The thought made his stomach turn.

At least Vincent’s wife would be free now. And as for the mistress? Sylus had no interest in her fate. He had given Vincent the protocore—what happened beyond that was no longer his concern.

Just as he turned to step into the car, his phone vibrated again in his pocket. He frowned, glancing at the caller ID: Luke. Without hesitation, he answered, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Speak.”

There was a brief pause, followed by Luke’s voice—uneven, trembling, and clearly panicked. “Boss. I—I’m sorry. Please, I’ll fix this.”

Sylus’s brows furrowed instantly, a flicker of unease settling in his chest. Luke’s tone wasn’t just nervous—it was bordering on frantic. “What are you even talking about, Luke? Fix what? Is she okay?”

“I—uh—she’s on foot right now,” Luke stammered, each word coming out more frantic than the last. “With a gun.”

Sylus’s entire body went rigid, his mind racing as those words sank in. On foot? With a gun? His heart rate spiked, but his voice remained dangerously calm. “What kind of joke is this? I told you to only call me if her water broke,” he said slowly, his tone low and laced with tension. “So unless—”

“No, it’s not a joke!” Luke interrupted quickly, the fear in his voice palpable. “It’s…I left my gun in my coat pocket. After I spilled soda on her, I gave her the coat, and…she found it. She pointed it at us and threatened to shoot herself if we didn’t let her go.”

Sylus’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. His blood began to boil, a mix of fury and something far more dangerous—panic. “You what?” he growled, his voice dangerously low, each word carrying the weight of barely restrained rage.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Luke said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “She just—she ran off before we could stop her. She’s on foot, boss. But I swear, we’ll find her.”

For a moment, Sylus said nothing, his mind racing through every possible scenario. You were out there, alone, heavily pregnant, armed, and clearly distraught enough to threaten your own life. The thought sent a wave of cold dread through him, but he forced himself to stay focused.

“I’ll deal with you both later,” Sylus said after a tense pause, his tone colder than ice. “For now, keep calm. There’s a tracker embedded in her engagement ring—I can see her location easily.”

Luke exhaled shakily, clearly relieved that there was a way to track you down. “What do you want us to do, boss?”

Sylus’s jaw clenched as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Anger, fear, frustration—all of it threatened to boil over, but he couldn’t afford to lose control now. He needed to get to you. Fast. Serene would have to wait.

“I’ll send you both her coordinates,” he said, his voice hard and unyielding. “I can be back in about eight hours. By the time I arrive, I expect her to be back safely. No exceptions.”

“Yes, boss,” Luke said hurriedly, his voice trembling slightly. “We’ll get her and the baby back. I promise.”

“You already failed me once,” Sylus said darkly, his tone cutting like a blade. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Without waiting for a response, he ended the call and lowered the phone, his hand still clenched tightly around it. His heart pounded in his chest, the residual anger mingling with a growing sense of urgency. He opened the tracking app, watching as a small blinking dot appeared on the map. You hadn’t gotten far yet—good. That gave him some time.

The thought of you, heavily pregnant and vulnerable, wandering alone with a gun, filled him with a growing sense of dread. He was a man who controlled everything in his world—his business, his empire, even life and death when necessary—but right now, the one thing he valued most was beyond his immediate reach. Anything could happen out there. You could get injured, go into labor, run into a Wanderer...

Gritting his teeth, Sylus inhaled sharply and turned to the crow perched on his shoulder. Mephisto ruffled his feathers, sensing the rising tension in his creator's demeanor.

“Mephisto,” Sylus said, his voice low but commanding, each syllable cutting through the air like a blade. “Hurry back to the N109 Zone. I want everything within a hundred miles scanned—every road, every path, every possible hiding spot.”

Mephisto let out a sharp, piercing shriek, his beady eyes gleaming with understanding. Without hesitation, the crow spread his wings and launched into the sky, disappearing into the afternoon light with powerful beats of his wings. Sylus tracked his ascent for a moment, watching as the bird soared higher, becoming a dark speck against the bright expanse above.

He climbed into the back of the waiting car, his expression cold and unreadable as he barked a sharp order to the driver. “Back to the airfield. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver responded without hesitation, pulling away from the estate at high speed.

As the car sped down the long driveway, Sylus leaned back in his seat, his fingers drumming restlessly against the leather armrest. His thoughts were entirely consumed by you—your safety, your well-being, and his daughter. The very thought of something happening to you made his blood run cold. His mind was already working, calculating the fastest way to reach you. Eight hours. It was too long, but it would have to do.

And when he found you—when he brought you back—you wouldn’t be leaving his sight again.

Not for a long, long time.

Your breath came in short, sharp gasps as you stumbled down the uneven dirt path, your hands instinctively cradling your swollen belly. Every step felt like fire shooting through your feet, your muscles screaming in protest, but you didn’t dare stop. Not yet. You couldn’t. The weight of your baby pressing down on your abdomen made it harder to move with any real speed, and the burning ache in your lower back only worsened with each passing second.

Your daughter kicked fiercely, almost as if she could sense your distress. You winced, pausing briefly to press your hand against your belly, trying to soothe her. “It’s okay,” you whispered through gritted teeth, though you weren’t sure who you were trying to reassure—her or yourself. “Just a little further…”

You scanned your surroundings frantically. The area felt eerily familiar—broken streetlights lined the path on either side, and just ahead, you noticed a clearing that tugged at your memory. Of course. You’d been down this way before, during your last escape attempt. Back then, you had taken the path leading toward the corner store. That was how you had ended up with Reese. In that basement. You weren’t about to make the same mistake twice.

Without hesitation, you veered off in the opposite direction, away from the familiar route and deeper into the unknown. The air was thick with tension, every rustling leaf and snapping twig setting your nerves on edge. No doubt Luke and Kieran had already alerted Sylus, and he was probably tracking you right now. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze, like a shadow looming over you, relentless and unyielding.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest—not just from the physical exertion, but from sheer fear. You knew what Sylus was capable of. He wouldn’t stop. He never stopped. He always found you.

You tried to push the thought from your mind, focusing instead on placing one foot in front of the other. But it was getting harder. Every few steps, a sharp, tightening pain rippled through your belly, stealing your breath and forcing you to slow down. Braxton Hicks, you reminded yourself, though that knowledge did little to ease your growing anxiety. You couldn’t afford to stop, not when freedom was finally within reach.

After what felt like an eternity, you spotted a bus stop up ahead. Relief washed over you, though it was fleeting—there was no telling when the next bus would arrive, and you couldn’t linger too long out in the open. Still, your legs threatened to buckle beneath you, and the burning in your chest demanded a moment’s rest. You staggered toward the bench, collapsing onto it with a quiet groan as you leaned back and closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to catch your breath.

The baby kicked again, harder this time, and you grimaced, placing both hands on your belly as if to calm her. “I know, I know,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “We can’t stop for long. Just give me a minute…”

Your entire body ached—your feet throbbed, your back felt like it was on fire, and the relentless pressure in your lower abdomen made it almost impossible to think straight. You wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of Luke’s coat, which was now damp and clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Despite the cool afternoon breeze, you felt unbearably hot, every breath coming out ragged and shallow.

Just when you thought you couldn’t push yourself any further, the low rumble of an approaching engine caught your attention. Your eyes snapped open, heart leaping with a mix of hope and trepidation as a bus rounded the corner and slowed to a stop in front of you.

The doors hissed open, and the driver—a middle-aged man with graying hair and a tired expression—leaned slightly out of his seat, eyeing you warily. “You got any money?” he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Panic flickered in your chest. Of course, you hadn’t thought about money. “Please,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, raw with desperation. “I don’t…I don’t have any money. I’m pregnant, and I’m homeless. I just need a ride—just a few stops, to get closer to my-er mom’s house.”

Was the lie convincing enough? You hoped so. Your sure you looked a mess by now.

The driver’s eyes flicked down to your belly, taking in your disheveled appearance—sweaty, exhausted, clearly in pain. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and you held your breath, silently pleading with him. If he turned you away now, you didn’t know what you’d do.

Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before jerking his head toward the interior of the bus. “Alright, get on. But just a few stops, you hear me?”

Relief flooded through you, so overwhelming that you nearly burst into tears. “Thank you,” you whispered, forcing yourself to your feet despite the burning protest of your muscles. You climbed the steps carefully, gripping the rail tightly to keep your balance as another wave of Braxton Hicks contractions tightened your belly.

Once you were on board, you made your way to the nearest seat and sank down heavily, letting out a shuddering breath. The driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror but said nothing more as he pulled away from the curb, the bus lurching forward with a groan of its engine.

For the first time since your frantic escape, you allowed yourself a moment to relax—if only slightly. The bus rocked gently as it moved, the familiar motion oddly soothing despite the chaos still swirling in your mind. You rested a hand on your belly, feeling the baby shift beneath your touch. She was still moving, still kicking, which meant she was okay for now.

But you weren’t out of danger yet. You knew that. No doubt Sylus was already on your tail—he always seemed to know exactly where you were, no matter how far you ran. You didn’t have much time, but at least now, with the bus covering some of the distance, you had a chance.

You had to be much smarter than last time. This would definitely be your last chance. God knows what Sylus would come up with next if he got you again. A cage maybe...? The thought made you shudder.

As the bus rumbled along the uneven road, you tried to steady your breathing, one hand gripping the seat tightly while the other remained protectively on your belly. The baby had calmed down somewhat, but you could still feel her shifting restlessly beneath your palm. The rhythmic rocking of the bus helped ease the burning ache in your legs, though your heart continued to pound, each beat a reminder of the ticking clock.

You hadn’t lied about being in pain—you were. Everything hurt. But the part about going to your mom’s house? That had been pure desperation. You hadn’t seen your mom in years. She was dead. Still, it had been enough to convince the driver to let you on, and that was what mattered.

Leaning back against the cracked leather seat, you glanced out the window, your eyes scanning the passing scenery. The streets were familiar but distant, hazy memories of another life surfacing briefly before fading away. You tried not to think about Sylus, but it was impossible. You knew him too well. He wouldn’t rest until he found you. Even now, Mephisto could be nearby, tracking your every move.

Your hand drifted to the ring, the weight of it feeling heavier than usual. It had once been a symbol of something you didn’t fully understand—Sylus’s obsession, his possessiveness. Now, it was a constant reminder that you were never truly free. You wanted to rip it off, toss it out the window, but you hesitated.

No. The ring could be useful. You could sell it for money right? Use the money to hop on a ferry and go overseas...to get as far away from Sylus as possible. Yeah that made way more sense than just tossing it.

“You sure you don’t have a husband looking for you?” the driver’s voice broke the silence, startling you slightly.

You turned to find him watching you in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed in concern. It took you a moment to realize what had prompted the question, and when you did, your heart skipped a beat. Shit. The ring. You had been looking at it. How to explain how a "homeless" pregnant woman had such an extravagant ring?

“I…” You hesitated, your mind scrambling for an explanation. “Please,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “You don’t want to get involved. For your own safety, just drop me off at the next few stops. I can’t say much more.”

The driver’s eyes flicked to the ring again, his concern deepening, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he gave a reluctant nod, his hands tightening slightly on the steering wheel as he turned his attention back to the road.

“Alright, lady,” he muttered. “But you be careful. Whatever mess you’re running from…I hope you find a way out.”

You didn’t respond, your fingers tightening around the edge of the seat as you stared down at the ring on your hand. The cool metal felt heavy against your skin, a constant reminder of the danger lurking just behind you. Every decision felt like a gamble, each one carrying risks you couldn’t fully predict. All you could do was keep moving and hope that, somehow, you could stay one step ahead. As the bus rumbled on, you leaned back against the cracked leather seat, trying to ignore the gnawing fear in your chest. You didn’t know what lay ahead, but one thing was certain—you couldn’t stop now.

The bus rumbled to a stop at the corner of a quiet, empty street, the brakes hissing as it came to a halt. You blinked, startled out of your frantic thoughts by the sudden stillness. The driver turned slightly in his seat, his weary eyes meeting yours through the rearview mirror.

“This is where I stop for you, miss,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with quiet finality.

For a moment, you just stared at him, unable to process the words. Your heart sank, a heavy weight settling in your chest. No, this can’t be it. It’s not far enough. You wouldn’t make it more than a few miles on foot before Sylus or the twins caught up to you. You needed to cover more ground, and you needed to do it fast.

“Please,” you said, your voice trembling as you pushed yourself to your feet, gripping the seat in front of you for balance. “I’m sorry, but…I really need to get out of the city.”

The driver’s expression softened slightly, but he shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve already taken you further than I should’ve. I need this job, miss. Please, just step off the bus.”

Desperation clawed at your throat, making it hard to breathe. You could feel the baby shifting restlessly inside you, as if she could sense your rising panic. This isn’t enough. I won’t make it. I’ll be caught. The thought sent a jolt of fear through you, making your hands tremble as you tried to think of something—anything—that could change the driver’s mind.

“I can give you my ring as compensation,” you blurted out, your voice cracking with urgency. You held up your hand, the engagement ring glinting faintly in the dim light. “It’s really expensive—”

The driver raised a hand, cutting you off with a sorrowful expression. “I’m sorry, miss. I can’t take that. I’m not looking to rob a pregnant woman, and I can’t lose my job. Please, just step off the bus. I can call an ambulance or take you to a hospital if you really need it, but I can’t drive you any further.”

Your heart pounded harder, every beat echoing like a ticking clock in your ears. You didn’t have time for this. You didn’t have time to wait for kindness or hope for mercy. Sylus could be closing in on you this very second. Every second you spent arguing was another second lost.

“I don’t have time for this!” you snapped, your voice rising in pitch as tears began to blur your vision. “Please! I’ll do anything. I need to get out of the city—for me and my baby’s safety!” You could hear the desperation in your own voice, the raw panic threatening to consume you.

Tears streamed down your face now, hot and fast, and your hands shook uncontrollably as you clutched at the seat in front of you. You could feel the driver’s hesitation, see the sympathy in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly, but his voice had hardened, resolved. “Please step off the bus. I don’t want to have to drag a pregnant lady off, but if you don’t get off willingly, I’ll have no choice.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as those words sank in. He was serious. He wasn’t going to take you any further. You didn’t have time to beg. You didn’t have time to argue. Time was running out, and you knew—you knew—that if you stepped off this bus, it was over. Sylus would find you, and everything you had done to escape would be for nothing.

Something inside you snapped.

Your fingers instinctively went to the pocket of Luke’s coat, wrapping around the cold metal of the sleep gun. You pulled it out in one swift motion, leveling it at the driver before you could second-guess yourself.

His eyes widened in shock, and his hands shot up in the universal gesture of surrender. “Whoa, whoa! What the hell are you doing?” he said, his voice rising in alarm. “Put the gun down! You don’t want to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and the words felt foreign, hollow, like they didn’t belong to you. Your hands were trembling, the weight of the gun cold and terrifying, but you didn’t lower it. “You seem like a nice man, but either you drive me out of here…or I’ll drive myself.��

The driver stared at you, his expression a mixture of fear and disbelief. “Look, I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but threatening me isn’t going to help you.”

“I don’t have a choice!” you shouted, your voice breaking as more tears spilled down your face. “You don’t understand—I can’t go back. I won’t go back.”

For a brief moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the engine. The bus driver looked at you, really looked at you—at your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands, the sheer desperation radiating from every part of you. Slowly, he exhaled, lowering his hands slightly.

“Okay,” he said carefully, his tone calm but wary. “Okay. Just…calm down. Don’t do anything rash.”

You didn’t respond, your grip on the gun tightening as your heart raced wildly in your chest. You couldn’t believe what you were doing. The old you would have never—never—pointed a gun at an innocent person. But that version of you was long gone. This was survival. Nothing else mattered now.

“Just drive,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice trembling with emotion. “Please.”

The driver hesitated for a moment longer, then, with a reluctant nod, he turned back toward the wheel. The bus lurched forward again, the engine groaning as it picked up speed. You didn’t lower the gun, keeping it trained on him, your mind spinning with fear and adrenaline.

You didn’t recognize yourself anymore. You didn’t know who you were becoming. But none of it mattered—not now. The only thing that mattered was getting out of the city, getting as far away from Sylus as possible.

And you would do whatever it took to make that happen.

The bus rumbled along the deserted road, the engine’s low hum filling the tense silence between you and the driver. Your hands gripped the gun tightly, your knuckles white, though every passing second made it harder to ignore the gnawing guilt creeping up your spine. The man hadn’t argued, hadn’t tried anything. He was just driving, his eyes flicking nervously to the rearview mirror every so often, clearly hyper-aware of the weapon pointed at him.

You felt awful—wretched, really. Here you were, holding a gun to the head of someone who had shown you nothing but kindness. Someone who had stopped his bus for a visibly pregnant woman, taken her on board despite her lack of money, and now…now he was being forced to drive to God knows where under threat of violence.

But you couldn’t lower the gun. Not yet.

Every instinct in you screamed to keep it raised, to stay alert, because the moment you let your guard down might be the moment it all ended. Sylus’s reach was far. You couldn’t risk stopping now. You couldn’t afford to trust anyone—not fully.

The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the occasional creak of the bus and the sound of tires rolling over uneven pavement. You stared out the window, the scenery blurring past in muted shades of gray. Your heart still pounded in your chest, though the initial rush of adrenaline was beginning to wear off, leaving behind a hollow, aching exhaustion.

“Look,” the driver said suddenly, his voice cautious but steady, breaking the tense quiet. He didn’t turn to face you, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “I could take you to Linkon. It’s the next city over, not too far from here. You’d be able to find a safe place there.”

