#cause that tag is for the kittens now

[aheathen-conceivably]

💙 🌍 🐠 of the WIP asks? Hier sind Kekse (here are cookies).

Ooooh these are good! And thanks for the cookies my dearest 🍪

💙: Song(s) inspiration?

Sweet mother of Jesus, so many 😅

Y’all know I got the whole 1930s playlist that I dropped when we first started the decade. Then the song in this post has really served as the inspo for not only the teaser posters at the start of the arc, but really the whole latter part of the decade. But as far as some songs I haven’t shared yet that I’ve had on repeat as inspo lately…

Also fun fact, I have loudly and proudly disliked country music my whole adult life. This arc has changed my opinion to say the least 😅

🌍: Where were you writing this most?

I usually end up writing wherever inspo strikes! Which mostly means on my phone, standing in the middle of the room like someone who’s lost or leaning over my bed as I furiously type while an hour passes without me realizing. Although I’ve been trying to organize my writing lately, which means sitting at my desk with my lil kittens, who are now big enough to officially serve as Darlington Vibe Consultants 🥹

🐠: Will we die after this WIP is posted and read?

…..😬

To be honest, maybe? Although I’m sure y’all will yell at me first 🤣

[monkesupreme]

ref

a satisfactory answer for Selina

[llitchilitchi]

been reading the Alexander Trilogy and kept making fun of Hephaistion for being so thoroughly whipped for Alexander but then actually decided to draw him all bright and a little sweaty after exercise and yeah, yeah I see the vision

(referenced these ivory sculptures for the face reference, this would be when he's maybe 18-ish, presumably before exile)

[ssecond-hand-faith]

Ever wondered which of my OCs you can ship your OCs (or yourself) with? Wonder no more! Any of these fine folks will be happy smooch your OCs (or you) right on the face! Or other places if you’re so inclined

(With the caveat that you and your OC are over the age of 18, all of these characters are adults)

[mothbaaalls]

there should really be like. a peer support network for people who work/volunteer in animal rescue and care. because good god it's needed

[boobearymuch]

A Rising Sun

Summary: Thirteen missed calls and twenty unread text messages. Not even Mephisto could track you. “You’re really starting to worry me here, kitten.” Sylus pressed the phone to his ear, eyes glued to Mephisto’s live feed as he soared through the N109 Zone’s darkest alleys, “If it was something I did, let me make it up to you.” Tags: Sylus/Reader, gender-neutral, slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader is mc, established relationship Word Count: 1.8k A/N: requested by @hrts4hanniehae read on ao3 | masterlist

Crystal clinked loudly against a mahogany table as Sylus put the empty glass down with a seething glare. He would’ve slammed it were it not for your sleeping form just several feet away, however. Your chest rose and fell under his satin sheets, and he counted each breath like a rosary bead; you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine. He unstopped a priceless bottle of whiskey and poured himself another drink, but the tremor in his hand sloshed amber liquid over the sides. Sylus huffed but didn’t bother wiping up the mess. Instead, he downed the whiskey in one go and squeezed his tired eyes shut. The burn was nothing compared to the chill down his spine when he found you. 

Thirteen missed calls and twenty unread text messages. Not even Mephisto could track you. “You’re really starting to worry me here, kitten.” Sylus pressed the phone to his ear, eyes glued to Mephisto’s live feed as he soared through the N109 Zone’s darkest alleys, “If it was something I did, let me make it up to you.” The begging in his voice grew more obvious as the voicemails went on, “—Please. Just let me know you’re okay.” Sylus drew closer to the hologram, helpless, as Mephisto investigated another possible location, “I can’t…” Another dead end. The mechanical crow cooed softly before swooping into another street, and Sylus heard his voice catch in his throat, “...I can’t feel you anymore.” 

Beep. The call ended, leaving a loaded silence in its wake. 

He considered leaving yet another voicemail when Mephisto turned a sharp corner and pointed his eyes at a dark figure slumped against a wall. No, no, no. His worst fears were realized when the crow perched himself on your knee and cawed loudly, as if scolding you for causing so much trouble. Then his lens panned over the blood. So much blood. Sylus couldn’t recall the ride there, which car he took, how fast he was going. Trivial details, to be frank. Your name was the only thought in his mind, the only language he understood—you, you, you. Sense returned to him when he clutched your limp body in his tight embrace, and you groaned weakly in his arms. “I’m here,” Sylus sighed against your ear, “Always here.” 