You froze at the mention of Linkon, a surge of anxiety tightening your chest. Linkon. Where Xavier was. Where you had spent that brief, fleeting moment of happiness before everything went to hell again. The idea of going back there was tempting—painfully so—but you knew it wasn’t an option. Going to Linkon would only put Xavier in more danger, and you couldn’t live with yourself if that happened.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I can’t go back there. I just…I can’t.”

The driver glanced at you briefly in the mirror, his brow furrowing in concern. “Okay…anywhere else, then? You name it.”

You hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at you. You didn’t have a destination in mind, only a desperate need to keep moving, to stay ahead of whatever storm was undoubtedly coming. “Just…anywhere but Linkon,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “And preferably not a major city. Somewhere quieter.”

The driver nodded slowly, eyeing the gun in your hands before turning his attention back to the road. Despite the tension in the air, he remained calm, his voice steady as he replied, “I got just the place. A small town a little further out. It’s quieter, like you asked.”

You swallowed hard, a flicker of gratitude stirring in your chest despite the guilt still weighing heavily on you. Even now, with a gun pointed at him, this man was offering to help. The realization made you feel sick to your stomach. What kind of person had you become?

“Okay,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the rumble of the engine. You glanced down at the gun in your hands, your fingers trembling slightly. For a brief moment, you considered lowering it, but fear held you back. You couldn’t take the risk.

“Please…just buckle your seatbelt, ma’am,” the driver said gently, his tone more concerned than fearful. “I don’t want you or the baby getting hurt.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Despite everything—the fear, the tension, the threat of violence—he was still thinking about your safety. It was such a simple request, one that shouldn’t have made your throat tighten with emotion, but it did. You weren’t used to kindness anymore. Not real kindness.

With trembling hands, you reached for the seatbelt and pulled it across your body, clicking it into place. The baby shifted slightly inside you, as if responding to the sudden pressure, and you placed a hand over your belly, trying to calm the restless movement.

“Thank you,” you murmured, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were thanking—the driver for his patience, or yourself for not breaking down completely.

The driver gave a small nod, his gaze focused on the road. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” he said quietly after a moment, his voice calm and measured. “But whatever it is…life always finds a way to sort itself out again."

You didn’t respond. What could you say? That you were being hunted by a man who would stop at nothing to claim you as his own again? That you had escaped only to find yourself lost, with no real plan or destination? That you were terrified—terrified for yourself, for your baby, for whatever future lay ahead?

Instead, you sat in silence, your eyes fixed on the road ahead, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You didn’t know what was waiting for you at the end of this journey, but one thing was certain—you couldn’t go back. You couldn’t let Sylus find you.

Not now.

Not ever.

"Boy or girl?" the driver asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a gentle nudge.

You froze, caught off guard by the question. It felt strange—foreign, even—to be spoken to like this, in a way that wasn’t demanding, controlling, or laced with hidden motives. You had forgotten what simple, human interaction with strangers felt like. Disregarding the time spent with Xavier, it had been so long since you were alone, truly alone, without Sylus looming in the background.

For a brief moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Your mind reeled, still teetering between fight and flight, and this unexpected moment of normalcy felt almost surreal. Yet, something about the driver’s casual tone, his genuine curiosity, calmed you just enough to find your voice.

"Uh…girl," you finally said, rubbing your belly instinctively. "She’s a girl."

The driver gave a small nod, his eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror before returning to the road. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, softening the lines of his weathered face. "That’s nice," he said quietly. "Have you decided what to name her?"

You blinked, startled once again by the simplicity of the question. A name. Something that should have been joyous, something that should have been decided after endless happy debates over baby name books and hopeful dreams for the future. But for you, it was different. The idea of naming your baby was tangled in a web of uncertainty and fear, weighed down by everything you had been through.

Your mind swirled with the names that had crossed your thoughts before—Evia… Ruby… Names you had once clung to in moments of hope, names that had flickered like fragile flames in the darkness of your captivity. But now? Now, the thought of naming her felt overwhelming, almost unbearable.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers brushing lightly over the curve of your belly as you tried to keep your voice steady. "I honestly… I don’t know if I’m planning on keeping her," you admitted, the words coming out quieter than you had intended. Each one felt like a knife twisting in your chest. "Maybe…maybe her new parents will want to name her, y’know?"

The moment the words left your mouth, a tightness gripped your chest, and you felt a familiar sting in your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill. But it was no use. The more you tried to suppress the emotion, the more it clawed its way to the surface, raw and relentless.

The driver didn’t say anything right away, but you caught the subtle way his hands tightened on the wheel, his expression shifting slightly. It wasn’t pity—thank God, it wasn’t pity—but something closer to understanding. Empathy, maybe.

"You’ve got a lot on your plate," he said after a moment, his voice softer now, more thoughtful. "But…if it means anything, whatever you decide, it’s clear you care about her. That counts for something."

His words hit harder than you expected, and you found yourself gripping the edge of the seat to steady yourself. You didn’t know this man, and he didn’t know you. Yet, in that moment, his words carried a weight you hadn’t realized you needed to hear. You weren’t sure if you believed him—if caring was enough—but for a fleeting second, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely alone in this.

Still, you couldn’t let yourself dwell on that thought for long. There wasn’t time. You had to keep moving, keep running, because the moment you stopped, Sylus would catch up. And this time, you knew there wouldn’t be any escape.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to push down the lump that had formed there. "Thanks," you muttered, though you didn’t entirely know what you were thanking him for. Maybe for not pressing further, maybe for not asking questions you couldn’t answer.

Or maybe just for being human.

A few hours passed in silence, the bus rolling steadily along the deserted road. The tension in your chest began to ease slightly, though a nagging sense of unease still lingered at the back of your mind. You knew this brief calm wouldn’t last. Sylus was out there, and he was coming. It was only a matter of time before he caught up.

"We’re almost there," the driver said after a while, his voice breaking through your thoughts once again. "It’s a smaller area, like you asked. Should be quiet enough for you to rest for a bit."

You nodded, offering a quiet "Thanks" as the bus began to slow. Despite everything—the fear, the guilt—you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude toward the driver. He didn’t have to help you. Hell, you’d pointed a gun at him, and yet here he was, still offering a helping hand.

As the bus came to a gentle stop, the driver turned to you, his expression cautious but kind. "This is where I’ll drop you off. There’s a diner a couple of blocks down if you need something to eat. And… well, there’s a police station nearby if you change your mind about needing help."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the police station, and a cold wave of panic washed over you. A police station. Shit.

Your eyes darted to the window, and sure enough, you could see the telltale red-and-blue lights of the station’s sign glowing faintly in the distance. He’d brought you close—too close. You hadn’t been expecting this. You couldn’t involve the police. Sylus wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who got in his way, and you couldn’t live with more blood on your hands.

"Thanks," you said quickly, forcing yourself to sound calm even as your pulse raced. You unbuckled your seatbelt and grabbed the edge of the seat, pushing yourself to your feet with a strained effort. "I appreciate it."

The driver nodded, watching you carefully as you made your way to the front of the bus. His eyes flicked briefly to the gun still clutched in your hand, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he offered a quiet, "Good luck, miss. Stay safe."

You didn’t respond, too focused on the rising panic tightening in your chest. As soon as your feet hit the pavement, you turned away from the bus, your heart pounding wildly in your ears. You needed to move—fast. You couldn’t risk staying here, not with the police station so close.

But you didn’t get far before the panic fully set in. What if they saw you? What if Sylus had people watching nearby?

Your breath hitched, and without thinking, you broke into a run. The weight of your belly made it difficult, each step sending jolts of pain through your body, but you didn’t care. You had to get away, had to put as much distance between yourself and the police station as possible.

The world around you blurred as you ran, your mind spinning with fear and desperation. You didn’t know where you were going—only that you couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not until you were sure you were safe.

You slowed your pace, gasping for breath as the adrenaline began to ebb away, leaving behind a gnawing ache in your legs and a heavy, almost unbearable pressure in your lower back. You pressed a hand against your belly, feeling the baby shift restlessly inside. She wasn’t kicking as hard now, but the movement was constant, as if reminding you she was still there, still depending on you.

For the first time since you bolted off the bus, you allowed yourself to stop. Just for a moment. Your eyes darted around the unfamiliar streets, taking in the quiet surroundings. The town wasn’t bustling, but it wasn’t deserted either. A few cars passed by on the narrow streets, and clusters of people walked in and out of nearby shops, chatting and laughing as if everything in the world was perfectly fine.

You envied them.

To them, this was just another ordinary afternoon in their quaint little town. But for you? This was survival. Every second counted. Every decision mattered. You couldn’t afford to waste time, but right now, you didn’t even know what your next move should be. You were truly on your own. Just you…and your daughter.

Your eyes flicked down to your belly, and for a brief moment, you rested both hands on it, feeling the subtle, rhythmic movement beneath your palms. “We’ll figure this out,” you murmured quietly, as if speaking to her could somehow calm your racing thoughts. “I promise, okay? We just have to make smart decisions. No more mistakes.”

Easier said than done. The weight of your situation pressed down on you like an invisible vice, and your mind spun with all the things you needed to do. Find a place to rest. Get food. Figure out where to go next. But first and foremost…money. You couldn’t keep relying on threats and luck to get by. Pointing a gun at people wasn’t a long-term solution. It had worked with the bus driver, but sooner or later, it was bound to land you in serious trouble. You couldn’t risk that—not when you had a baby to protect.

Your gaze dropped to the ring on your finger, the glint of the expensive ring catching the late afternoon sun. Right. First things first. Gotta secure some money.

You sighed, sliding your thumb over the ring absentmindedly. Pawning it seemed like the best option, but it wasn’t exactly easy to do that without drawing attention. You looked like a mess—disheveled, sweaty, and clearly out of place in this neat, quiet town. The long coat Luke had given you only added to the strangeness of your appearance, making you stand out even more.

And you were starving. The dull, empty ache in your stomach was becoming harder to ignore, and the thought of trying to find food without any money only added to your growing anxiety.

“This is gonna be tough,” you muttered under your breath, glancing around at the buildings lining the street. Most of them were small businesses—cafés, bakeries, and quaint little shops. Nothing that looked remotely like a pawn shop or jewelry store. You needed to find someone who could point you in the right direction, but asking a stranger wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do. The less attention you drew to yourself, the better.

Still, you didn’t have much of a choice. You couldn’t keep wandering around aimlessly forever. Swallowing your hesitation, you scanned the street for someone who looked approachable. After a moment, you spotted a woman walking toward you, carrying a small shopping bag. She looked friendly enough—mid-thirties, casually dressed, with a kind face that didn’t seem too wary of strangers.

Steeling yourself, you took a deep breath and stepped forward, forcing a nervous smile. “Excuse me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tight knot of anxiety in your chest. “I’m sorry to bother you, but…do you know where I could find a jewelry shop around here?”

The woman paused, blinking in mild surprise before offering a polite smile. “Oh, sure. There’s one just a couple of blocks down that way.” She pointed to a street branching off to the left. “It’s called Oak & Gold. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” you said quickly, relief washing over you. You didn’t linger, turning in the direction she had pointed and making your way down the street as quickly as you could manage without drawing too much attention.

The area remained relatively quiet as you walked, your eyes darting to each building you passed. Despite being a smaller town, the streets were clean and well-maintained, with neatly trimmed hedges and colorful flower boxes lining the windows of some shops. It was nice—too nice, really. You couldn’t help but feel out of place, like an intruder in someone else’s picture-perfect life.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. You had a mission. Find the jewelry shop, pawn the ring, and get enough money to buy some food and figure out your next move. Simple, in theory. In practice? You weren’t so sure.

Your stomach growled loudly, and you winced, pressing a hand against it in an attempt to quiet the noise. Just a little longer, you told yourself, though you weren’t entirely sure if you were speaking to yourself or the baby. We’ll get something to eat soon. Just hang in there.

After a few more minutes of walking, you finally spotted the shop—a small, elegant storefront with a wooden sign hanging above the door that read Oak & Gold Fine Jewelry. You paused for a moment, staring at the building as a fresh wave of anxiety washed over you. This was it. Once you stepped inside, there was no turning back.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. You can do this. Just get in, sell the ring, and get out. No one has to know anything. Just act normal.

With that thought in mind, you squared your shoulders and pushed open the door, the soft chime of a bell announcing your arrival as you stepped inside.

The soft chime of the bell overhead echoed through the small jewelry shop as you stepped inside, the sound immediately making you more aware of your surroundings. The interior of the shop was warm and well-lit, with gleaming glass display cases arranged in neat rows. Each case was filled with glittering treasures—rings, necklaces, earrings, and bracelets that sparkled under the soft overhead lights. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and something metallic, like the scent of freshly cleaned silverware.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes scanning the room nervously. The atmosphere was quiet, almost too quiet, amplifying the sound of your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears. You didn’t belong here. That much was obvious. Between your disheveled appearance, the oversized coat draped awkwardly around you, and your protruding belly, you stood out like a sore thumb among the neat, polished surroundings.

Near the front of the store, a teenager stood behind one of the display cases, idly scrolling through her phone with a bored expression. Next to her was an older man, likely in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a kind but sharp gaze. As you approached the counter, he looked up, his eyes immediately flicking to your swollen belly before settling on your face.

"Welcome!" he said, his tone friendly but curious. "Haven’t seen your face around here. Visiting?"

You swallowed nervously, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. Despite his casual tone, there was something in his eyes—an alertness, a quiet calculation—that made you uneasy. Still, he didn’t comment on your appearance, didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to answer. Instead, he offered a polite smile, waiting patiently for you to speak.

"Ah, yeah… just stopping by. Seeing new things…y’know," you mumbled awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the engagement ring on your finger, sliding it off carefully. The weight of it felt heavier than usual, as if it carried all the tension of the moment. You placed it on the counter, the metal glinting under the bright lights.

"Um…I need gold. Or cash. Whatever you guys use around here," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The man’s eyes widened as he picked up the ring, turning it over in his hands with a look of astonishment. He brought it closer to his face, inspecting it carefully. The teenager glanced up briefly from her phone, giving the ring a disinterested glance before going back to scrolling.

"I won’t lie," the older man said slowly, his tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "I don’t know where you got this ring, but…this costs a shit ton, miss. I don’t think I even carry enough in the store to give you for something like this."

Your heart skipped a beat, panic beginning to creep in at his words. Shit. This wasn’t going as smoothly as you had hoped. You had expected questions, sure, but you hadn’t anticipated this—him being suspicious about the ring’s value. The last thing you needed was to draw more attention to yourself.

"Um…that’s okay!" you said quickly, forcing a nervous smile. "I’ll take whatever you can give me. I need at least 20k though…"

The man set the ring down on the counter, his expression shifting from astonishment to something more cautious. He eyed you carefully, as if trying to piece together the story behind the expensive ring and the desperate, disheveled woman standing before him.

"Twenty grand?" he repeated, his tone skeptical. "Miss, this ring is worth at least a hundred grand…probably way more. I can’t in good faith only give you 20k for something like this."

He slid the ring back across the counter toward you, his brows furrowed in concern. "Look, if you’re in trouble or something, there are other ways to get help. I can’t just give you 20k for a ring like this. It doesn’t add up."

Your chest tightened, and a wave of panic surged through you. Does he think I stole it? The thought made your heart race even faster. You couldn’t afford for anyone to call the police, couldn’t afford for anyone to ask too many questions. You needed the money, and you needed it now.

"Please," you said, your voice trembling with desperation. "I really need the money. I don’t need its full value—I don’t even care about the ring. I’m about to have my baby, and I need some things for her. I promise it’s fine. Just…please."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. You hated this—hated feeling so vulnerable, so powerless. But you didn’t have a choice. This was survival, and survival meant swallowing your pride and doing whatever it took to protect your baby.

The man’s expression softened slightly, though the wariness didn’t entirely leave his eyes. He glanced at the ring again, then back at you, as if weighing his options. After what felt like an eternity, he let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright," he said reluctantly. "I can’t give you 20k in cash right now, but I can give you 10k upfront. The rest I’ll need to wire through a bank transfer. You got a bank account?"

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. You didn’t have a personal bank account anymore—Sylus had seen to that—but you remembered opening a small account in another name years ago, one you had used for emergencies. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. A quick stop to an atm to withdraw the rest and you'd be good.

"Yeah…I do," you said quietly.

"Okay," the man said, giving you a long, searching look before turning toward the back of the shop. "Wait here. I’ll get the cash and bring out the paperwork for the transfer."

You exhaled shakily, a mix of relief and lingering anxiety washing over you. You had managed to convince him, but it hadn’t been easy. Still, you couldn’t relax yet. Not until you had the money in hand and were far away from here.

As the man disappeared into the back room, you glanced down at your belly again, rubbing it gently. "Almost there," you whispered, more to yourself than to the baby. "We’re almost there."

Sylus glanced at the time displayed on his phone—just over four hours since he had taken off. The journey was dragging on far longer than he liked, every passing minute an agonizing reminder that you were still out there, beyond his reach. He tapped open the tracker again, watching the small blinking dot marking your location. You had stopped moving a little bit ago, somewhere in Brunswick, a quiet little town far from the bustling cities he was accustomed to.

The stillness of the tracker unnerved him. Were you resting? Hiding? Hurt? His mind spun through possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

“Luke, Kieran—update,” he said sharply, connecting to the twins through the communicator in his ear.

Luke’s voice crackled through the line, tense but composed. “We’re about an hour outside Brunswick, boss. Still no sign of her, but we did manage to track down the bus driver she…uh…borrowed transportation from.”

Sylus’s brows lifted slightly in surprise. “Borrowed?” he repeated, his tone edged with curiosity.

“Well…” Luke hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “She, uh, held him at gunpoint. Took control of the situation, made him drive her further than his route allowed. He was pretty shaken up, but he didn’t call the cops—figured it was safer to just let her go.”