The sheets of his bed rustled as you shifted your weight, and Sylus shot you a look. “Sylus,” You called weakly, and winced as you sat up.

“Don’t lean on your arm.” Despite your discomfort, his narrowed gaze remained fixed on the empty glass in his hand. He made no move to approach you, “You’ll disturb the bandages.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you take note of the gauze wrapped around your bicep. The bleeding stopped a while ago. “That wanderer missed your artery by a hair,” Sylus drawled, and your confused gaze met his cold look, “Your luck never ceases to amaze me.” Then he stood, your confusion morphing into panic, “Let Mephisto know if you need anything.”

“Sylus, wait—” You outstretched your hand, the bandaged one, and immediately hissed in pain. Sylus froze, but like before, remained where he stood, “How long have I been out?”

His lip twitched. “Three hours now,” A beat, then he was reaching into his pocket, “Here.” Your phone bounced against the mattress at your feet, and Sylus watched you pick up the shattered screen. Wincing, you turned it on, and he quietly studied your distress.

“I’m sorry,” You began softly, but Sylus forced his eyes to the floor. He couldn’t stand the guilt in your eyes, “I got so caught up I didn’t—”

His raised hand cut you short, “Don’t.” And he turned away sharply, “Just focus on resting.” The lump in his throat was difficult to swallow around, so he grabbed the leftover whiskey and rushed out.

Cooling down with some vinyl records had been his first instinct. Dusting them off, running his fingers over the plastic covers, then finally settling on just one. Fretting over their display was a nervous habit of his, his go-to when he needed a distraction. But it proved too difficult to position the needle correctly with trembling hands, and Sylus watched the needle stutter over the grooves with a grimace. Instrumentals kicked in over the stereo quietly, but it still wasn’t enough to drown out his swirling thoughts. He should be with you right now. Tending to your every need and shushing you gently to get some rest. Instead, he hid away with his records, inhaling and exhaling to relax the tight ball in his chest. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.

He repeated this useless prayer to himself to prevent other thoughts—darker thoughts—from bubbling up. It didn’t work, though. “Sylus?” His eyes widened at the sound of your voice, before they suddenly narrowed in suspicion. As if on cue, Mephisto breezed to his perch in the corner of the room, and Sylus shot the crow a withering glare. So much for keeping you away from him, damn bird. Mephisto only pricked his feathers innocently in response. Your bare feet then padded across the room, but Sylus refused to turn around. You shouldn’t have to see him like this. “Sylus, would you please look at me?” You insisted again, stronger this time, “Are you angry?”

Usually, he craved your bluntness. Right now, he resented it. “I should have locked him in his cage.” Your steps drew closer, and Sylus concentrated on the spinning vinyl.

Your tired sigh gripped his heart. “I heard your voicemails,” You announced quietly, “It’s…It’s okay if you are. You have every right to be.” 

It’s just so like you to put his feelings first. As if he had been the one bleeding in an alley for hours. Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose, “And if I was?” He turned to face you, finally, and noted the half-step you took back. Sylus couldn’t help the scowl that tugged at his lips, “Why aren’t you?”

You frowned at him and rubbed your arm distractedly. “I…feel bad for making you worry. I’m sorry, and I totally understand where you’re coming from.” You then tugged nervously at your clothes, avoiding his sharp gaze, “I would be angry with me too, believe me. Especially after I said I’d be more—”

Sylus couldn’t help it, a humorless laugh erupted from his bitten lips. You only stared in bewilderment as he raised a hand to cover his mouth, “Angry at you…?” He shook his head as another wave of trepidation passed through him, “You misunderstand,” Then his voice fell ominously low, “I’m not angry at you.”

Surprise gripped your expression, “I don’t understand, then. Why are you angry?”

“Why?” It was Sylus’ turn to give you a bewildered look, “Why?” The answer was so obvious, he almost felt ridiculous spelling it out for you. Through gritted teeth, he tried anyway, “Because I failed to protect you, that’s why.” That lump in his throat returned, so he promptly shut up. His words clung to the air for several moments, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off you now. A flurry of emotions overwhelmed you; perhaps you were realizing that, yes, he did fail you tonight. That realization never quite reached your eyes, though. Instead, you slowly shook your head before falling back to get comfortable on his couch. 