Sylus leaned back in his seat, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. You? Holding someone at gunpoint twice in one day? It wasn’t exactly a scenario he would have expected from you, but then again, desperation had a way of pushing people beyond their limits. Instead of anger, he felt a strange flicker of pride. That’s my girl, he thought, amusement mingling with admiration. You were learning how to survive, how to fight back in your own way.

“Impressive,” he murmured, more to himself than to Luke. “She’s resourceful. Good.”

Luke, likely sensing Sylus’s mood, cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Anyway, we’re keeping an eye on things. Shouldn’t be long before we catch up. You want us to approach her if we find her?”

“No,” Sylus said firmly. “You’ll wait for me. Don’t spook her. Just observe from a distance and report back if anything changes.”

“Understood, boss,” Luke said before the line went silent again.

Sylus’s fingers drummed idly against the armrest, his mind already racing ahead. You were clever, but you were also tired, stressed, and heavily pregnant. He didn’t need brute force to bring you back—he needed patience. He would let you think you had a chance, let you tire yourself out. And when the time was right, he would step in.

By the time Sylus’s jet touched down at the private airstrip near Brunswick, night was beginning to settle over the horizon, casting long shadows across the tarmac. He didn’t waste a second, striding down the steps with Mephisto perched silently on his shoulder. The bird’s sharp eyes gleamed in the fading light, already scanning the surroundings as if sensing his creator's urgency.

Sylus pulled out his phone, checking the tracker once more. The dot hadn’t moved in hours, remaining stubbornly fixed in the same spot. He didn’t like it. You were on the run, constantly moving—why would you stop now?

“What are you up to, kitten?” he muttered under his breath, his crimson eyes narrowing in thought.

“Sir, the car is ready,” his driver announced, approaching with a respectful nod.

Sylus barely acknowledged him, sliding into the sleek black vehicle waiting nearby. As the engine roared to life, he leaned back in his seat, fingers steepled in thought. You had stopped moving, and that worried him more than if you had been constantly on the move. Were you planning something? Had you found a temporary place to hide? Or worse, had something happened to you?

“Drive. Quickly,” Sylus ordered, his tone sharp and unwavering.

The car sped off, cutting through the quiet evening air as they made their way toward Brunswick. Sylus’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but beneath the tension and worry, there was a single, undeniable truth: he was close. So close to finding you, to holding you again. And once he did, he wouldn’t let go. Not this time.

Mephisto let out a low caw from a branch, as if sensing his creator's determination. The crow had been dispatched ahead of the car, already flying toward the town to scout the area. He hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of you yet, but that didn’t matter. It was only a matter of time now.

Soon, very soon, you would be back where you belonged.

The town of Brunswick was all but asleep by the time Sylus’s sleek black car pulled into the narrow street leading toward Oak & Gold Fine Jewelry. The late night had fully settled in, casting long shadows over the quiet town. Most of the shops had closed, their windows dark and their entrances locked, save for a few late-night diners and convenience stores still welcoming customers. The crisp night air carried a faint chill, but it was the quiet that unsettled Sylus more than anything—the kind of quiet that meant people were minding their own business, trying not to attract attention.

As the car crept down the street, Sylus noticed the occasional head turning, curious eyes peering at the unfamiliar vehicle. He could practically hear their whispers—Who’s that? Some kind of government agent? FBI? Maybe a politician? The polished, luxurious car didn’t fit in here, and neither did he. He didn’t care. Let them talk. Let them speculate.

He was here for one thing, and one thing only—you.

His fingers gripped the phone in his hand, the blinking dot on the screen still fixed at the jewelry shop. Oak & Gold. He narrowed his eyes, considering his next move. Had you convinced the owner to let you stay there for the night? Maybe you’d thought it was a safe place to hide. Or, more likely, you had decided to pawn off something valuable. His jaw tightened at the thought.

The ring.

Logically, Sylus knew why you would do it. You needed money, and the engagement ring was worth far more than most people in this town could comprehend. It was a smart move on your part—practical, efficient. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier for him to accept. That ring wasn’t just a shiny object. It was a symbol. A promise. A mark of what you meant to him. And now you’d tossed it away like it was nothing.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to let go of the irritation gnawing at him. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. I can buy you a thousand rings just like it. What matters now is finding you.

The car rolled to a stop across the street from Oak & Gold. Sylus stepped out without hesitation, the sound of his polished shoes striking the pavement echoing in the quiet night. His coat flared slightly as he moved, the cool breeze tugging at the edges. He crossed the street in long, measured strides, his sharp crimson eyes locked on the figure standing at the shop’s entrance—a man in his late fifties, fumbling with a set of keys as he locked up for the night.

Sylus didn’t slow his pace. He closed the distance quickly, placing a firm hand on the man’s shoulder before he could even register his presence.

The man jumped, his eyes widening in alarm as he turned to face Sylus. “Jesus, man!” he yelped, clutching his chest. “You scared the hell outta me.”

“Let’s have a chat inside, shall we?” Sylus said smoothly, though there was a cold edge to his voice that left little room for argument.

The man chuckled nervously, trying to mask his unease. “Look, I don’t have any money. Not much to rob, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Sylus’s eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light, a hint of amusement flickering across his sharp features. “After you,” he said, gesturing toward the door.

The man hesitated, glancing around the empty street as if contemplating whether to call for help. But something in Sylus’s gaze—something cold, unyielding—made him think twice. With a resigned sigh, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, flicking on a small desk lamp that cast a warm glow over the shop’s interior.

Sylus followed him in, his gaze sweeping over the room. The shop was small but well-kept, with polished glass display cases lining the walls and shelves filled with various pieces of jewelry. The faint scent of wood polish and metal lingered in the air, mingling with the quiet hum of the overhead lights.

“So, uh…what do you want?” the man asked, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to appear confident. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as tall as you before. You play basketball or something?”

Sylus didn’t bother responding to the weak attempt at humor. Instead, he pulled out his phone, holding it up so the man could see the blinking dot on the screen.

“I don’t want trouble,” Sylus said calmly, though his tone carried a subtle menace. “But according to this, there should be a girl here. Where is she?”

The man blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Girl? Plenty of girls come in here every day. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sylus’s patience was wearing thin. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I tear this little place apart until I find her—or until your memory jogs.”

As if to emphasize his point, Sylus raised his hand slightly. A polished trophy from one of the shelves floated into the air before crashing into the adjacent wall with a loud bang, shattering a glass display case and scattering jewelry across the floor.

“Woah, woah—okay!” the man yelped, raising his hands in surrender. His face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “Look, I swear, I don’t know much! There was a pregnant girl who came in earlier. She had an expensive ring—begged me to give her cash for it. I gave her 20k, and she left. That’s it! She’s not here!”

Sylus studied him for a long, tense moment, his crimson eyes gleaming with an intensity that made the shopkeeper visibly tremble. The air in the room felt thick, suffused with an almost tangible pressure that seemed to weigh down on the man’s chest. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, sweat gathering at his temples despite the cool night air filtering through the shop’s open doorway.

“Produce the ring,” Sylus said again, his voice low and measured, carrying a quiet menace that left no room for negotiation. “Now.”

The shopkeeper stumbled back a step, nodding quickly. “Y-Yeah, yeah, okay. Just gimme a second,” he stammered, turning toward the counter with clumsy haste. His hands fumbled as he opened a drawer, rifling through its contents with a frantic urgency. Each second felt like an eternity, the tension in the room stretching taut as Sylus remained perfectly still, his gaze locked on the man like a predator watching its prey.

Finally, with a faint clink of metal against wood, the shopkeeper pulled out the ring. He turned slowly, holding it up for Sylus to see. The band gleamed faintly under the dim light, and though the man’s hands were shaking, the ring itself remained steady, as if mocking the gravity of the moment.

“See? Here. This is the ring, isn’t it?” the man said, his voice wavering as he held it out further toward Sylus, desperate to prove he wasn’t hiding anything.

Sylus stepped forward with an almost lazy grace, reaching out to take the ring from the man’s trembling fingers. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger, turning it slowly so the firelight reflected off its polished gems. There it was—the symbol of a promise, now nothing more than a pawned object traded for survival.

The weight of it felt heavier than he remembered, though he knew that was absurd. The ring hadn’t changed. What had changed was the context—the fact that you had willingly parted with it, reducing it to nothing more than a transaction. Despite himself, Sylus felt a flicker of something…unpleasant. Annoyance? Frustration? He couldn’t quite name it, but it gnawed at him all the same.

Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and every second wasted was another second you slipped further from his grasp. The thought sent a flicker of irritation through him, though Sylus’s expression remained perfectly composed. He had little patience for delays, and even less for dead ends.

Sylus turned to leave, his polished shoes making barely a sound on the wooden floor, but before he could reach the door, the man’s voice rang out behind him, hesitant but tinged with indignation. “Hey! You can’t just—”

“I’ll give you twenty thousand,” Sylus interrupted smoothly, without even turning around. His voice was cool, indifferent, as though the sum he mentioned was pocket change. He reached for the door handle, pausing only briefly to glance over his shoulder. “Plus more for the damage. It’ll be delivered by tomorrow. Thanks for your time.”

The shopkeeper’s mouth opened slightly, as if to protest further, but no words came out. He was left standing there, stunned, watching Sylus’s retreating figure disappear into the night. The glint of shattered glass and scattered jewelry reflected faintly in the dim light, a quiet testament to the storm that had just passed through.

Outside, the cool night air greeted Sylus like a whisper, crisp and biting against his skin. He paused on the sidewalk, allowing himself a brief moment to collect his thoughts. The town was eerily quiet now, the streets nearly deserted save for the occasional flicker of movement behind curtained windows. A faint breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the scent of old stone and damp earth.

Sylus pulled out his phone, his gaze narrowing as he stared at the blinking dot that had once guided him directly to you. Now, it was useless. Static. Still. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the frustration rising in his chest. You were gone, and without the tracker, he had no immediate way of knowing where you had gone next.

His mind raced through possibilities. You were smart—he had always known that. Resourceful, determined. But you were also heavily pregnant, vulnerable in a way that made every passing minute a risk. Anything could happen out here. You could run into trouble, get hurt, go into labor too far from help. He hated the uncertainty, the inability to predict your next move. It gnawed at him, an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the ring you had pawned. It was cold against his skin, a bitter reminder of how far you were willing to go to escape him. Kitten, where have you scurried off to? he thought, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. Was I really so terrible that you’d rather freeze in the night than be by my side?

A sharp whistle pierced the quiet night, and within seconds, Mephisto descended from the sky, his dark wings cutting through the air with silent precision. The crow landed gracefully on Sylus’s outstretched arm, his beady eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Go,” Sylus commanded softly, his voice low but firm. “Keep looking.”

The bird let out a shrill caw before taking off once more, disappearing into the shadows above. Sylus watched him go, his expression unreadable, though beneath the calm exterior, his mind churned with anticipation. Things were getting serious now. He didn’t know where you were yet, but one thing was certain—he would find you. It was only a matter of time.

And when he did, there would be no more running.

No more hiding.

You were his, and soon, very soon, he would have you back in his arms. He'd lock you away forever if he had to. You'd have his baby and everything would be right in the world again. His perfect, curated world.

With that thought, Sylus strode back to his car, his movements purposeful and precise. There was still work to be done, and though the night stretched on, he had no intention of resting until you were found.

The hunt had begun. And Sylus always caught his prey.

The hours since you’d left the pawn shop had felt like an eternity. The weight of the cash tucked inside your coat—far more than you had ever held in your life—seemed to grow heavier with every passing minute. You clutched the envelopes tightly against your chest, your fingers gripping the edges so hard they ached. It wasn’t just money. It was survival. The only thing standing between you and whatever came next.

Earlier, things had felt slightly more hopeful. You’d managed to grab a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich from a small deli tucked into the corner of a quiet street. The warmth of the food had been comforting, even if only for a short while. You’d even thought ahead, wrapping up a few extra sandwiches to carry with you in case you didn’t get another chance to eat soon. But that had been hours ago. The warmth had long since faded, replaced by the bitter chill of the night creeping in through your coat. The weight of reality was settling in once more.

You had sought refuge in the local library after the sun had set, grateful for the brief reprieve from the cold. The place had been warm and quiet, filled with the scent of old paper and polished wood. For a moment, you’d almost felt safe, hidden among the rows of books and the soft murmur of people flipping pages. But now, the library was closed, and you were back out on the streets, exposed and unsure of what to do next.

The thought of finding a motel crossed your mind, but the idea filled you with unease. Staying in one place, even for a night, felt like inviting danger. Like leaving a trail too obvious for Sylus to miss. You had no doubt that he was searching for you by now. No doubt that the twins were on your trail. And worst of all, you knew Mephisto—the damned bird—was probably scanning the area from above. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him. The thought made your skin crawl.

Still, you had to do something. You couldn’t stay out in the open all night, not like this. The cold was biting, each gust of wind cutting through your coat like a blade. You weren’t just thinking about yourself anymore—you were thinking about your daughter, growing inside you, kicking occasionally as if to remind you that she was there. You had to keep moving. You had to find somewhere safe.

You spotted a bench near city hall and made your way toward it, your legs aching with every step. Sitting down heavily, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, clutching it for warmth. The wind howled through the empty streets, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, trying to think.

What now?

Your mind raced with possibilities, each one more desperate than the last. You could try walking out of town—find a road that led somewhere remote and hope to hitch a ride. But the thought of being stuck out in the open, miles from anywhere, was terrifying. You could keep wandering the streets, but that was just as dangerous. And then there was the motel option, the one you kept circling back to despite the risk. At least it would be warm. At least you’d have a bed.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling slightly from more than just the cold. Every decision felt like a gamble, and you were running out of time to make one. You couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that Mephisto was close. That Sylus was close. He always had a way of finding you, no matter how far you ran.

Think, think, you told yourself, glancing around the darkened street. Most of the shops were closed, their windows dark, their doors locked tight. The only signs of life came from a distant diner, its neon sign flickering faintly in the distance. The idea of stepping inside was tempting—food, warmth, people. Safety in numbers. But it wouldn’t last long. You couldn’t hide forever in a diner.

Another gust of wind blew through the street, making you shiver violently. Your daughter kicked again, a small but insistent reminder of the stakes. You pressed a hand to your belly, whispering softly, “Just a little longer, okay?”

But as you sat there, clutching your coat and feeling the weight of the cash against your chest, a chilling thought crossed your mind: You can’t keep this up. Not forever. Sooner or later, Sylus will catch up. And when he does…

You didn’t let yourself finish the thought. You couldn’t. Instead, you forced yourself to stand, your legs protesting the movement. You had to find shelter. Somewhere warm, somewhere hidden. Somewhere that wouldn’t feel like walking into a trap.

First things first, you thought. Get inside. Get warm. Then figure out your next move.

You took one last look around the empty street before making your way toward the distant glow of the diner. You didn’t have many options left, but for now, it was better than freezing out here. Better than waiting to be found.

And as much as you hated to admit it, a part of you knew that time was running out.

The bell above the diner door let out a soft chime as you stepped inside, the warm air immediately wrapping around you like a blanket. You took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of coffee, fried food, and freshly baked bread. The fluorescent lights buzzed quietly overhead, casting a warm glow on the worn red booths and checkered floor tiles. A faint hum of conversation floated through the air, but the diner was far from crowded. Just a few late-night customers nursing cups of coffee or finishing off their meals.

You hesitated for a moment by the door, scanning the room. No familiar faces. No sign of Mephisto’s dark wings or any lurking shadows outside. Just regular people going about their lives. It felt… odd. You had been so consumed by fear and the need to keep moving that you’d almost forgotten what normalcy looked like.

“Come on in, hon,” a voice called out, breaking you from your thoughts.

Your eyes landed on an older woman standing behind the counter, wiping down a tray with practiced ease. Her short, curly hair was streaked with silver, and she wore a faded apron over her floral blouse. She had a kind smile, one that reached her eyes, though there was a hint of weariness in her expression—like someone who’d seen her share of long days and longer nights.

You managed a small, tired smile and made your way toward the counter, your legs feeling like lead beneath you. As you sat down on one of the stools, you noticed a name tag pinned to her apron: Clara.

Clara…You thought to yourself how her name almost rhymed with Tara. Your heart ached at the thought of your friend—of the life you had left behind. Tara had always been there for you, through thick and thin. You missed her more than you could put into words, but there was no going back now. That life was gone. All that mattered now was keeping your daughter safe.

“You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” Clara said, setting the tray aside and pouring you a fresh cup of coffee. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” you replied, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. You weren’t much of a coffee drinker these days, but the warmth felt good against your chilled fingers.

"Oh...uh. I can't have coffee. I'm pregnant" you say, eyeing the cup with an awkward smile.

Clara leaned on the counter, her eyes flicking briefly to your belly. “How far along are you?”

“Almost thirty eight weeks I think,” you answered, the words coming out quietly. “Almost there.”

She smiled gently. “ You can have a little coffee. It won't hurt the little one, I promise. Must be tough, traveling around at this stage. Most women would be resting up, nesting at home.”

You swallowed hard, the mention of a home cutting deeper than she probably intended. “Yeah…well, I don’t exactly have that luxury right now.”

Clara’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of quiet concern. She didn’t press, though, instead changing the subject. “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “Not yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just…I need a place that’s not in town. Somewhere out of the way.”

Clara studied you for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Then she gave a small nod, as if coming to a decision. “I might have something for you. I own some land some hours from here, got a little farmhouse on it. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s clean and quiet. You can rent it for a while if you’d like.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden offer. Suspicion flickered in your mind. You’d been on edge for so long, constantly looking over your shoulder, that trusting a stranger felt…dangerous. Especially after what you'd been through with Reese. But at the same time, what other choice did you have? You couldn’t stay in Brunswick for long. Sylus would find you. He always did.