“Come sit with me.” You patted the area next to you and watched him expectantly. Sylus stared. You always did find new ways to surprise him, somehow. He fought three wars in his head—before losing them all—and hesitantly took his place by your side. The big, bad Onychinus leader avoided your soft gaze. “What happened tonight, neither of us is to blame.” Your voice fell hush, and he didn’t need to look at you to know you saw right through him, “You can be angry, but please don’t hold a grudge.” You scooted yourself closer to take his hand in yours, and his eyes numbly flicked to your linked fingers. 

“If Mephisto hadn’t found you…I didn’t know what to think.” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed thickly, “Your aether core. I couldn’t feel it.” His thumb caressed yours gently, “Fear like that isn’t easy to forget.”

Guilt brimmed in your eyes again, and he wished he hadn’t said anything. “You found me,” You began fiercely, “And I’m okay now, thanks to you. Because of you. You could never fail me.” Your words only deepened his scowl. It should never have gotten to that point in the first place. You should never have been in that position—alone. Your interlocked hands tightened, “Sylus…” Your murmur, spoken like a wish, was accompanied by a sudden warmth between your palms. He inhaled sharply as he watched your hands glow, evols linking as you resonated with his. The feeling was difficult to explain. Resonating with you blanketed him in a warmth like no other, like he was morning dew glowing under the rising sun. Like it was the first and last time he’d ever feel sunlight. You were alive. You were well. And if you harbored any ill will toward him, then resonating wouldn’t have come so naturally to you. He’s glad it did. 

The resonance ended all too soon, however, and the light of your evols dimmed to nothing. Sylus’ record played softly in the silence. “Thank you,” He murmured at last, feeling calm for the first time that evening, “...And I’m sorry.” You made it difficult to stay upset. You had no idea how much power you held over him—over his mind and body alike—how easily you could mold him like putty in your precious hands. Right now, though, you guided those precious hands to his chin and looked him over properly. The dark circles, the disheveled hair, the cracked lips; you drank all of it in and let worry settle in the crease of your brow. He hid his embarrassment behind wisecracks, “Like what you see? A picture might last longer.”

You shot him a look, “You should take a shower, you’ll feel better.” Your expression then softened, and your thumb caressed the side of his smirking mouth, “But hurry, so you can join me in bed.”

He swore he felt traces of your evol smoldering within him, “Easy, kitten, you’re still recovering.”

Amusement sparkled in his ruby eyes when you abruptly pulled away, flustered, “You know what I meant!” Tsk, it was too easy sometimes. Sylus tried and failed to hide his smile before unexpectedly lifting you off the couch, “Sylus—”

“I’ve got you—yes, I do, now stop squirming,” Hanging on with your good arm, Sylus held you tighter than he’d ever done before. Letting you down would never be an option again. “Save the struggling for later, sweetie.” You merely huffed and settled into his secure embrace, but your free hand clutched his shirt just as tightly. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

Morning dew, meet rising sun.

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

[yujateaandpi]

Gravity Falls Thirty More Years AU and Art Masterlist

Here's all the pages of the comic in order plus some of the other GF stuff I've made. I'll keep updating this list to make it easy on y'all.

Edit: I have a new tagging system! All asks will be tagged #thirtymoreyearsau without spaces, and all comics and fic updates will be tagged #thirty more years au with spaces. If you want the whole story together, then you can filter using this tag on my account! Filtered link here.

If you like the comic and would like to support it, here’s my tip jar! Donations also appreciated for this family's fundraiser!

Thirty More Years AU Comic:

Page 1

Pages 2 and 3

Page 4

Page 5

Page 6

Page 7

Pages 8 and 9

Page 10

Pages 11 and 12

Pages 13 and 14

Prequel Multiverse Mini Comic

Epistolary Prequel Companion/ Dipper's Diary Entries:

"Dear Mabel, I Miss You"

Answers to Common Questions:

What is the Thirty Years AU?

A Gravity Falls fan story and comic about what would happen if Mabel and Ford both fall into a leftover multiverse rift at the end of summer. They experience a week of silly adventures but return to a world where 30 years have passed and Dipper + co have aged without them. Told as both a comic and a companion fic.

2. How old are the characters?

Answer

3. When does the story take place relative to the show?

Answer

4. Where's Bill?

Answer

5. Where else can I read the comic? Will you distribute it on a site?

Releasing it on my Instagram (but Tumblr gets the pages earlier cause y'all are special). As for releasing it on a site, answer here.

6. How many pages/ how long will the comic approximately be?

Subject to change, but here's my answer for now.

7. How often will you post/ when will you post again?

Here's my answer for now, but if there's delays between posts please don't spam me with questions on when I'll post again. The updates will come when they come and I'm trying to keep this flexible.

8. Is this Drifting Stars AU/ Other Similar AU?

Answer

9. Someone's reposting on TikTok/ Other social media! Are you okay with this?

No, and please report them if you can. Answer here.

11. Will you tag me/ make a tag list?

Answer

12. Why haven't you answered my question?

Answer

13. What art program/ brushes do you use?

Answer

Other Fanart

Twin Glare^2

Kitten Sweater

Pines Pines Pines

Happy Birthday Twins

Gravity Falls The Odyssey AU

Sona Shenanigans

Fiddleford to the rescue

mystery trio eizouken

twins in time mini comic

F-fiddlestan…🥺

Stan Pines Mini Character Analysis Essays

Apparently I do this a lot, so collecting them in one place:

Poll thots

Rough and tumble little Stanley

Stan Appreciation

that magic 8 ball man…

off topic Billford thots

off topic Fiddleford thots

off topic Fiddlestan thots

off topic Emma May thots

[sweet-as-kiwis]

And so the Great Instrument Swap begins

[tbaluver]

Hi! Wanted to ask if you could maybe do if L&DS men are cat hybrids and went into heat.

love your work

The Love And DeepSpace Men As Cat Hybrids In Heat

parings in order: Cat Hybrid!Xavier x Reader, Cat Hybrid!Zayne x Reader, Cat Hybrid!Rafayel x Reader, Cat Hybrid!Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: MDNI, 18+, breeding kink, fingering, p in v, sylus receiving head a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ im soso sorry this took so long i hope this doesn't disappoint and if it does just pretend it simply doesn't exist ! ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) i was suppose to have this posted around kinktober but i got busy with exams so i barely just got back to it after the new banner trailer came out! thank you for loving my works and i hope you enjoy reading luv ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

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Xavier /ᐠ˵- ᴗ -˵マ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 :

you couldn’t help but stir in the sheets as your backside was pressed firmly against Xavier as he pulled you in closer. his head rested in the crook of your neck, running small kitten licks on it. sleep still clouded your mind and it took you a few seconds to realize his bulge was pressing against the plush of your ass.

“it-it hurts....” he lets out a whine. his eyes were half-lidded while his ears were drooped helplessly. he didn’t mean to wake you and never wanted to trouble you but the ache coursed through his lower half was unbearable. he couldn’t help it but he needed you more than ever.

“please can you make it better for me, honey?” he asked desperately as you hummed in response. the plump of his lips against your neck caused goosebumps causing you to arch your back enough to grind against him.

he softly grunts into the shell of your ear when you grind your lower half to grind against his clothed erection. his hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, finding the curve of your breasts. his hands kneading them desperately while his fingers circle one of your nipples.

you catch your breath as his fingers looped around the waistband of your panties. little gasps of pleasure manage to escape your lips as his hands find their way to play with your clit. his fingers pressed against your entrance, teasing it slightly as if it begged for him. you let out a moan, your back arching your back more as he pushes a second finger in as he shallowly dips his fingers between your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips.

“so wet..need to be inside you.” he lets out a low growl, withdrawing his slick-coated fingers from your cunt that earns a whine from you. he quickly removes his boxers, desperate to free his cock from its constriction. in an instant, his hands find their way back to you, placing his hands on the back of your thighs.

without any words, his hands gently guided your thigh upwards. his mind was in a haze, consumed by nothing but thoughts of you- of being inside of you and filling you up full of nothing but him only.

xavier rocks his hips forward, slipping his cock between your lower lips. his hand squeezes your thigh firmly as he teases your entrance. “you’re so soft...so warm.” he lets out a breathy moan as his hair and the soft fur on his ear gently brush against your skin as he watches you slowly take him in. he carefully slowly buries himself inside of you, making sure to pause and let you get used to the sudden girth.

you whimper when he sets a steady pace, his hand moves to your hips to help him. “pretty...” xavier lowly murmurs into your ear, “gonna give you a whole litter,” he stammers out, his words faltering as one of his ears perked up while the other stayed drooped. his eyes were half-lidded and his tone completely shifted with the idea of you being the mother to his future litter.

his pace quickens, his movements are now rougher. his cock hitting so deep inside of you with every thrust as his name continues to slip out of your lips, motivating him further. his left hand rested on your stomach while his right hand found their way back to your breasts, kneading them desperately and pinching it gently with his thumb and index finger.

both of you fill the room with strings of curses and each other’s names as you meet the blinding heat of your climax washing over you both. his hips thrust into you one last time, digging his hands into your hips as he spills his seed into you, filling you whole until it drips to your inner thigh.

you both catch your breath, breathing heavily as he presses his forehead against the back of your shoulder. “thank you..’m sorry for waking you,” he murmurs softly, his fingers drawing circles on your hip.

you gently lift his hand from your hip, pressing a quick kiss to his palm. “t’s alright xavier,” you reassure him.

you feel him shift behind you as he positions himself on top of you and for you to lie on your back. your eyes widened seeing his cock still hard and shimmering in your slick.