“I don’t know…” you said hesitantly, glancing down at your coffee. “That’s…really kind of you, but…”

Clara waved a hand dismissively. “I get it. It’s not easy trusting people these days, especially when you’ve got a little one on the way. But I promise, I’m not looking to scam you or anything. I’ve got my own life back here in Brunswick—taking care of my sick father and running this place. The house is just sitting empty. Figured it might be of more use to you than to me.”

You still felt wary, but there was something genuine in her tone. She didn’t seem like someone who meant you harm. If anything, she seemed like someone who had simply lived long enough to know that sometimes, people just needed a little help.

“Okay,” you said quietly, meeting her eyes. “Thank you. I…really appreciate it.”

Clara smiled again, this time with warmth. “Good. Finish your coffee, and we’ll head out in a bit. Don’t worry about a thing—I’ve got some baby stuff at the cabin from when my daughter was little. You’re free to use whatever you need.”

The mention of baby supplies eased some of the tension in your chest. You hadn’t had time to think about those kinds of things yet, and knowing there would be something waiting for you at the cabin was a small relief.

Still, you couldn’t completely shake the suspicion lurking in the back of your mind. Don’t get too comfortable, you reminded yourself. Stay alert. If something feels off, use the gun if you have to. You can’t take any risks—not now.

As you finished your coffee, Clara grabbed her keys and coat, nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get you settled before it gets too late.”

You followed her out to the parking lot, where a beat-up old pickup truck waited. The seats were worn, and the faint smell of leather and pine filled the cab as you climbed inside. It wasn’t luxury by any means, but it was warm, and that was all that mattered right now.

As Clara started the engine, the soft rumble filling the cab, she glanced over at you. “Boy or girl?”

You hesitated for a split second, caught off guard by the simple question. You were still getting used to having normal conversations with people. It was honestly still super jarring.

“Girl,” you said softly, placing a hand on your belly. “I'm having a girl.”

Clara smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Girls are great. I always wanted another one, but…life had other plans.”

You managed a small smile in return, though the mention of family tugged at something deep inside you. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a future where things were different. A future where you didn’t have to keep running, where you could raise your daughter in peace. But the thought felt too distant, too fragile.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, save for the occasional hum of the tires against the road. As you gazed out the window at the darkened landscape, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this cabin could buy you some time.

But even as that thought crossed your mind, you kept your hand close to your coat pocket, fingers brushing against the cold metal of the gun. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down—not yet. Not until you were far, far away from Sylus.

The drive to the cabin took a few hours, passing through several small towns and quiet stretches of countryside. Clara’s truck rumbled steadily along the narrow roads, the soft hum of the engine blending with the occasional distant sound of crickets or rustling leaves. You watched the world blur by through the window, fields giving way to clusters of trees and then more open fields again. It was peaceful—eerily so. You hadn’t felt this kind of calm in what felt like forever, but it was hard to let your guard down entirely. Every passing mile felt like a gamble, as though Sylus could be right behind you, closing in fast.

“Brunswick and the towns around here are pretty close-knit,” Clara said, breaking the silence. She kept her eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel. “We’re technically neighbors, just a couple of hours apart, but you’ll notice right away how much quieter it is here. Folks mind their business.”

You nodded absently, clutching the coat tighter around you as your fingers brushed against the envelopes stuffed with cash. The warmth of the truck’s heater made the cold feel distant, but you couldn’t shake the tension knotting in your chest. You knew this peace wouldn’t last forever, but for now, you had to take what you could get.

Eventually, the truck slowed as Clara turned onto a long dirt road lined with overgrown trees and shrubs. After a few more minutes of driving, the house came into view—a small, quaint farmhouse nestled in a clearing. It wasn’t much, but it was worlds better than sleeping on a bench or wandering the streets aimlessly. The farmhouse was simple, with a pale yellow exterior and a modest porch that wrapped around the front. The roof looked sturdy, and the surrounding land stretched far enough that you felt a bit more secure, knowing you were far from prying eyes.

“Here we are,” Clara said, turning off the engine and stepping out of the truck. You followed her, your boots crunching softly against the gravel driveway as you took in your surroundings. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Despite the late hour, the sky was clear, stars scattered across the dark canvas above.

Clara led you up the steps and unlocked the door, pushing it open with a soft creak. “It’s small, but it’s cozy,” she said, stepping aside so you could enter first.

You walked in slowly, taking in the space. The interior was simple but welcoming—wooden floors, white walls, and modest furnishings that gave the place a warm, lived-in feel. The living area was combined with the kitchen, separated only by a small counter. A single hallway led to what you assumed was the bathroom and bedroom.

As Clara guided you through the place, you found yourself comparing it to the one Xavier had hidden you in. This place was larger, more open, less like a prison and more like…a temporary home. You didn’t want to think about Xavier right now, though. Shaking off the thought, you focused instead on the framed pictures lining the hallway walls—Clara and what you assumed was her daughter, smiling brightly in various candid moments.

“Where’s your daughter?” you asked, your eyes lingering on one photo of a little girl holding a stuffed bear.

“Oh, she’s with her father in the big cities,” Clara replied, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place. “I get so busy with my father and the diner, I figured she could use some time with her dad, y’know?”

You nodded, following her into the bedroom. It was simple, with a single bed pushed against the wall, a small dresser, and a window overlooking the back of the property. “It’s not much, but it’ll fit two people,” Clara said, standing by the door. She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Not saying you have to stay here when you have your baby or anything, but…the offer’s there.”

You turned to her, feeling a pang of gratitude. “I really appreciate it, Miss Clara. Thank you.”

Clara gave you a soft smile and nodded. “Come on. Let me show you where I keep the baby stuff.”

She led you to a small storage room at the end of the hall. Inside were neatly stored baby items—an old crib, bottles, blankets, and a few onesies folded on a shelf. “All clean, just so you know,” Clara said, running a hand over the crib’s wooden frame. “I kept them for the memories, but they’re yours to use if you want.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. This woman—a complete stranger—was offering you so much kindness when she had no reason to. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

“One more thing, hun,” Clara said as she closed the storage room door. “I can’t be driving hours back and forth to visit, so you’ll be on your own for days at a time. Gotta save on gas. But I’ll bring enough food when you give me the money. I’ll even drop by tomorrow with some supplies to get you started. I hope that’s okay?”

You nodded, feeling strangely grateful for the privacy. “That’s fine. I… appreciate it. Really.”

Clara smiled again, though there was a hint of weariness in her eyes. “I just know how it feels,” she said softly. “Couldn’t leave a pregnant woman alone at night, not when she’s about to pop.”

Her words made you smile, despite the tension still coiled in your chest. You followed her back to the living area, where she picked up her coat and keys, preparing to leave. But before she did, you remembered something important.

“What if there’s an emergency?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry. “How can I get back to town?”

“Oh!” Clara said, pausing by the door. “I’ve got my father’s old car parked out back. Keys are in the drawer by the kitchen. He doesn’t use it anymore since he lost his vision, so I figured I’d store it here. If you know how to drive, you’re free to use it. I won’t restrict your freedom.”

You stared at her, at a loss for words. The idea of having a way to escape, even if you didn’t plan on using it right away, was a relief you hadn’t expected. “Thank you. I…I don’t know what to say.”

Clara chuckled softly. “You don’t have to say anything, hun. Just take care of yourself and that baby, okay?”

With that, she gave you one last smile before stepping outside and disappearing into the night, leaving you standing in the middle of the house. The weight of everything hit you at once—exhaustion, relief, fear, hope. You were truly on your own now. Just you and your daughter. But for the first time in a long while, it felt like you might actually have a chance.

Still, you couldn’t let your guard down. You made a mental note to check the car first thing in the morning and keep your gun within reach at all times. Sylus was out there, and you knew he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

But tonight, at least, you could rest. Just for a little while.

The days passed quietly, a welcome change from the chaos you had left behind. True to her word, Clara brought food and supplies as promised, enough to keep you comfortable without needing to venture back into town. You had begun to settle into the rhythm of this temporary refuge, grateful for the space to breathe and the chance to rest, though your mind remained vigilant.

Clara had been surprisingly accommodating, asking few questions and never prying into your past. You supposed you should be relieved by her discretion, but a small, nagging voice in the back of your mind kept whispering that this peace couldn’t last. Nothing ever does.

The deal you struck with her was almost too good to be true—$500 a month to cover everything, including the gas for her weekly visits. You were shocked by how cheap it was, but you didn’t question it. At the very least, it bought you time. Time to think, time to prepare. And most importantly, time to figure out your next move without Sylus breathing down your neck.

The place itself was simple but cozy, and the lack of modern technology was oddly comforting. No cameras for Sylus to hack into, no smart devices that could be traced. Even the old television in the living room had antennas that required frequent adjustment to pick up a signal. It felt like stepping into a different era, one where things were slower, simpler…and harder to find.

On the morning Clara arrived with her brother to clear out some old boxes from the garage, you were sipping on a cup of lukewarm tea when you heard it—a shrill caw that sent a jolt of fear straight through your chest. You froze, your hand tightening around the mug as your heart began to race. The sound was unmistakable.

It can’t be…It can’t be.

“Hey, what’s wrong, hun?” Clara’s voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. She nudged your shoulder gently, giving you a puzzled look. “It’s just a crow. You scared of ’em?”

You forced a laugh, trying to mask the rising panic in your chest. “Oh, um…I guess you could say so. Something like that.” You tried to sound casual, but your voice wavered slightly, betraying your nerves.

Clara didn’t seem to notice. She simply chuckled and went back to sorting through the boxes with her brother. Meanwhile, you set down the mug and moved toward the window, your eyes scanning the treetops outside. There, perched on a high branch, was a small murder of crows. They looked normal enough—just ordinary birds, not mechanical scouts sent to track you down.

You let out a slow, shaky breath, relief washing over you in waves. Not Mephisto. Just regular crows. You’re safe…for now.

“We’re heading back to town now, dear,” Clara called out from the front door, dusting off her hands. “You stay safe, alright? If you need anything, there’s a landline in the kitchen. I left my number on the counter. Call me if there’s an emergency.”

You forced a smile, waving as they loaded the last box into the truck. “Thanks, Clara. See you in about a week.”

“Take care, hun!” Clara said cheerfully, climbing into the driver’s seat while her brother waved from the passenger side. You watched as the truck rumbled down the long dirt road, disappearing into the distance. The sound of the engine faded, leaving only the quiet rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds in its wake.

Alone again.

You stood on the porch for a moment, staring out at the trees that surrounded the cabin. The air was still, almost unnervingly so. Despite the warmth of the morning sun, a chill crept down your spine. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming—something you couldn’t see yet but could almost sense, like the calm before a storm.

Nevertheless, you pushed the thought aside and headed back inside. Focus. That’s all you could do. Keep moving forward, keep surviving.

Clara had brought some loose-fitting women’s clothes with her last visit, simple but comfortable. You changed into a clean set, grateful to be out of your old, worn clothes. They weren’t stylish by any means—mostly oversized shirts and stretchy pants—but they fit, and that was all that mattered. You appreciated that Clara hadn’t pried into your situation. She truly seemed to mind her own business, something you couldn’t help but admire.

Still, you couldn’t completely relax. There had to be a catch, right? No one was this kind without wanting something in return. But Clara didn’t seem the type to harbor ulterior motives. Maybe she was just… genuinely good. The thought felt foreign, almost strange, after everything you’d been through. People like Clara didn’t exist in the world you had grown accustomed to—Sylus’s world. A world where kindness was a tool, a means to an end, and trust was a currency far too expensive to spend lightly.

You paced the small living room, the floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet. Your gaze wandered to the pictures on the wall again—Clara and her daughter, smiling in various snapshots. A life untouched by the kind of chaos you were running from. It made you wonder what kind of life your daughter would have if you managed to escape Sylus for good. Would she grow up in peace, free from the shadow of danger and control?

You pressed a hand to your belly, feeling the faint stir of movement beneath your palm. Maybe giving her up and leaving would still be the better plan? How far would you have to go to ensure her safety if you did give her up?

Just a little longer, baby girl. We’ll figure this out.

For now, all you could do was wait and hope that Sylus was still far behind.

The days stretched long and quiet, the silence of your new reality gnawing at you. It had been a few days since you last saw Clara or anyone else, and honestly, the loneliness was getting to you. You had never experienced true isolation like this before. Back at Sylus’s estate, even when he wasn’t there, the house had been full—staff moving about, the twins keeping watch, and Mephisto always lurking nearby. Eyes were always on you. You had grown used to it, almost dependent on the constant presence of others, no matter how suffocating it could feel.

But here? It was just you and your unborn daughter, and the weight of that solitude pressed heavily on your chest.

You tried to keep yourself busy, filling the hours with mundane tasks—cleaning, bathing, and eating in front of the small, outdated TV. The channels didn’t pick up much, mostly local news and a few old sitcoms that barely held your attention. Still, the static hum of the television provided some background noise, breaking the oppressive silence of the cabin.

Occasionally, you would spot a few barn cats prowling around the lawn outside. Their sleek forms darted through the tall grass, hunting bugs and mice. You started leaving scraps of your dinner for them whenever they came close, hoping they might stay a while. But they never did. They always ate quickly before disappearing into the shadows again, leaving you alone once more.

The loneliness had a way of making your mind wander. You caught yourself staring at nothing for long stretches of time, lost in thought. Sylus has to still be looking for me…right? Or maybe he already found me and hasn’t made his move yet…?

A more sinister thought crept into your mind: What if Clara was part of a trap?

You frowned, turning onto your side and staring at the ceiling. The possibility gnawed at you, but you tried to push it away. Clara had been kind, patient, and genuine—nothing like the calculated manipulations of Sylus’s world. Still, the paranoia lingered, refusing to fully dissipate.

You let out a bitter laugh, covering your eyes with one hand. “Wow… I’ve really lost it,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head. You had never been this paranoid in your life. But then again, you had never been this alone before. And on top of that, you still had to give birth. The thought alone was terrifying.

You knew labor was supposed to hurt, but how much? Would you even make it to a hospital in time if something went wrong? What if Clara didn’t come back when she said she would? You tried to keep calm, but the fear was always there, lurking in the back of your mind like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

Clenching your fists, you closed your eyes and focused, willing the faint yellow sparks of your Evol to flicker to life in your palm. They appeared slowly, crackling softly like static electricity before fading away again. You stared at your hand in mild disbelief. It’s been ages since I used this…

Your Evol wasn’t exactly built for combat. It wasn’t like Sylus’s raw, destructive power or Xavier’s light-based weaponry. No, yours was subtle—an ability to enhance the strength of others’ Evols, amplifying their power when you resonated with them. It was useful in the right situations, but utterly useless when it came to defending yourself.

Would it have made a difference if I had used it back then? you wondered, your mind drifting back to the fight between Sylus and Xavier. You had frozen, standing there like a helpless child, too overwhelmed to act. Even if you had resonated with Xavier in that moment, would it have been enough? Or would it have just pushed your heart beyond its limits?

You sighed deeply, placing your hands on your belly, feeling the reassuring movement of your daughter within. “We’ve got to figure this out, kiddo,” you whispered softly, rubbing slow circles over your bump. “I’m scared too, but we can’t let it stop us. We’ll get through this. Somehow.”

But even as you tried to reassure yourself, doubt crept in. You didn’t have a plan. You didn’t know what came next. All you had was a temporary roof over your head and a growing fear that Sylus was closer than you dared to believe.

You stared at the ceiling again, your thoughts swirling in endless circles. How much longer do we have before he finds us? You didn’t know. But what you did know was that you couldn’t stay paralyzed by fear. You had to be ready. For whatever came next. You kept the gun under your pillow.

You definitely weren't afraid to use it.

The ache in your chest had been steadily worsening, and with every passing minute, it became harder to ignore. You paced the cabin, one hand clutching your belly while the other pressed against your sternum, hoping the pain would subside. Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s Protocore Syndrome acting up again, you thought, grimacing. It had been worse whenever Sylus wasn’t around, but you refused to entertain the idea that it had anything to do with missing him. That was absurd.

Still, the pain was getting to be too much. You needed something—anything—to ease the discomfort. Maybe Clara could help. You rushed over to the landline, your fingers trembling as you dialed her number. The phone rang once…twice…and then clicked.

“Ah, hello! Sorry to bother, but my chest really hurts. Do you think you could—”

“Your chest?” The voice on the other end wasn’t Clara’s. It was smooth, familiar, and unmistakable. “What’s wrong, kitten?”

You froze.

The phone nearly slipped from your grasp as your heart skipped a beat. For a moment, you were too stunned to speak, your mind reeling in disbelief. Sylus. How the hell did he…?

“Cat got your tongue?” Sylus’s voice came through again, softer this time, but laced with concern.

Your shock quickly turned into rage, the heat rising in your chest overpowering the ache. “Leave me the fuck alone!” you snapped, gripping the receiver tightly, your voice trembling with anger. “I swear to God, if you come near me—”

“Now, now, don’t yell,” Sylus said gently, his voice carrying that maddening calm. “It’s not good for your heart. I’m just calling to see how you’re doing. It seems you’ve hidden in a place even I can’t find. You could make this easy and just tell me where you are, sweetie. I’m worried.”

Your mouth went dry, and anger flared in your chest, momentarily pushing the fear aside. Worried? How dare he. After everything he had done—after everything you had been through because of him—he had the audacity to sound concerned?

“Ha!” you spat, your voice trembling with both fury and disbelief. “As if…why would I willingly throw myself into another one of your punishments?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, long enough for your heartbeat to fill the void in your ears. You expected him to snap back, to grow angry, but when Sylus finally spoke, his voice was softer than before, almost…tender.