“we’re not finished yet.”

Zayne /ᐠ - ˕ -マ :

you couldn’t help but notice the subtle discomfort of your boyfriend. he unusually fidgeted in his seat, shifting his position every few minutes. sometimes he’d get up, only to return to the same spot, often followed by a sigh or a low groan. it was clear to you that something was bothering him.

“is everything alright?” you asked. he didn’t even look up, his gaze remained fixed on the pages in front of him. he’s staring at the pages but he’s not reading the words.

“i’m fine,” but you knew him too well, especially in the condition he was in right now. the way his tail swayed and how his ears flicked from the sound of you gave it away.

you set your book aside, moving in front of him. you gently closed the book he was holding and removed it from his hands. without waiting for a response, you settled yourself in his lap, positioning yourself so you could face him.

“c’mon tell me what’s wrong zayne,” you said softly, trying your best to ease any of his tension. you reached up, gently scratching behind his ears, careful not to press too hard, knowing how sensitive he was. he winced, making you flinch slightly and you immediately lifted your hand, ready to apologize.

but instead of pulling you away, his palm met the back of your hand, guiding it back down to rest on the side of his cheek. he nuzzled into your touch, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet scent of your skin. his hazel green eyes lock onto yours as he presses his lips to your wrist, giving it a teasing but yet gentle bite.

“your scent.. it’s driving me mad..” he lets out a low groan, giving your hand a small lick over the bite. 

“will you help me make it better my love?” his eyes looked needy and desperate, you couldn’t say no.

you let him move his hand down over your thighs between your legs. the cool touch of his fingers grazed over your thin fabric of your panties, adding that attention that you wanted to your body.

he was quick to help you discard your top, letting him have your breasts displayed in front of him in all his glory. whimpers escape your lips as you feel the warm and wetness of his tongue lapping at the sensitive bud that made wet arousal stream out of you. you could almost feel the wetness seeping from you.

he couldn’t ignore his painfully erect cock in the restraint of his pants. he helps you remove your panties down, lifting your hips and leg off to fully slip them off.

“please, i need you,” he pleads, grabbing the side of your ass and desperately rocks his hips up at you.

“i can never say no to you,” you purr, helping him remove his pants and letting them pool at his legs. his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. he grunts out softly, his hands gripping onto your thighs, squeezing the flesh.

you take his length in your hands, attempting to line him up with your entrance. you rub his tip through your folds, letting him appreciate the presence of your wet folds before you sink down slowly on his cock, a broken whine escaping your lips.

zayne’s head falls against the back of the couch, eyes fluttering shut at the bliss of being inside you. the sensation of having your warm, wet cunt wrapped around his cock gave him the remedy he needed. and he needed more. 

it’s making him lose his composure and letting him kick into the animalistic instinct inside of him the longer you continue to make him feel so good.

his large hands begin to bounce you up and down his length, hungry to feel further inside of you. his pace is not usually this rough at the beginning but given the state he’s in, your priority was to make him feel better, too feel good.

you have to clutch his broad shoulders to stay in place, his thrusts setting your stomach in a blaze of ecstasy. he groans as he watches your face melt in pleasure and your tits bounce up and down, only making him want to fuck you harder.

“i-i can’t hold out that long love,” he pants, burying his face back into your breasts. you pull him in closer, your hands knotting into his hair as you bounce on his cock

you're having trouble keeping up everytime he slams you down into his lap. desperate, he pulls you in an open-mouthed kiss. It's sloppy and messy but yet passionate. you wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

you could feel the coil in your stomach tightening to a dangerous extent, parting your lips as pleasure courses through your body. your walls flutter around him as he continues to pump in and out of your poor pussy, letting a low groan out of him.

he feels it, he feels his release coming but he doesn’t want it to end. waves of pleasure washes through him, his cock pumping his seed all into your hole. he watches it dribble down your leg which makes his ear twitch.

he doesn’t pull out, his dick growing back harder inside of you. he refuses to let his seed go to waste. he’ll continue and continue to fuck his cum back into you.