“Honey,” he said quietly, as if trying to soothe a frightened animal. “Do you honestly think I’m going to punish you? I just want you to be safe. You’re about to give birth, and you running away doesn’t anger me. I only care about you and our daughter.”

You clenched your jaw, your grip on the receiver tightening. His words might have sounded genuine, but you knew better. You had to know better. He always knew exactly what to say to make you second-guess yourself, to plant that tiny seed of doubt in your mind.

“No,” you said coldly, refusing to let yourself fall for it. “If you really cared, you’d leave me alone.”

Sylus didn’t respond immediately, but you could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the line, a subtle reminder that he was still there—still looming over your life, even from miles away.

“I can’t do that,” he said after a long pause, his voice filled with quiet determination. “You’re mine, kitten. I’ll always come for you.”

"You fucking basta-"

“I just want to know if you’re taking care of yourself,” Sylus interrupted gently, his tone calm, almost soothing. “Landlines are a lot harder to track, y’know. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have your location, so don’t panic or get yourself worked up. I just know a few tricks…and happened to get lucky.”

His words made you bristle even more. Lucky? How dare he act like this is just some game?

There was a brief pause on the line before Sylus continued, his voice quieter now. “Are you eating? How’s the baby?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The nerve of this bastard, calling you like this, pretending to care—acting concerned when he was the reason you were in this mess in the first place. Rage bubbled up in your chest, your grip tightening on the phone until your knuckles turned white.

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice shaking with emotion. “I’m alive, aren’t I? That’s all you care about, right?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and you imagined Sylus leaning back wherever he was, thinking carefully before responding. “That’s not true,” he said softly. “I care about more than that. I care about you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. His words, as soft and gentle as they were, only made things worse. He had always known how to twist your emotions, how to play the part of the concerned lover even when he was the source of your pain. And yet, a small part of you hated how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wished things were different.

“You don’t get to do this,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less sharp. “You don’t get to act like you care after everything you’ve done. Just…leave me alone.”

There was another pause, longer this time. When Sylus spoke again, his tone was careful, measured. “I already said I can’t do that, kitten. You know I can’t. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, I am,” you bit out. “Now stop calling me.”

“I won’t call again, if that’s what you want,” Sylus said gently. “But you should know…I’ll still be looking. And I will find you. Not to hurt you, but because I want to protect you. To be there for you. You and our daughter.”

You couldn’t hold back the bitter laugh that escaped your lips. “Protect me? From what? You’re the only threat I need protection from, Sylus.”

His voice remained steady, though you thought you detected a hint of sadness in it. “Believe what you want. But if something happens, call me. Please. You have this number.”

In a fit of rage you slammed the phone back into the receiver, gripping the phone with trembling hands. You stared at it for a long moment, your mind spinning in a whirlwind of emotions—fear, anger, confusion.

I will find you.

Sylus always had a way of getting under your skin, of making you doubt yourself even when you knew you shouldn’t. And now, with his words lingering in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel the ache in your chest worsen, as though the weight of his presence still hung over you, even from miles away.

With a shaky breath, sank down onto the nearest chair, cradling your belly. Focus. Breathe. You have to keep moving forward. You can’t let him win.

How easy was it to trace the owner of a landline number? Did phonebooks still exist? Would he find Clara and threaten her? Fuck you felt like you were spiraling now. Hearing his voice made your heart beat erratically and you began to sob. Deep down, you knew that Sylus wasn’t going to give up. And the terrifying part? You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep running.

The decision had been weighing on you for days, but you finally made up your mind. You couldn’t stay here any longer. As much as you had come to appreciate Clara’s kindness, staying would only put her in danger. It made you sad—Clara didn’t deserve any of this, and a part of you hated that your life had brought chaos to her quiet little world. Still, it was for the best. You had to keep moving, keep running, and leaving meant ensuring she wouldn’t get caught in Sylus’s grasp.

You sat on the edge of the bed that night, checking the bullets in the gun Luke had so carelessly left behind. Six bullets. It’s not enough… but it’s enough, you thought grimly. Enough to slow Sylus down, enough to at least make a statement before he dragged you back to your gilded cage.

Setting the gun down on the nightstand, you lay back on the bed, trying to relax. But sleep didn’t come easily. Every time you closed your eyes, the same thoughts played over and over in your mind—Sylus’s voice on the phone, his promises, his relentless pursuit. You tossed and turned, anxiety gnawing at you, until exhaustion finally claimed you.

You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep when a sudden crash jolted you awake.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you sat up, wide-eyed and disoriented. The sound had come from the backyard—a loud, metallic clatter that sent a chill down your spine. Shit, did he find you already?

Grabbing the gun, you crept toward the back of the farmhouse, every step deliberate and silent. The cold night air seeped through the cracks in the windows, and the shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should. As you reached the back door, you peered out through the glass, your breath hitching at the sight before you.

It wasn’t Sylus.

It was something far worse.

A Wanderer.

And not just any Wanderer—a Sawshredder. Its hulking form loomed in the moonlight, leathery wings spread wide, jagged metallic edges glinting ominously. Its eyes gleamed with an unnatural light, and its claws dug deep into the earth as it stalked closer to the house.

You didn’t have time to think. Raising the gun, you fired two shots. The bullets hit their mark, causing the creature to screech in pain, a shrill, metallic wail that echoed through the night. But the shots weren’t enough to stop it.

Shit. Shit. Panic surged through you as you realized the house wouldn’t hold up for long. The Sawshredder was already clawing at the walls, tearing through wood and shingles with terrifying ease. You couldn’t stay. You had to run.

Without another thought, you bolted out the front door, the cold night air biting at your skin. You ran as fast as your swollen belly would allow, each step a painful reminder of how close you were to giving birth. The forest loomed ahead, dark and dense, but it was your only chance. If you could lose the creature in the trees, you might survive.

But the Wanderer was fast. Too fast.

Its heavy footsteps pounded behind you, and you could hear its labored breathing as it closed in. You stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to keep going. The pain in your belly was worsening, sharp and relentless, but you didn’t dare stop. Not yet.

Then, it happened.

Your foot caught on a root, and you went down hard, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. You tried to scramble to your feet, but the Wanderer was already there, looming over you, its eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

You raised the gun again, but your fingers trembled as you pulled the trigger—nothing. Empty. The gun clicked uselessly in your hand.

Is this really how it ends? you thought, despair washing over you in heavy waves, each one more crushing than the last. You were too tired to fight anymore, too weak to keep running. The cold, damp forest floor beneath you felt like the only certainty left, and as your body trembled with exhaustion, you knew you couldn’t move another inch. The pain in your belly was unbearable, your breath came in short, ragged gasps, and the icy fingers of fear wrapped tightly around your heart.

You closed your eyes, your mind racing through flashes of memories—Tara’s warm laughter, Clara’s kind smile, Xavier’s gentle gaze, and Sylus…Sylus’s haunting voice, the way he had always loomed over your life like an inescapable shadow. All those moments, all the twists and turns, had led you here, to this dark, terrifying forest, alone and hunted. I’m sorry… The words echoed in your mind, meant for everyone you had ever cared about. You were sorry for failing them, sorry for not being strong enough.

And then…

A strange silence fell over the forest.

The pounding of the Sawshredder’s heavy footsteps stopped abruptly, the screech of its metallic wings fading into the night. Confused, you hesitantly opened your eyes, expecting to see the creature lunging at you—but it wasn’t. Instead, it stood motionless just a few feet away, its massive form looming in the pale moonlight.

You watched, breath caught in your throat, as the Sawshredder’s eyes began to dilate and contract rapidly, almost like it was struggling to process something. The faint glow in its eyes flickered erratically, as though its circuits—or whatever unnatural mechanism kept it alive—had been scrambled.

It didn’t make sense.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed in your ears. The Sawshredder’s gaze, once filled with predatory intent, now seemed…unfocused. Confused. As if something had broken its singular drive to hunt you down.

Then, its gaze shifted downward—toward your belly.

You froze, too terrified to even breathe. The baby kicked wildly inside you, a flurry of frantic movements that seemed to intensify the longer the creature stared. The Sawshredder tilted its head slightly, the eerie metallic sheen of its eyes reflecting the faint glow of the moon. It took a single step closer, its jagged claws scraping against the ground with a shrill metallic screech.

Your pulse spiked, fear gripping you tighter than ever before. You instinctively placed a protective hand over your belly, feeling your daughter’s strong kicks beneath your palm. She was moving more than ever, as if reacting to the creature’s presence, or sensing the danger surrounding you both.

But the Sawshredder didn’t attack.

It simply stood there, its breathing heavy and erratic, each exhale releasing a faint plume of vapor into the cold night air. Its eyes remained locked on your belly, flickering in a way that was almost… reverent. Almost as if it could sense something—something beyond what you could comprehend.

Why isn’t it attacking? The thought raced through your mind, wild and desperate. It didn’t make any sense. This creature had chased you relentlessly, tearing through the forest with single-minded intent, and yet now…it was hesitating.

Seconds stretched into what felt like hours as you remained frozen in place, too terrified to move, too confused to understand what was happening. The Sawshredder took one last, lingering look at your belly, then slowly began to back away. Its heavy wings rustled as it folded them tightly against its body, and with a final, labored breath, it turned around.

And walked away.

Just like that.

You stared in disbelief as the creature disappeared into the shadows of the forest, its massive form blending seamlessly with the darkness. The tension in your body refused to ease, your muscles locked in place as you tried to process what had just happened.

What the hell was that?

You gasped for air, each breath shaky and uneven as your heart thundered in your chest. Relief came in a sudden, overwhelming wave, leaving you trembling as the realization sank in—you were alive. Somehow, against all odds, you had survived. In all your years of being a Hunter, never had a Wanderer just left like that.

But the moment of relief was short-lived.

A sharp, searing pain tore through your abdomen, doubling you over as a cry of agony escaped your lips. You clutched your belly, the pain unlike anything you had ever felt before—intense, all-consuming, as though your entire body was being wrenched apart from the inside.

No, no, no…not now. Please, not now.

Panic set in as you realized what was happening. The stress, the fear, the running—it had triggered something. Contractions. Early labor.

Tears blurred your vision as you leaned against a nearby tree, your fingers digging into the bark for support. “Please… just hold on,” you whispered desperately, your voice shaking. “Just give me more time…”

But the pain didn’t stop. Another contraction hit, even stronger than the last, and you cried out, sinking to your knees. The cold ground bit into your skin, but it was nothing compared to the unbearable ache radiating from your core.

You couldn’t stay out here. You had to get back to the farmhouse, had to find a way to call Clara, to get help before it was too late. Forcing yourself to your feet, you took a shaky step forward, then another, each movement agonizing.

“Come on…just a little further,” you whispered through gritted teeth, willing yourself to keep going. The farmhouse wasn’t far. You could make it. You had to make it.

But as you stumbled forward, another wave of pain hit, and the world around you blurred. Time was running out, and deep down, you knew…this was only the beginning.

You barely managed to stumble through the farmhouse door, each step a monumental effort as the sharp, searing pain in your abdomen refused to relent. Every contraction felt like a tidal wave crashing through your body, dragging you under, leaving you gasping and trembling. You clung to the walls for support, your breaths coming in ragged, shallow bursts, sweat dripping down your brow and soaking your clothes.

By the time you reached the bedroom, you were crying openly, tears of pain and fear blurring your vision. You collapsed onto the bed, clutching your belly as another contraction tore through you, this one stronger than the last. The intensity of it left you breathless, your mind reeling as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

This can’t be right. It’s too soon. It’s not supposed to happen like this… Panic gripped you tightly, but there was no time to dwell on it. Your body was taking over, forcing you to surrender to the primal, all-consuming process of labor.

Your trembling hands reached down, struggling to remove your pants and underwear, every movement slow and labored. The fabric clung to your sweat-drenched skin, and each second felt like an eternity. The ache in your lower back was relentless, a dull, throbbing pain that radiated through your entire body, while your abdomen tightened with excruciating pressure.

It hurts… oh God, it hurts so much… You clenched your teeth, trying to brace yourself for the next wave of pain, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer intensity of it. It felt as though your body was being torn apart from the inside, a searing, burning sensation that left you shaking uncontrollably.

Time lost all meaning. All you could do was endure, ride the pain as it surged through you, again and again. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you found yourself gasping for air, desperate for relief that wouldn’t come.

Is something wrong? The thought crept into your mind, but it was quickly drowned out by another agonizing contraction. You tried to focus, tried to gather your thoughts, but it was impossible. The pain was too much, too overwhelming, and your body felt like it was spiraling out of your control.

Your vision swam, dark spots dancing at the edges of your sight. You felt a strange mix of pressure and burning, as though something was shifting deep inside you. A part of you knew that this was it—your daughter was coming, ready or not—but the terror that accompanied that realization was almost paralyzing.

“I can’t… I can’t do this…” you whispered through gritted teeth, tears streaming down your face as another contraction wracked your body, stealing what little strength you had left.

The world around you blurred further, sounds and sensations becoming distant, muted. You tried to hold on, tried to stay conscious, but your body had reached its limit. The pain, the fear, the exhaustion—it was all too much.

As the darkness closed in around you, your last conscious thought was a desperate plea. Please… let her be okay. Just let my baby be okay…

And then everything went black.

The sound of crying pierced through the thick fog clouding your mind. It was shrill, insistent, and ear-splitting, cutting through the haze of exhaustion and pain like a blade. You stirred, feeling like your entire body had been reduced to jello, heavy and useless. Where…?

Your vision blurred as you blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Slowly, shapes came into focus, and then—there she was.

Your daughter.

Writhing and crying on the hardwood floor between your legs, tiny limbs flailing, her little face scrunched up in distress. Shit. A surge of panic shot through you. How long had you been out? Minutes? Hours? You had no way of knowing, but it didn’t matter. She was here, and she was alive.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” you whispered, voice trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. You forced your groggy mind into action, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Your limbs felt sluggish, weak, but you pushed through it, reaching down to scoop up the wailing newborn. She was slick with fluids and blood, her tiny body warm and fragile in your shaking hands.

Your heart pounded as you stumbled around the room, searching desperately for something—anything—to wrap her in. Your fingers finally found a blanket draped over the armrest of a chair. You clumsily wrapped her up, hands fumbling as you tried to keep her secure despite the mess covering both of you. Blood, sweat, and other fluids clung to your skin, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the tiny life in your arms.

Is this right? Am I doing this right? You wrapped her as best as you could, securing the edges even though your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She continued to cry, her tiny face scrunched up, and you didn’t know what to do.

You sat heavily on the couch, holding her close—not out of instinct, but because you didn’t know what else to do. The room felt too big, too cold, too…surreal. Everything about this moment felt off, like you were trapped in some bizarre dream you couldn’t wake up from.

The crying didn’t stop, and a wave of helplessness washed over you. What now? What am I supposed to do? You had no idea how to soothe a baby. You didn’t know what she needed, or if she was okay. All you could do was rock her awkwardly, whispering soft nonsense in a trembling voice.

“Shh…it’s okay…” you said, your voice wavering as you tried to calm her. You weren’t sure if babies even liked being rocked, but it seemed to help a little. Her cries softened into whimpers, though she continued to squirm in your arms.

She was so small, yet somehow bigger than you had expected. Her tiny fingers peeked out from the blanket, curling and uncurling as if testing the air around her. You could see tufts of hair already sprouting on her head, the same shade as yours. You stared at her, taking in every little feature, every little detail—the curve of her nose, the shape of her cheeks. She looked so much like you.

And yet…

You couldn’t help but notice the traces of Sylus in her face, subtle but undeniable. The shape of her eyes, the faint curve of her chin, the shape of her lips. As much as you wanted to ignore it, there he was, etched into her tiny features. She looked...human? No giant claws or green skin. It relieved you. Was Sylus just human then? He couldn't be...not after-

To your surprise, she whimpered, her tiny eyes fluttering open for the first time. You froze, heart stopping in your chest as you caught a glimpse of her gaze.

A crimson red, just like his. Milky and unfocused, as all newborns’ eyes were, but unmistakably red nonetheless.

Your breath caught in your throat, and tears welled up in your eyes again. Not from joy, not from fear—just from sheer, overwhelming disbelief.

This is real. She’s real.

But instead of feeling the rush of love or relief you thought you might feel, all you could manage was a numb sort of bewilderment. You didn’t know how to process it. Everything about this moment felt… wrong. Off. Like you were too far removed from it to truly feel anything.

You weren’t ready for this.

You hadn’t been ready for any of it.

Tears streamed down your face as you stared at her, your emotions too tangled to make sense of. You didn’t feel joy. You didn’t feel relief. You didn’t feel disgust or anger or fear.

You felt…shock.

Nothing but pure shock.

Months of suffering. Months of pain, of running, of hiding, of fighting. All of it had led to this moment. To this tiny, fragile life in your arms. Its not like you hated her. How could you truly hate an innocent baby in all this? But this was all surreal. It had happened so fast you couldn't process it.

You rocked her mechanically, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. “You just came out of me,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “This is fucking crazy…”

Your daughter whimpered again, her tiny fingers twitching beneath the blanket. You watched her with wide, tired eyes, still too dazed to comprehend what had just happened. You had given birth. Alone. In a strange farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. And now, here you were—holding your daughter, with no idea what to do next.

“I…I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted softly, your voice breaking as more tears fell. “I don’t know how to do this…I'm sorry.”

She didn’t answer, of course. She just continued to breathe, her little chest rising and falling steadily, her tiny hand curling against the fabric of the blanket. She was here. She was real. And for now, that was all that mattered truly.

But even as you held her, a deep, gnawing fear crept into your chest.

What now?

Would Sylus find you? Would he take her from you? Would you even survive long enough to figure out how to be a mother? You didn’t have answers to any of those questions, and the uncertainty was crushing.

For now, though, you were alive. And so was she. All you could do now was figure all of this out. To survive.

And somehow, that would have to be enough.

[myfictionaldreams]

so glad you’re back! happy new year!! please could you write poly!marauders where reader is feeling clingy and needy in the evening? like she’s just melting into the boys, wearing their clothes and they love every second if it.

Not Today, Please. // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: Why is it fair that every month, you have to experience agony for multiple days at a time? The boys hate seeing you suffer with your period and take it upon yourself to try and make you as comfortable as possible.

Requested by: I've mixed together a request from this lovely anon & @f1ct1onallove. Thank you both for your requests!

Tags: 18+ readers only, minimal smut, fluff, domestic bliss, menstruation, magical orgasm, comfort, kissing/cuddling, overall just cuteness

Words: 2.9k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

It was an off day. It was normal. Everyone experienced them from time to time.

Today. You felt like complete and utter shit.

There wasn’t a major catastrophe that had happened for your day to be going this negatively, a surprising thought considering that you’re attending Hogwarts, which seemed to be renowned for its trouble occasionally. To be truthful, you were experiencing a mundane situation.

You’d started your period the day before. It was a typical event for those with a uterus. However, it was your second day of ‘hell’, which was usually your worst.

Agonising pain stemming from your abdomen, creeping to the muscles down your thighs, followed up nausea and exhaustion, irritability, and hunger that never seemed to fade, no matter the amount of food scoffed. Not to mention the absolute chaos from the blood that was lost that left you feeling in a constant state of dirty and ill.

Yet, despite all of this, life was expected to continue. Unfortunately, this included attending lessons, sitting in uncomfortable desks and chairs, and walking from one end of the immense castle to the next with minimal time to stop for breaks and lunch.

Sometimes, you cursed the fact that you were born with a uterus, and then the second you ceased bleeding, you were back to normal, but those few days were the pure definition of Hell.

One small detail to note was that, of course, you attend the hospital wing and have Madam Pomfrey create a concoction to aid with all of your symptoms. However, after attempting this multiple times, the only potion strong enough to work made you feel zoned out, disorientated and useless for the rest of the day. It was great before bed, but it did not mix well with tasks on a day-to-day basis.

This all leads to your current predicament of standing in a hidden corridor in the castle. Only a single lamp illuminated the cobweb-ridden walls. Not that you were paying attention to this, as your eyes were firmly shit. All you were concentrating on was controlling your breathing as another wave of pain flared in your abdomen.

Swaying on the spot, your fingers pressed firmly into the area that hurt, hoping to massage the ache away, but the way that your nose began to tingle with the threat of the tears building behind your closed eyes, nothing seemed to be helping.

One more lesson, that was all you had left for the day. Charms with Professor Flitwick and being the model student, it would be noted if you decided to skip. Instead, you chose to take these last few minutes before class to try and cope with the pain before sitting for the next hour in the same seat.

Another cramp ached through your lower body, causing your knees to tremble as you tried to do anything but fall to the floor.

A shuffle from the far end of the corridor had your pulse racing and nose sniffing as you tried to control your emotions, forcing the fake mask into place before anyone saw it.

Leaning away from the wall you were facing, you turned and immediately bumped face-first into a firm chest. The calming cedarwood scent notified you whose arms surrounded your back, a hand cradling your head soothingly as small circles were drawn on your lower back.

“I need to get better at this hide-and-seek game”, you try and joke as you tightly grip the back of his sweater, breathing him in entirely as the top of his head rests on yours.

Remus’ chest vibrates as he laughs under his breath, holding you tighter. “Maybe we should pick a better game, considering I have a little help in my back pocket”. Frowning, your fingers slip lower until they’re cupping his arse, half groping, half feeling for what he was referring to until you feel the parchment paper.

“That’s cheating using the Marauders Map to find me”, you muse whilst tilting your face up to look up at him. Remus always towered over you; even when you decided to dress up in heels, he continued to be the tallest in the room. Remus’ kind green eyes softened as he looked down at you, the hand cupping the back of your head and sliding to hold the side of your face.

“I’m worried about you”, he admits, cutting right to the chase. “I know you’re in pain, and I hate that you feel like you have to hide it”. You couldn’t help but sigh, knowing there was nothing that you could hide from either of your boyfriends.

“It’s not that I’m trying to hide anything; I just needed a minute to compose myself before class. Speaking of which, we are going to be late- Ah”, the gasp of pain is slipping out before you’re able to clamp your mouth shut. Resting your head against his chest, he holds you close whilst you wait for the pain to ease.

“Sorry, it’s easing slightly now. We can carry on,” you explain, pulling away from him to take his hand with the intention of continuing to class.

However, you’re pulled back as your boyfriend stands still, looking at you with a positive twink in his eyes that had you both weary and intrigued. “Firstly, never apologise for being in pain. Secondly, the class has been cancelled; that’s another reason why I’ve come to find you.”

“Class is never cancelled, what’s happened?”

Remus finally begins to move, only stepping toe to toe with you. “Something about Flitwick being unwell. I’m not sure, but we have other plans now”.

You aren’t sure whether to be buzzing with relief that you are expected to go to your last class of the day or be concerned with the plans Remus and the others have. The Gryffindor parties that your boyfriends and friends put on were infamous throughout the castle for how wild they were, but today, all you wanted to do was rot in bed with some chocolate and preferably your boyfriends wrapped around you.

Remus sensed your trepidation and lifted his free hand to tip your chin towards him, “Don’t look so worried. I promise you’ll like it. Come on”.

Reluctantly, you follow with one arm wrapped around your abdomen as Remus holds firmly onto your hands, and your thumb absentmindedly rubs over the thin silver scars on the back of his hands. It didn’t take long before you realised the area of the destination was the Room of Requirement. The longer you walked, the more you found yourself leaning into him, savouring his warm and firm grip on your hand until you were aware of how needy you appeared. Still, Remus didn’t seem to mind and occasionally leaned down to kiss the top of your head affectionally. 

As the two of you approached the room of requirement, you paused and said, “Wait, I’m not sure I want to go to a party tonight, Remus. Could we please go back to the common room? Or could I just go and wait for you guys in bed?”

Remus gives you a reassuring smile, pulling the two of you along the corridor before stopping by a door as it materialises in the wall. “I promise you’ll love this”.

Still filled with uncertainty and expecting loud music and shouting from a crowd, you’re pleasantly surprised when you’re welcomed into the most comfortable-looking room you’ve ever seen. Jazz played at a quiet volume from somewhere in the corner, and a raging fire thoroughly warmed the room covered in pillows, blankets, armchairs, and stools.

Your jaw hung open as you admired every inch of the room, your eyes lingering on the ceiling as you admired, “Is the ceiling made of glass?” As you stared at the sky, your eyes widened, a beautiful orange and red hue like a sunset.

“Not quite”, James began as he appeared from under a pile of purple fluffy blankets, his cheeks blushed with rose and lips plump as Sirius sat up too, looking just as dishevelled. “It’s the same spell used in the Great Hall; it just reflects the sky outside”.

“It’s beautiful”, you muse, stepping further into the room and releasing Remus’ hand as he shuts the door behind you. “Who did this? That’s pretty advanced magic - Ah!” You squeal in surprise as you’re taken off your feet and spun around on the spot.

“Merlin, be careful with her prongs!” You hear Sirius chastise as he, too, approaches, but you don’t mind James’ antics as you cling to the excitable man, breathing him in.

“I’ve noticed something; I find it funny that even though Sirius’ animagus is the dog, and yet James is the one who acts like an excitable Puppy”, Remus points out whilst slinging an arm around Sirius’ shoulder.

“Hey-!” James begins as he carefully places you back on the floor and turns to his boyfriend to reprimand him. However, he is cut off as Sirius steps forward, gripping his cheeks together until James’ lips purse out so he can kiss them quickly.

“Aw, my little puppy”, Sirius jests before repeating the kissing action with you with a more tender, gentle touch, and you lean into it desperately. “Welcome to your wonderful evening of fun, Darling”.

“Thank you! This is amazing, boys!” you exclaim whilst looking around the room and trying to decide where to rest first, but then a thought came to you: where would you go to the bathroom? As soon as you are finished thinking that thought, a door appears in the corner of the room. Stepping away from your boyfriends, you explain, “I’m just going to use the bathroom. Do you have any spare comfortable clothes I could change into?”

James grins as he reaches for some folded-up clothes you’d missed, and a sense of belonging and comfort fills your heart as you see it includes his shirt. Cleaning up, you’re now in leggings and James’ old quidditch shirt, feeling refreshed yet cosy.

Returning to the room, you momentarily forget about your current circumstances. You admire your three boyfriends as they lounge in front of the fire, casually talking with one another but sharing grins as you walk back towards them. Except reality comes crashing back as another wave of cramps ruins your uterus.

Massaging your abdomen as you double over, you can hear Sirius swear loudly before clambering over the cushions to get to you but stops a foot away, his hands hovering over your shoulders but not touching. Needing comfort, you reach for him, mainly collapsing into him as you wait for the pain to subside.

As it does, you relish the touch of his strokes down the centre of your back as he begins to explain his actions: “Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to touch you. I know I get overstimulated when I’m in pain, and people touch me, so I didn’t want to grab you if you just needed a minute.”

Warmth spreads through your chest at his consideration, and you squeeze him tighter as you tiredly say, “You can always touch me”. His eyes reflect the mischief in his smile at the tone you say the words, but he laughs it off as you try to hide your face in his chest.

“Come on, you perv, let’s get you comfortable”. Following closely beside him, Sirius takes you to where the other two are resting in front of the fire.

“I’m going to get us some food and drinks”, James explains as he stands, kissing your lips carefully before leaving the three of you. As you lie down amongst the pillows and blankets, your head resting against Sirius’ chest, more pain and nausea hit you.

It’s Remus’ turn to give you a chaste kiss before standing and making his way towards the exit, explaining he would go and get the potion from Madam Pompfrey. This left you and Sirius to be close together. And close together is precisely what you needed.

The thumping of his heart as you rested your cheek against his chest was comforting. Your fingers rested over his stomach, but the need to be even closer came over you. Your fingers slipped beneath his jumper to rest against his soft skin. Sirius hummed in contentment at the touch as his fingers carefully massaged your abdomen to relieve the ache. 

Sucking in a breath as more pain takes over, Sirius shifts so he’s looking down at you with concern etched across his face, the shoulder-length hair falling into his eyes. 

“Are you warm enough? Do you want my jumper?”

“I mean, I’m not going to say no, " you drawl tiredly, watching intently as he reached behind his head, pulled his jumper off, and began to help it on. You’re immediately surrounded by everything Sirius, his warmth and smell making you feel like you’re in your own personal corner of heaven. His arms are back around you as soon as you’re comfortable, but you can tell he’s still thinking hard. As much as Sirius pretends to be mysterious, you can read his face like an open book. “What is it?”

“I’ve heard from somewhere that orgasms help with period cramps”, he remarks casually whilst continuing to massage the pain away. You couldn’t help but give him a deadpan look.

“As much as I agree with that sentiment, I’m not in the mood for the mess that would come if it”, you explain, trying to ignore the warmth now throbbing between your legs that had nothing to do with your period.

It’s his turn to give you a pointed look as he reminds you, “Love, I don’t have to have sex with you to make you orgasm, do you not remember your birthday?”

Heat laces your cheeks as you very vividly remember your birthday and the spell Sirius had learned to give you an orgasm without so much as touching you. Instead of saying anything further, you reached up to run your fingers into his hair and pulled his face towards yours. The kiss was gentle and yet heated, your entire body leaning completely into his, legs tangled together as your tongues danced against one another.

You needed everything Sirius could offer, craving him. From the moans he was making, he felt the same way as his weight pressed you further into the cushions beneath. His hands cupped against your face, cradling you so carefully it was like he was afraid you would break, whereas your grip was so intense in his hair you were surprised strands weren’t falling out.

Slowly, those delicate touches moved down your body until one of his hands rested over the area that continued to cramp, his fingers spread wide. His lips left yours but only to whisper the spell into your neck, causing the unbelievably intense orgasm to pulse through your cunt as you squeezed your thighs together as hard as you could. The effects of the orgasm were felt from the tip of your head all the way to your toes as you cried out, “Sirius!” as wave after wave of pleasure eased through you until you collapsed completely into your surroundings.

Sirius continued to hold you, his arms now wrapped around your waist and face. He kissed lightly against your jaw, cheek, tip of your nose, and lips as you tried to catch your breath.

“How was that?” he asked with a gleam in his grey eyes, a ghost of a smile threatening to break free across his handsome face.

“Perfect” was all you could muster of a response as you snuggled closer to him until your head rested against his chest and he simply held you. “My cramps don’t feel so bad anymore”.

“Hmm, good”, Sirius kisses the top of your head before humming to the music playing in the background.

You must have fallen asleep against him as when your eyes opened next, Remus was kneeling before you, holding out a purple bubbling concoction in a tiny vial. “Drink it all, and we’ll get you something to eat”, he instructs as you also notice that James has returned with plates and plates of all manner of foods and desserts.

Sitting up, you thanked him before drinking and then promptly gagged at the taste and texture of the potion. However, the effects were instantaneous as a sense of calm washed over you.

“Woah, easy there, I’ve got you, Darling”, Sirius reassures as you slump back into him, having no energy to hold your head up anymore.

“Open your eyes, Honey, I need you to eat this”. You do with great difficulty but are welcomed by the precious sight of James Potter grinning down at you with a bowl of soup in his lap, the spoon lifted and waiting for you to have.

James fed you the soup and bread as you fell into complete contentment at the care they were giving you. If you had any sense, you probably would have cried with joy and love, but the potion left you feeling too out of it, even if you had the energy to shed a tear.

“All good?” James asks as he finishes feeding you some ice cream. Licking your lips, you nod and smile tiredly at him. James returns with his cheeky grin, leaning down and kissing you before not so subtly pushing Sirius out of the way until his perfectly squished between you and Sirius. “Move over, Pads, it’s my turn to cuddle”.

Sirius swears but moves slightly over, and with everyone fed and happy, everyone gets comfortable. You remain where you are, lying against James’ chest. Remus then presses close against your back, his arm wrapping around you to rest over your hand, and Sirius lies sideways, his head resting against your head. It was a wholesome night, and there was nothing you appreciated more than your boyfriends. When the next few days passed, you would show them exactly how thankful you were for them.

[moonchild9350]

You Can Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

summary: your friends tell you about a brothel that resides in your city, a place to live out your deepest desires.

pairing: sex worker Jeongin x fab!reader

genre: smut-18+ MDNI

word count: 3.0k

warnings: takes place in a brothel so sex work, munch innie lol, overstimulation, edging, pussy job, protected (do) and unprotected sex (don't), removal of condom, creampie, squirting, soft dom reader, soft? sub innie, cum tasting, dirty talk, messy sex lol, brief mention of blood, vocal innie hehe

notes: Innie just looks so innocent in these pics idk just had to write something haha. i hope you like it! (lightly edited)

if you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, and like ♡

please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permissions. ©moonchild9350 (2025)

General Masterlist

It was the weekend, another exhausting week over and done with. You knew you wanted to unwind this weekend and after talking with your friend, you knew just the activity that would help you relax.

Your friend told you about a brothel in town, filled with men who are waiting to fulfill your every desire, no matter what it is. You were curious about the experience, never having been to one, so you decided to sign up right away.

You loved picking out your prey for the night, explaining what you wanted and how. As the time got closer to your reservation, you decided to get ready, as you bought the perfect outfit.

You slipped on your lingerie, the red a striking color on your skin tone, followed by your mini dress. It hung perfectly on your thighs, your curves accentuated and your breasts perched beautifully showing just enough cleavage. You slipped on your heels and eyed yourself in the mirror, more than satisfied with your look. Grabbing your bag, you made your way to the door, as your ride had just pulled up to your house.

The brothel offered its own transportation, allowing you to arrive in style, and who were you to deny the opportunity to be chauffeured. A sleek, black car awaited you, the driver waiting by the backdoor ready to escort you into the vehicle. You accepted his help and slid in. He closed the door and got back into the drivers seat, putting the car in drive and pulling away from your home.

The ride was short, as the brothel was just downtown, nestled in between two office buildings. To the ordinary passerby, they’d never guess what was going on between the walls of what seemed like another regular office building. You walked over to the receptionist, giving her your name.

Only a second more and her face lit up as she located your reservation.

“You are booked with Jeongin, correct?” She asked, her eyes scanning the computer screen before looking at you for confirmation.

“That’s correct,” you said, giving her a smile.

She nodded her head once and then went back to eyeing the computer screen, her nails click clacking occasionally on the keyboard as she finished checking you in.

After a few moments more she looked up and said, “you’re all set. Jeongin is waiting for you in room 143. I hope you have a great time and if you need anything please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

You followed where she gestured, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you made your way down a long hallway. There were doors on either side of the hall, a placard with the room number placed perfectly in the middle. Other than the soft music that played overhead, it was silent.

Arriving at your destination, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door three times. You listened carefully for a response, grasping the door knob and turning when you heard a faint “come in.”

You stepped into the room, your eyes instantly roaming over your surroundings. It was stylish but cozy and not too big. There was a window at the far end of the wall, with sheer curtains pulled across, blocking the outside world from looking in. A couch sat in the corner, fluffy pillows littering every section. Your eyes continued to roam, taking in a bathroom to your right, the lights off except for a mini nightlight in the wall. Finally, your eyes landed on the queen sized bed in the center of the room, outfitted with a white downy comforter, and piles of pillows.