Rafayel ฅᨐฅ :

this was humiliating. his own body has betrayed him once again and turned him into this wretched creature he disliked the most. a cat.

he didn’t like one thing about being a cat, let alone being human-ish and a cat. the only thing he could appreciate this time was the ability to speak to you and tell you all the troubles he had. all of it, except for this.

the burning heat through his lower half of his body was unbearable, his mind and body fought each other as his body called for you.

he wanted you, needed you. but he didn’t want you to see him like this- not with his ears twitching in embarrassment or this annoying tail that betrayed his every move. he paced around in the bathroom, deciding to endure this unbearable urge to pass.

that was until a knock on the other side of the door snapped him from his thoughts. it was you.

“raf is everything okay in there? you’ve been in the bathroom for a while now..” you trailed off, your voice faint and muffled.

“i’m fine! you can go shoo!” but his own body betrayed him as moved toward the door despite what he said. his mind screamed at him to stop but his body pushed forward, yearning for you. his tail swayed, already longing for the sound of your voice. he didn’t want you to go.

he can hear you sigh from the other side of the door. “i know you hate being a cat again but let me help raf.”

it was quiet for a moment from his side of the door until the sound of the lock clicking opened. the door creaked slightly until you pushed it fully open, catching the sight of raf’s back.

“see everything is fineeee.” he says, not bothering to face you, his arms crossed over his chest. even from the back you can tell he’s probably pouting. but you can tell just from the tone of his voice that he’s lying.

you stepped closer, your hand brushing up his tail. his ears twitched while his tail perked up in an instant you touched him. “you-!” his breath hitched and the last shred of whatever control he had slipped away.

he pressed you against the door, his left hand cradling the back of your head to cushion the impact, while his right hand braces beside you, keeping you both in place.

he looks at you up and down, panting before pulling you closer and capturing your lips with urgency. his hand moves to your cheek while his thumb grazes softly.

“i can help raf,” you whisper against his lips, finally understanding the situation. your eyes flutter half closed, drawn to the soft movement of his lips and yours.

he whines softly as he pulls away, his ears drooping while his tail still sways. he didn’t give it a second thought before hoisting you up in his arms and placing you on the cold bathroom counter.

rafayel leans forward again, pressing his mouth to the column of your throat. his warm soft lips trailed your heated skins as his hands fell to your thighs. warm fingers, eager and urgent, explored your skin.

you lean back, pressing your head to the cool glass of the mirror, gripping his shoulder as he gives you small bites and licks over them. his hands snake up to make quick work on your shirt as you help him remove it.

“your scent,” he inhales deeply, his nose grazing against your skin. his cock twitched from the restraints of his pants as he pressed a kiss to the plush of your breast before nuzzling his face between them. “you’re soaked aren’t you?” 

he quickly slips off your panties to the side and presses his mouth the pulse point just beneath your ear as his fingers brush your clit. he groaned at the slick gathered on his fingers, not that surprised that you’re already dripping for him.

a small moan left your lips, your eyes rolling at the back of your head as he pushed his fingers into your entrance. the pleasure was short lived as he pulled away as he unbuckled his belt. his hard cock sprung free from the fabric, begging to be inside of you.

he positioned himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into your wet cunt, earning a loud moan as rafayel tries to fill you up. wet arousal streams out of you as you arch your back and cup one of your breasts, fingers flicking over your hardening nipples.

“soo wett..” he trembles, a whimpering mess he is. he continues to babble curses and praises, making your velvety walls flutter and tighten impossibly around him. a whine escapes him as he ears droop and his mouth partens.

he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more merciless. he can’t blame you for the way your pussy wraps around his cock so perfectly. the image of your pretty pussy being so stuffed of him, nearly made him lose his mind

“gods..the way you’re taking me..” he pants out, “wanna breed you. gunna fill you up with soo much of my cum yea?”

your mind is clouded with a haze of lust, feeling his urgent need to feel you up. yeah it could be a litter but fuck it you can change his mind about cats later.

“give it to me raf, all of it,” you huff out between moans, as the pressure starts to bubble in your lower belly. clenching around his cock as his pace sped up, his hips slamming into your walls.