A man got up from the bed, his eyes directed right at you.

“Y/n?” He asked, wanting to confirm the right person was in the room.

“That’s me,” you replied, “and you’re Jeongin?”

He nodded and smiled, little dimples popping up with the gesture. Jeongin was cute, his face chiseled but with a hint of babyish features. His hair was perfectly styled, the strands framing his face haphazardly. He was dressed in all white, his shirt unbuttoned half way to reveal a portion of his chest, the outline of his pecs poking through the gap.

Jeongin was outfitted just how you wanted him, innocent appearing and ready for you to ruin.

“I’m ready for you,” Jeongin replied as he sat on the bed and looked at you in a way that made your pussy clench.

You smirked at his eagerness and sauntered over to him, your heels click clacking on the tile floor.

“Yeah baby?” You cooed as you kneeled on the bed to get closer to him.

He merely nodded his head, his big brown eyes locked on yours. You maneuvered yourself so you were lying on your back, your dress riding up your thighs and teasing him for what was underneath. You spread your legs, displaying your panties that now was sporting a small wet patch to Jeongin.

He eagerly scrambled towards you, spreading your legs as he got comfortable in between them. You sighed as he began to press soft kisses up your thighs, edging closer and closer to your core. Right when he got to the place you needed him most, he switched legs, kissing the flesh there as he stroked your other thigh.

Once he was satisfied, he dragged his lips on your skin until he reached your pelvis, his nose brushing the fabric of your panties. He breathed in your scent, his pupils dilating and cock twitching at your scent. Jeongin pressed his plush lips against your pussy again and again before spitting on the fabric and pressing his tongue flat against your covered entrance before licking up towards your clit.

You let out a low moan as he repeated the motion again and again, teasing you until you were writhing under his grasp.

“Take em off baby,” you cooed.

Jeongin let out a whine before disconnecting his mouth from your pussy. He reached up to grasp the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs before tossing them away. He immediately attached himself back to your pussy, his tongue darting out to play with your clit.

You laid there completely relaxed as Jeongin ate you out, as he lazily played with your clit, edging you to the point of tears. His mouth felt so good, your slick continually leaking out of your entrance and onto his face.

As he sucked your clit into his mouth, he shoved two fingers within your warmth and instantly curled them upwards, stimulating your sweet spot and causing you to see stars. You gripped his hair and tugged, moaning at the vibrations his mouth was giving you as he groaned.

His fingers were steadily moving in and out of your pussy, the pressure against your sweet spot causing pleasure to spread throughout your core as his tongue batted at your clit. You were close so you began to thrust your hips in tune with how he was fingering you.

“Ahh gonna come baby!” You squealed as he picked up the pace.

You felt the warmth increase and the coil tighten within your belly, your orgasm threatening to hit at any moment. You took a breath and Jeongin bit at your clit and you let go with a loud moan as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of you while sucking gently at your clit.

You arched your back as he continued to suck, your legs attempting to close at the overstimulation, but finding it difficult to do so as Jeongin held your legs open. He pressed himself further to your pussy, licking up your slick, making sure not to waste a single drop.

“Mmm too much,” you whined as you tugged on his hair attempting to lift his head up, but it was no use as he buried his face even more so he could continue to give attention to your clit.

Without warning, your orgasm hit you once more, lighter this time around but still powerful nonetheless. You whimpered as you let the feeling take over, staring up at the ceiling as stars danced across your vision.

Finally, Jeongin leaned back as he licked his lips, his face shining with your slick. He grinned as he took in your pussy, his eyes landing on your folds soaked with his spit and your cum, to your puffy, swollen clit that was peaking out so perfectly.

You slowly sat up, your hair a mess, and the straps of your dress hanging haphazardly on your shoulders and smirked at Jeongin.

“Lay down for me,” you said shifting so Jeongin could take your spot.

Once he was comfortable, you slid your dress off and crawled towards your lover for the night. Your hands slid up his legs, running gently over the fabric of his pants before reaching his bulge. You gripped him through his pants, smirking as he let out a whine at the pressure you were applying.

“Take it out please, please,” Jeongin whimpered as he pouted at you.

“Should I take out your cock? Do you deserve it though?” You teased back.

Jeongin quickly shook his head, strands of hair falling in his face. “Please?” He asked once more.

You were satisfied with his plea, so you gripped his waistband and dragged his pants down his legs watching as his cock sprung from its confines and nestled against his belly, nice and hard.

Tossing his pants elsewhere, you straddled his legs and nestled your pussy over his length. You began to rock your hips, his cock slotting perfectly between your folds, the tip catching at your clit with each thrust.

The feel of your pussy dragging against his cock was too much, the pleasure he was receiving causing him to let out a groan that rumbled deep within his chest. Jeongin’s eyes went straight to your pussy and his hands on your hips as he helped guide you over his length.

You were wet, your slick coated his cock and aiding in the glide as you fucked yourself over his length. His cock felt good, the vein that ran along his length hitting the right spots as you thrusted your hips.

Jeognin let out a mewl as he bit his lips his eyes snapping to yours. “Gonna come, shit…don’t stop. Please, please, please,” he mumbled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Yeah? Gonna come? So good for me,” you said breathlessly, as your orgasm was steadily building.

You looked down briefly at where your pussy was gliding effortlessly against his cock and what you saw nearly made you come right there. It was messy, your cream coating his length and the head of his cock was an angry red, drops of precum leaking from the slit. You looked back up at Jeongin, taking in his fucked out state, as his bit his lips so hard, he drew blood, the red droplets smeared across his bottom lip.

With a yelp, you watched as he let go, his cum spurting out onto his belly and your pussy, the white substance adding to the mess that was already present. His release triggered yours, your high hitting you for the third time that night. You continued to thrust against his length, riding out your high as the pleasure slowly simmered away.

You slowed down until you came to a stop as you tried to catch your breath. Jeongin was in no better state, his body glistening with sweat, his pupils dilated and full of lust. You barely registered that he was getting up until you were flat on your back. You stared up at the man above you with wide eyes, surprised at his bust of confidence.

He was still hard and you could tell it was bothering Jeongin as he was desperate to be inside you. You watched as he rolled a condom down his length as it was the rules of the brothel before he brought the head to your entrance and pushed in.

You let out a moan at the stretch, trying to even out your breathing as he continued to sheath himself inside you. Once he bottomed out, he didn’t give you a chance to adjust but instead began to draw his cock in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace.

You were turned on even more as he whined and whimpered, his voice high pitched and strained as he fucked you with force. His eyes trained on your breasts, watching as they bounced up and down with each thrust. He groaned as his hands reached out and gripped them, messaging the flesh and pinching your nipples. You clenched around him as he flicked at the nubs, the sensation of pleasure traveling down to your core.

“Fuck! This pussy oh my god!” Jeongin moaned as his hips slammed into yours.

“Fuck me harder baby,” you moaned as he adjusted himself so he could drive himself deeper within you, so much so you could feel his cock kiss your cervix.

“I’m. Trying.” He said as he punctuated each word with a thrust.

He brought your legs up over his shoulders and leaned down over you. You could feel yourself get even more wet, the evidence present with the sound your pussy made with each drag of his cock within your walls. You were close, the feeling spreading within your belly. You felt your breath increase with each thrust of his hips, as a different sensation started to build. You have only felt this way a few times, most men not able to get you there, but apparently this would be one of those times.

You relaxed further into the pillow as you looked Jeongin in the eyes. His pace increased ever so slightly and you could tell he was close, his groans increasing as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Na uh baby, don’t you dare come until I do,” you warned, smirking as his eyes snapped open and stared down at you.

“But, I don’t think I can hold it,” he whined as a pained moan left his lips.

“Too bad, make me come and then you can okay?”

Jeongin took a breath and nodded his head in resignation. You smiled up at him and gripped his arms as he fucked you. He angled himself differently one last time, this time his cock dragging against your sweet spot, causing you to mewl out at the sensation.

You felt your orgasm build more steadily, the feeling building until it was right there, slowly spilling, your pussy fluttering around his cock. Jeongin grinned before pressing down on your lower belly, the added pressure causing you to squirt, your fluids threatening to push his cock out of your pussy. However, he just shoved his length harder within you, reveling in your pleasure as you thrashed around beneath him.

Jeongin had made you come and he couldn’t hold off any longer. He withdrew his length causing you to whimper at the sudden loss, before he gripped the condom and pulled it off of his cock. It was against the rules, but rules be damned. He wanted to feel you fully as he filled you up to the brim with his cum.

You gasped as he sheathed himself back within you and fucked you at an inhuman pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling up the room. You let out whimpers, the overstimulation now to much, however, you just laid there and took his cock, as you slowly found yourself slipping away and succumbing to the pleasure.

“Shh,” Jeongin cooed as he pushed your hair from your sweaty face. “This will be between you and me yeah?”

You nodded in consent, understanding that this would be your little secret. At your admission, Jeongin snapped his hips into yours one last time before stilling, his orgasm hitting him hard as he came deep inside you.

He took a few moments to catch his breath before withdrawing his cock, his cum leaking out of your entrance and down your ass. Jeongin quickly dragged a finger through the fluids before bringing it to his lips, moaning as he tasted the mixture of your arousals.

You laid there exhausted and spent, your body sore and aching from the abuse it had just received. You both were silent as you came back to reality, the only sound was the loud, rapid beating of your heart in your ears.

Finally, you sat up and faced Jeongin who was sitting next to you.

“That was amazing,” you said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his eyes.

“Yeah? I’m glad,” he said as he grinned, his cheeks turning a ruddy color at the praise.

“Aww you’re so cute!” You teased as you tried to pinch his cheeks just for him to chuckle and try to evade your advances.

After a while, you both found yourselves lying side by side, your bodies sticky from the mixture of your cum and his and dried sweat. Your mind drifted off to how his mouth felt on your pussy and how he took care of your body like no one else before. You may have to visit him more often. But, you had one night with him now and you weren’t going to waste it.

Getting up, you straddled his body and scooted up to his head.

“Ready for dessert?” You asked as you began to lower your pussy over his mouth.

Jeongin just licked his lips and gripped your hips bringing your core to his tongue.

“Oh!” You squealed as he dug in.

As they say dessert is sometimes the best part of the meal and Jeongin would definitely have to agree.

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek

divider by @cafekitsune

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

twelve. lipstick

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. you ever just miss a man so much you pick up a hobby again?

warnings: suna rintarou

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

You swallow down the bite of dinner, smiling nervously into the camera. Suna’s got two fries in his mouth, and he’s not looking at you. His gaze focused very carefully on his drawing pad, stylus gripped loosely between his fingers and following the path his wrist sets with care.

It’s just after seven o’clock, but you’d been on the phone since two. He’d clocked quite a few extra hours in the studio this week due to some project deadlines, and you’d dutifully sat on the other end of a facetime call every night. Your own work remains undone, the problem set haunting you from the corner of your desk. You have a draft of a chapter for your writing class up on your monitor, your messy notes open on your laptop. 

You’d been doing that more recently, too. Blatantly ignoring the responsibilities of your major to actually invest in your electives, this one in particular. You’d always been interested in writing, but it’d been more of a passing hobby than anything else. This class – and the encouraging feedback from your professor – had made it scarily real for you in the last few weeks, with a terrible, lingering hope filling you. A terrible hope that this might be what you’ve wanted to do this whole time. A terrible, nagging thought that the unopened problem set on your desk might be indicative of something bigger that you’ve been trying not to acknowledge.

You’re more than happy to set that issue aside to engage Suna’s conversation.

“Saturday?” you say, spooning more of your rice bowl into your mouth while you give him your attention. He only glances at you, eyes dropping to your mouth before flitting toward his own dinner shyly. He shoves nearly half of his burger in his mouth, only snorting when you watch in horror, before nodding.

“‘aturday,” he mumbles plainly, and you have to pull up your calendar because you know that’s all you’re getting.

PUMPKIN PATCH – DON’T FREAK.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Your chest swarms with nerves, and you do your best to appear as though a brick of fear hasn’t just come down over your head.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He sees right through it, swallowing while he cuts you a disbelieving glance. “You’re so nonchalant and cool.”

You laugh, hiding behind a hand. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”

“Me, too.”

His honesty is disarming as always. 

“Yeah?”

“Incredibly. But I still wanna do it.”

You purse your lips, warming. “Me, too.”

A beat passes, and then a voice full of fond amusement. “Yeah? You sure?” 

A roll of your eyes, the draw of his laugh when he sees it.

“Yes, Rinnie. I’m sure.”

A sigh of frustration masked as a laugh. “You’re so cruel for that.”

It’s hard to focus on your draft that night.

–

You take a deep breath and exhale slow. Slow. 

Breathe in, turn to look at yourself in the mirror, this way and that. 

Breathe out slow. Slow. 

“It’s okay,” you say to yourself, breathing in slow and then breathing out slower. “It’s okay, it’s Suna.”

It’s Suna, the same boy you’ve been talking to for weeks – months, really. The same boy who’s proven again and again that he’s not like any boy you’ve ever met before. The same boy who’d asked to pick you up this morning, who’d asked to walk entirely out of his way to pick you up for a date. A date that he’d been pushing for since before either of you could consider it one.

“It’s Suna,” you breathe again, forcing yourself to be okay with how your hair looks. “Just a first date. With Suna.” 

There are three quiet knocks on the front door, echoing around your apartment and into your bedroom.

Just a first date with Suna.

You start to sweat almost immediately.

“Okay,” you breathe, fanning your face with nervous hands and walking on shaky legs to your bedroom door. “Okay, I can do this.” You look around the living room as you cross it, making sure the space is tidy and lacking anything potentially embarrassing. You’d already checked five times, but one more couldn’t hurt.

By the time your hand is on the doorknob, your face is burning and your hands are clammy.

The man on the other side of the door doesn’t look much better.

It’s weird, meeting someone you’ve known for months.

The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. You’d known. You’d known he’d be tall, but fuck, he’s tall.

The second thing you notice is that he’s got dark features but light eyes. Green eyes, but black hair, black eyebrows. Green eyes, but inky black eyelashes that flutter over them. You’d known that too, from the photos and the calls, but his eyes are greener and his hair is darker in person. His clothes are just as dark, grey shirt tucked into black jeans and dark plaid flannel thrown over the top.

You notice the piercings and tattoos, too. The lip ring he tugs nervously between his teeth, the uneven number of piercings on his left ear and right ear, glinting in the light of your apartment hallway. The black ink peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel, dark ink and pale, ringed fingers.

Pale, ringed fingers that are shaking just slightly, wrapped tight around a bouquet of flowers.

He looks exactly the same as he does in his photos – the familiarity is nearly overwhelming – but everything is new, intense. The reality of Suna Rintarou is stronger than it had been before.

“Hi,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, looking just as stunned.

“Hi-” he breathes, cutting short and swallowing hard. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, ink on his throat moving with it. “-pretty girl.”

You’re not sure you’ll survive this day.

You shiver, breaking eye contact nervously and trying not to let the chills that his voice induces run rampant on your skin. “Do…” You glance over your shoulder and then back at him. “D’you wanna come in? For coffee or something?”

You watch his face redden in real time, watch his ears turn pink as he looks away from you. 

He’s as nervous as you are.

“Sure,” he says quietly. “That sounds nice.” He follows you inside, stepping carefully into your foyer and looking around curiously while he takes his shoes off. “I like your place.”

You warm, padding into the kitchen to start making coffee. You’re distracted beyond belief, distracted by the overwhelming sense of Suna’s presence. It only worsens when you glance back to thank him and realize that he’d followed you down the hall. “Oh. Hi.”

His eyes scan your face – your wide eyes and surprised blush – and then he bites down on his lip ring, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Hi. Am I making you nervous?”

Laughter bubbles out of you, and that wave of familiarity returns, washing away some of your anxiety about meeting him. You already know him.

“Maybe,” you tease, nodding back at the bouquet hanging limply in his hand. “But not any more nervous than I’m making you.”

Suna glances down, realizing that his hand is gripped so tight around it that petals are starting to shed off of the flowers onto your floor. “Oh-” He holds out the bouquet, grimacing when more petals float down between you. “This is for you.”

You smile, feeling a swell of giddiness rise in your chest – the one that you’ve always gotten with him, from the moment you started to fall for him. “I have some vases in that cabinet over the fridge,” you say, still grinning stupidly at him. His eyes twinkle, and you know he’s caught the tinge of domesticity in the way you talk to him. “Help me out, 6’3”?”

He sets the bouquet on the counter, never taking his eyes off of you. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Oh, good lord.

You press a clammy hand to your heated face, watching him cross the kitchen toward you. You lean into the corner of the counter when he stops close enough to you that his scent washes over you, warm and comforting and so Suna and new that you have to fight not to gravitate toward him. 

Suna reaches up with ease, pulling the cabinet open and plucking a small vase from inside. He smirks to himself while he does. “Why d’you keep these up here if you can’t reach?”

“So I can get pretty boys like you to do it for me,” you joke, basking in the nervous flutter of those inky black lashes and the sharp cut of those green eyes down to yours.

“Got a lot of pretty boys on your roster?” His voice drips in annoyance, but his face is a lovely pink color and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you.

“Just one,” you say, your confidence leaving you when he hands over the vase. Your fingers brush against his, and your heart flies to your throat, the nerves unbearable. You turn away, filling the vase with water from the tap and putting far too much care into arranging the bouquet. You feel him behind you, feel his eyes burning through your skin as he takes you in.

“I like your jeans,” is all he says. 

You glance down, taking in the light denim jeans and burnt orange cardigan you’d spent way too much time picking out last night. You’re not the biggest fan of how the jeans fit you, mainly because they’re much more form-fitting than you’re used to, but you’d really wanted to try something new for him. To show him how far you’ve come.

“Thanks,” you whisper nervously. “I’m still getting used to them.” He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a large part of you knows that he doesn’t need to. You can feel his pride from here, washing over you in waves of heat.

You turn back to him, leaning all your weight on the counter so you don’t collapse. “I like your outfit, too.”

His grin is torture, you’re sure of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I tried really hard today.” When you just beam up at him playfully, he sighs in defeat and looks away. He scans over all the things on your fridge, lingering on the polaroids of you with your friends while he speaks. “‘s probably better if we skip the coffee and just go.”

Your face drops, and you blink in confusion. “Why?”

He just smiles in a way that feels self-deprecating, eyes locked on a photo of Alisa and Suga kissing each of your cheeks while you laugh. He swallows, staring down at it with something warm in his gaze. “If we stay here much longer, I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

He has no idea how okay with that you just might be.

Still, he’d promised you a pumpkin patch.

You step toward him, closing the distance and watching as his gaze flits to yours nervously. You press your chest to his while you reach past him for the fridge, pretending you don’t feel his breath stutter or the fingers that brush against your waist.

There’s another photo, just under the one he’d fixated on – it had been taken the same night, just last week in fact. A weeknight when the three of you had decided that bellinis and Breakfast Club could be the only cure to your end-of-semester stress. When Alisa had whipped out a cheap polaroid camera and demanded a photoshoot, when Suga had only been so glad to order delivery for more alcohol and raid your closet for stupid photoshoot outfits. When the three of you had gotten drunk and giddy enough for your newfound confidence – still shy and small and in no small way nurtured by the very man in front of you now – to make an appearance, encouraged in the whoops and hollers of your friends when they’d seen the new you come out.

When you’d climbed drunkenly into Alisa’s lap and let her take a sexy – incredibly blurry, but still sexy – snapshot of you, the memory of Suga cheering in the background while shaking his ass to the end track of Breakfast Club embedded in the glossy film of your smeared lipstick. 

You’d kept the photo, too in love with the memories that had come with it. But you think maybe it would belong better elsewhere.

“Here,” you say, pressing the front of the photo to his chest while you back away, watching with warm ears when he takes it but keeps his eyes on yours. “You can keep that one in your wallet, if you want.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but you turn away and move back down the hall before you can watch him look at it. 

Still, the hushed ‘holy shit’ echoes all the way to the foyer while you put your shoes on, and you bite down a laugh.

“Ready to go?” you call, tying up your sneakers and hearing Suna rush unsteadily out of the kitchen. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” he calls back distractedly. Glancing up through your lashes, heart pounding in your ears at your own courage, you catch as he tucks the photo away in his wallet, just behind his ID. He folds his wallet carefully and slips it in his front pocket, inked fingers still trembling slightly. 

You walk out after him, locking the door and following him down to the nearest bus stop. He can’t seem to decide if he should stand a friendly distance from you while you wait or if he should press his side against yours, so you linger closer to him to let him know it’s okay. He flushes but steps right up to you, facing you and using his frame to block the wind when he sees how you tense against it. 

You stand in a silence that’s somehow both comforting and unnerving, meeting his eyes and then looking away nervously. He just watches you, lips pulling into a fond smile every few moments before he remembers to smother it. He reaches out to you after a while, running cold fingers over your ears and tapping the tips of his fingers against your done-up hair, grinning when you give him an empty glare.

“I like these,” he mumbles, toying with your dangly pumpkin earrings. His thumb brushes over your jaw and then your cheek, and then he finally drags it lightly against your bottom lip, your lipstick coming off a little on his skin. “Pretty.”

You inhale sharply, head swimming with the feel of his fingers and the smell of him – of his clothes and his cologne. So gentle and warm, yet so goddamn overwhelming.

You look up at him through your lashes, parting your lips just slightly, and his eyes grow wide as he stares down at you. He blinks in surprise, and you’re not totally sure what’s just happened. But his thumb leaves your lip, and you find yourself turning toward it, chasing the feeling for just a moment longer. Chasing him for just a moment longer.

The sound of the bus turning the corner breaks the spell Suna Rintarou’s put you under.

You blink rapidly, taking a small step back and watching Suna swallow hard. His face is redder than you think the wind can be blamed for, but he just turns and holds a hand out to help you onto the bus. Your skin burns where it touches his, and you shyly show the driver your student ID before leading Suna down the aisle, his fingers interlacing with yours the moment you start to pull away.

He’s grinning to himself when you finally choose a seat. You roll your eyes but let him rest your hands in his lap. 

After a moment where he’s checking how many stops are left, he pulls out a pair of corded headphones, holding one out to you.

“Want me to show you my sick music taste?”

You laugh, thankful you’d chosen a seat in the back, because the way you’re looking up at him is nothing short of pathetic.

He unlocks his phone, but it opens immediately to a paused YouTube video of a famous Pokemon gamer streaming a playthrough. You lift your brows, staring up at Suna with knowing eyes. He flushes and hurries to close it out.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was watching it on my walk over to calm my nerves.”

You giggle and point down to his screen. “Put it on, then.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really,” you insist. “Put it on. I wanna watch it.”

He turns to you with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell you want to watch this.”

You roll your eyes and take his phone, rewinding the video a bit and pressing play. You try to catch up with all the new information while Suna just stares down at you. You hum after a second.

“So, it’s a Nuzlocke?” 

He doesn’t answer you, only blurting out, “You’re the girl of my dreams”. You laugh, glancing around the crowded bus before shaking your head and returning to the video.

“Yeah, you mighta mentioned that once or twice.”

–

The wind is sharp out in the middle of the pumpkin patch, but you can’t tell if your cheeks are red and stinging from that or from the sheer force of smiling so much.

Suna makes you laugh like it’s his job. He whispers quick one-liners in your ear or into your hair, smiling against the crown of your head when you hide your grin behind your hand.

He treats you like a princess, holding your hand so you don’t trip on the vines and uneven ground while you pick out a pumpkin to take home. He carries everything for you, despite your complaints, and makes a point of still holding your hand. 

And when you finally manage to find a large tote bag to shove all your souvenirs into – designated home pumpkin, popcorn, apple cider donuts, and a variety of knick knacks – he all but fights you for possession of it in the middle of the gift shop. You let him win, and as a reward, he keeps his chest pressed against your back while you wait in line for a short hay ride, one hand – fingers cold and rings colder – pressed to your waist under your cardigan, your skin pebbling under his touch.

He leans down to listen to you talk about nothing in particular, and you wonder, as the line trudges slowly along, if he realizes that his other arm is wrapped tight around you, his thumb hooked through one of your belt loops. You wonder if he realizes that the quiet push and pull of mutual nerves that had kept its hold on you all day is finally falling away, his comfort shown in the way he grabs and holds you like you’re his.

You wouldn’t mind that so much.

You finally reach the front, and he helps you up onto the hay ride, the two of you finding a little spot in the corner. Suna sets your bag between his knees but lets it sit right on his feet, the cloth tote never touching the floor of the wagon. You hum, watching him do it.

“Do you have sisters?”

He blinks, glancing at you in surprise. “A younger one, yeah.”

“Are you close with her?”

He smiles, still confused. “Sometimes…?”

You just laugh, looking away and taking in the view outside the ride. “I can tell. You don’t let bags touch the floor.”

He glances down at his feet. “I-” He laughs. “She told me it was bad luck. Smacked me over the head with her purse once.”

You grin fully, your cheeks hurting again, and shake your head. “Not tryna risk any bad luck today, Rinnie?”

He barks out a laugh, hiding his face in your hair when a couple glances back in amusement.

“I’m still not sure how I got you to like me,” he whispers against you. “I’m not risking shit.”

The ride stops outside of a large corn maze, and other people file off of the wagon slowly. You wait until it’s nearly empty to stand, taking him with you, but you stop him from leaving, pulling him back quickly and rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“You can afford to risk a little bit more.” 

And then you plant your lips on the corner of his mouth in a kiss so chaste that he barely has time to inhale before you’re gone. You hop off the ride on your own, taking off toward the maze. He calls after you loudly, laughing when you just disappear into a wall of corn.

You race through a whirlwind of corn stalks and trip over the uneven ground, hearing as Suna crashes into the maze behind you. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you lead him deeper into the middle of nowhere, accidentally scaring no fewer than three other groups of people and apologizing quietly while your name echoes behind you. 

You stop after a few minutes in a clearing, instantly regretting the decision to run and doing your best not to pass out right there. You barely hear him behind you, slowing to a stop and watching as you bend over to catch your breath.

“You lost, pretty girl?”

You jump, whirling on one foot, only to find Suna’s already crossed over to you. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, listen,” you start, laughing wildly as you back away. “Just listen for a sec-”

He grabs your outstretched hand and yanks you toward him, keeping you there with one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, smiling as you try to wriggle free. “That I should risk more?”

“Okay, listen-” you laugh, pushing your hands against his chest. “I was just playing around-”

Suna’s mouth on yours tells you that he’s not.

The chills start in the crown of your head and wash down over you in an instant. Your heart stops in your chest, and when it starts again, it’s everywhere, all at once. His lip ring is cold on your mouth, but his lips are so unbelievably warm. And when he pulls away just enough to whisper to you, his breath triggers every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath unsteady in his chest. Your head swims at the feeling of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Was that okay?”

You can only nod, your vision hazy and your mind completely blank. He shuffles against you harshly, and you realize belatedly that your bag had slipped off his shoulder and he’d fumbled to catch it.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Didn’t want to let it touch the ground.”

You stare up at him, wondering how you could have possibly gotten so lucky with Suna Rintarou.

You take his face in your hands, pushing your lips against his and swallowing the quiet whine he breathes into your mouth. 

He pulls you tight against him, and you push onto your tiptoes anytime he starts to lift too high, and he nearly drops you when you tug his lip ring between your teeth, your tongue passing nervously against it when he makes a sound that makes your toes curl. 

You only realize that maybe this isn’t totally appropriate for a family-friendly venue when you hear a family in the distance, trying to figure out the way out of the maze. You push against Suna’s chest, watching as he takes a moment longer to process what’s going on. When he does, all he can do is blink down at you dumbly. 

“Huh?” he breathes, face gradually burning a beautiful, rosy red that makes you want to do terrible things to this man.

You swallow your nerves.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you whisper, watching as confusion and then concern passes over his face. “If you’re ready to go.”

It clicks in an instant, and your heart skips when his eyes flick between yours before dropping to your lips, swollen and warm and completely his.

“Your place or mine?”

[empyrealoasis]

Shifting 101: A Complete Beginner’s Guide🐚🫧

This guide will break down everything you need to know about shifting: what it is, how it works, the methods, the science behind it, and practical tips for success.

What Is Shifting?

Shifting is the process of moving your consciousness to a different reality, whether it’s fictional, parallel, or entirely of your creation. It’s not your imagination—it’s about fully experiencing another reality.

Here's a summary of what it might feel like:

Physical Sensations

Vibrations or Tingling: Many report feeling their body vibrating or tingling, especially during the transition phase.

Weightlessness: A sensation of floating or being disconnected from the physical body.

Pressure Changes: Some describe feeling a "sinking" sensation, or a light pressure on their chest or body.

Warmth or Coolness: A shift in body temperature, often feeling either unusually warm or cool.

Mental and Emotional States

Calmness or Euphoria: A deep sense of peace, happiness, or excitement as they approach the desired reality.

Heightened Awareness: A sharper or more vivid sense of surroundings, even if they are imagined.

Detachment from the Current Reality: A feeling of being "pulled away" from where they currently are, mentally and emotionally.

Clarity: A sudden understanding or awareness of the desired reality, as if it's "right there."

During the Shift

Hypnagogic Imagery: Seeing flashes of light, shapes, or scenes from the desired reality as if in a vivid dream.

Auditory Changes: Hearing voices, sounds, or music associated with the desired reality.

Rapid Heartbeat: Some report their heart racing, which may be a mix of excitement and physiological response.

After the Shift

Being grounded in the Desired Reality: Feeling completely present and immersed in the new environment, often indistinguishable from waking life.

Memories: Retaining memories of the current reality but experiencing them as distant or unimportant compared to the new reality.

Familiarity: Even if the shifted reality is new, it may feel intuitively familiar, like returning to a place you've always known.

Why Do People Shift?

To live out their dream life or be in a fictional world.

Escape stress or explore alternate possibilities.

To experience new perspectives and adventures.

For self growth (mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually)

How Does Shifting Work?

Shifting focuses on aligning your consciousness with another reality. It may sound mystical, but scientific concepts can explain how it might work:

1. The Role of the Subconscious

Your subconscious mind doesn’t differentiate between imagination and reality—it processes everything you believe as truth. By visualizing and affirming your DR, you’re "rewriting" your mind to accept it as your "true" reality.

2. Brainwaves and Conscious States

Shifting works best when your brain is in certain states:

Alpha: Relaxed but awake, like when you daydream.

Theta: The in-between state of sleep and wakefulness—perfect for accessing your subconscious.

Delta: Deep sleep. Some people shift directly through their dreams.

3. The Quantum Perspective

The Many-Worlds Theory in quantum physics suggests infinite versions of reality exist. Shifting aligns your awareness with a different version of yourself, allowing you to live in that reality.

How to Shift: The Basics

1. Preparation

Create Your DR Script:

Where you’ll be.

Who you’ll meet.

Rules (e.g., “Time stops in my OR while I’m in my DR”).

Safe words (to return to your OR).

Set the Scene: Find a quiet, comfortable place where you won’t be disturbed.

2. Choose a Method

There are many methods to help guide your mind into the void or DR. Here are some popular ones:

The Raven Method: Lie in a starfish position, count to 100, and affirm things like, "I am in my DR." Visualize your DR as vividly as possible.

The Pillow Method: Write your script and place it under your pillow. Visualize your DR as you fall asleep.

The Void Method: Enter a deeply relaxed state, focus on the darkness behind your eyelids, and affirm that you’re in the void (a blank state of pure awareness where you can shift instantly).

3. Let Go and Trust the Process

The most important part of shifting is letting go of resistance. Don’t force the experience—relax and allow it to happen naturally.

Signs You’re Close to Shifting

You might experience these signs as you approach your DR:

Tingling sensations or vibrations.

Feeling weightless or heavy.

Hearing sounds from your DR.

Seeing flashes of light or imagery.

Common Challenges and Solutions

1. I Can’t Relax

Try meditating before starting or doing a body scan (mentally relaxing each part of your body).

2. I Overthink Too Much

Focus on affirmations or play calming music to distract your logical mind.

3. Nothing Happens

This is untrue as this is an assumption. However, it may take a few tries before you get the hang of it

The Science Behind Shifting

While shifting isn’t officially recognized by science, many related phenomena align with psychological and neurological concepts:

Hypnagogia and Hypnopompia: These are the states between wakefulness and sleep, where vivid imagery and sensations occur. They’re key moments for accessing your subconscious.

Lucid Dreaming: Like shifting, lucid dreaming involves awareness and control within a dream. Many people shift through lucid dreaming techniques.

Visualization and Neuroplasticity: Studies show that imagining something activates the same brain areas as doing it. With repetition, you "train" your brain to accept your DR as real.

The Placebo Effect: Your beliefs shape your experience. If you fully believe you’ve shifted, your brain will accept it as true. Can be achieved with the Law of Assumption.

Myths About Shifting

You Can Get Stuck: This is impossible. Your subconscious will always bring you back to your OR when needed.

It’s Dangerous: Shifting is as safe as sleeping or meditating. Unless you decide to shift to a Zombie Apocalypse then duhh.

You Need a Perfect Script/Concept: Having scripts and a good self-concept helps, but they’re not required. Your intention is enough.

Tips for Success

Stay consistent: Shifting gets easier with practice.

Believe in yourself: Doubts can create mental blocks.

Use reminders: Read your script daily to reinforce your DR.

Be patient: Everyone’s journey is different.

P.S. At the end of the day, all you need is yourself. Only you can make you shift. It is not necessary to have a script/method because it's you who's going to make it work. So, do what feels comfortable for you and what works for you. Don't let others tell you otherwise.

[luvlyfandoms]

OMG HELLO IF U DO WRITE SMUT CAN U MAKE HC'S ABOUT 333 N 388 REACTING TO READER HAVING NIPPEL PIERCINGS ???

ABSOFUCKINLUTELY I CAN

I’m gonna put them both in this post!!

DAE-HO REACTING TO YOU HAVING NIPPLE PIERCINGS

he’s probably shocked when you show him that you got your nipples pierced (but he’s highkey trying to hide his hard on)

I know people love to write Dae-ho as this sweet innocent little sub… BUT NOT I

we love dom!dae-ho on this page

he tells you they taste like house keys cause there’s no place like home

he absolutely loves titties so when you’re riding him and they’re bouncing in his face, he always tries to catch one in his mouth while he cups the other with his big hand

bites down ever so slightly and watches your reaction as he does so, trying to hide his smirk

his voice gets deeper when he’s horny

MYUNG-GI REACTING TO YOU HAVING NIPPLE PIERCINGS

his eyes were WIDE when you lifted up your shirt to reveal the piercings

we also love dom!myung-gi on this page

he immediately gets you in bed upon seeing the new piercings

he promises to be gentle but he’s having a hard time holding himself back because he wants nothing more than to ravage you

fucks you from behind and makes you look at yourself in the mirror so you can see your titties bouncing

obviously holds a fistful of your hair

HIS MOANSSSSS FUUUUUCK

groans, grunts, growls

MAN IT FEELS CRAZY COMING OUT OF RETIREMENT AFTER YEARS OF NOT WRITING

hope you enjoyed 🙂