“‘m gonna give you all of it, fill you up so much,” he tightens his grip on your hip, using his free hand to spread you open further to see his cum leaking from your hole around his cock, driving him over the edge.

he blows his load and fills your cunt, rocking your hips with his. you met your high that shaked your entire body while your eyes rolled back and had your toes curling.

you both catch your breath as he still remains inside of you, still throbbing at the sight of you.

“you’re gunna make me wanna fuck another load inside of you.”

Sylus ≽^-˕-^≼ :

sylus 𓅨 sent you a voice message.

he lets out a low grunt in the beginning of the voice message. “sweetie..” he sighs deeply, desperation in his voice. “i don’t mean to trouble you but i’m afraid i need you urgently. please hurry home soon.”

he lets out a low groan as his half lidded eyes fall on you, followed by a chuckle. his crimson gaze locks onto you, his lips slightly parted as he strokes his cock a bit faster than before.

you were still frozen by the doorway to your shared bedroom as you admired the scene that played out in front of you. a surge of lust pulsed through you, a tingling sensation blossomed from your core and spread through  your legs.

he looked good like this. his black button up shirt hung open, revealing the sculpted lines of his abs. his belt undone and his pants pushed down enough to reveal his cock that he lazily stroked in his hand. his face slightly flushed as his mouth remained slightly parted as he let out small pants while his ears drooped low.

you locked the door behind you as you crawled onto the bed, settling yourself right in between his thighs. “enjoying the view?” he teases, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he raises a brow. “care to lend a hand sweetie?”

you let out a breathy chuckle, straightening up to lean in and kiss him. your hand instinctively moved to rub the back of his ears earning a low groan while his eyes fluttered closed at your touch. “always so shameless aren’t you sy?” you whisper against his lips as you continue to stroke the back of his ears.

you place small kisses down his jaw to his neck, teasing him as you trail lower and lower. your tongue tracing the outlines of his abs and muscles.

you come face to face with his cock, already throbbing and hot pink with arousal. you kiss the base of his cock, trailing up and down his length with your lips before tugging on it gently as you place the tip in your mouth.

his hands immediately interlace in your hair. the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive shaft was too much to bear, too good, he wished you’d never stop.

“fuck,” a low groan rumbles at the back of his throat followed by uneven pants. sylus throws his head back a little but looks back down to watch you. your eyes met his crimson ones as you release him from your mouth with a pop.

the feeling of his calloused hand could never compare with your mouth and tongue running up and down his length, your saliva dropping down and squelching on his hard cock.

“taste so good sy,” you moaned, placing a few tender kisses on his tip as you ran your hands up and down on his bare thighs.

his ears perked up once he heard that. he can’t finish in your mouth. he needs to fill you up. breed you till his heart content.

he lost all of his control, pushing you off him, your back hitting the soft plush of the mattress. you yelp in surprise as you feel him work off your shirt and bra urgently. he breathes you in, the scent of your bare skin filling his senses. his warm breath brushing over you, sending goosebumps across your body. “you smell divine,” he murmurs, kissing the skin of your chest before slowly moving towards the swell of your tits.

he takes your nipple into his mouth, dragging his tongue on it while he starts to suck. your eyes flutter close while your hands find their way to the back of his ears, making his ears twitch and his tail perk up.

his hands make quick work, pulling your bottoms down before tugging off the last piece of clothing that restricted him from entering.

“gonna give me a whole litter sweetie? keep you full of me?”

sylus sinks his thick heavy cock into your wet heat, your walls trying to welcome his length. your hands slide over his arms to rest on his broad shoulders, choked whimpers tumble out of your lips.

“so fucking tight,” he curses breathlessly,  your mind turning static with each drag of his cock against your sweet spot. it’s normally not like this with him, but he’s so desperate and feral right now.

the restraints of his animalistic urges were crumbling once he was finally inside of you. the way he effortlessly yanks you up with his calloused hands and wraps them around your thighs to fill you to the brim. he groans at the idea of stuffing you full of his seed, the warmth of your pussy was addicting that he didn’t want to leave. 

a guttural groan and curses escape him as he picks up the pace and thrusts upwards mercilessly. “i’m close sweetie..will you let me fill you sweetie? pump your tight pussy full of my cum,”

you let out a breathless yes as his hand rests on your stomach and presses it down. his words were barely audible to you now as he leaves open mouthed kisses. his teeth sinking into your soft skin, marking you his.

he could almost taste blood on his lips from biting his bottom lip too hard as he watches your belly bulge with each hard thrusts he gives. heavy balls slap against the curve of your ass, each thrusts of his seems to grow harsher, more deeper.

in absolute bliss, he finally fills you up and paints your insides white with thick spurts of his seed. obviously he doesn’t forget you. your orgasm hits you when he continues to pump inside of you, circling your sensitive clit in slow motion, incoherent whimpers until you feel your voice giving out.

“so good to me,” he murmurs, running a hand through your hair. he lowers himself toward you, peppering your face with sweet kisses and giving you kitten licks on the marks he’s bitten you on as you recover from your high.

“you’re gonna make a wonderful mother to my litter sweetie.” he murmurs, before sitting up, his cock still hard.

“sy please..’s too much” you whine as he lets out a low chuckle, “relax, you can handle it sweetie.”

this is my only blog. i do not have any other accounts where i post my content.

[krosiefics]

when did you get so buff? • lee minho

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: when your best friend, Minho, arrives at your apartment drenched from the rain. What would happen if you acted on the sudden arousal of seeing the outline of his built body?

WC: 1.3k

Tags: smut, pwp, afab!reader, bsf!minho, softdom!minho, ass spanking, pet names (baby, kitten), cursing, grinding, lwk dry humping, piv, unprotected sex (plz don’t), creampie, unprepped sex, mutual pinning(?), probably forgetting something :P

a/n: this was written in like 10 mins so it’s kinda rushed lol also not proofread…this man had me in a chokehold the entire mv making video

————————————————————————

“Woah- when the fuck did you get so buff Min?” You let out a laugh of disbelief. Your best friend was on his way to your apartment when it started raining, by the time he got to your home, his jacket was soaked through, clinging to every part of his torso.

Minho looked at you and shrugged as he took off his jacket, “I dunno, I did start going to the gym with Changbin and Chan.”

“You look hot.” You said with a smirk, taking his jacket from him, leaving the room to put it in the dryer. Minho stood there with a flush on his face.

“Did she just say…I look hot?!” Minho thought to himself, his mind going a million miles an hour as his heart hammered in his chest. This wasn’t good for him, sure the two of you flirt sometimes, but he knows it’s nothing more than playful, at least on your end.

Minho placed his hand on his chest, taking deep breaths to calm his raging heart. You stroll back into the room and notice him taking deep breaths. “Hey you good?” You near him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Minho flinches slightly at your touch before melting into it.

“Yeah…I’m fine.” He gave a weak grin. “Dude, your face is super red.” You say in a worried tone, your hands cupping his red cheeks. His eyes go wide at your action, you realize and pull away, your face now heating up.

“Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.” You shake your head in embarrassment, you feel like your heart is about to rip through your body. “Fuck.” Minho groaned, moving to sit down on your sofa. “Don’t be sorry…it’s okay, I didn’t mind it.”

Your eyes lock with his, walking over to him almost as if you were entranced by him and he was drawing you in. You stood in front of Minho, gazing down into his pretty brown eyes, your eyes fall to the small little mole on his nose. You smile to yourself as you unconsciously trail your finger along it, down to his lips.

In an instant you’re snapped out of your daze, retracting your hand from Minho’s face. You were about to apologize before being suddenly pulled into his lap. Minho held your hips as you straddled his hips. You face heating up with each passing second. Minho leaned into, hesitantly nudging your nose with his.

Your breath hitches as his eyes shift their gaze to your lips. Unconsciously, you jolt your tongue across your lower lip, causing them to glisten. “Fuck,” you breathe out shakily, “your lips are pretty.” Before you could even process your own words, the boy in front of you pulls you in by the nape of your neck, attaching his lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss as his hands trail down towards your ass before gently squeezing at it. “Min,” you whined, a knowing feeling surged through you that you dreaded, the two of you needed to talk about what’s happening. “Shh, let’s enjoy this, then talk.” He said between kisses.

Minho’s hands made their way to the hem of your shirt, slipping them under, touching your warm skin. “Soft.” He smiled against your lips before cupping your breasts under your shirt causing you to gasp out a moan. Your hands fly to Minho’s hair as he begins peppering kisses along your neck, his hands still groping at your chest.

You roll your hips into his, Minho lets out a pleasurable sigh at the friction. His hands trail down your curves to the swell of your ass before grasping it in his palms. You groaned at the touch, both of his hands and the rolls of your hips.

Minho places a kiss on your collarbone as he lightly smacks your clothed ass. You jolt at the sudden slap but it didn’t induce too much pain.

“Min,” you sigh, fingers pulling against his hair full of need. You can feel arousal pooling, you wouldn’t be surprised if it already stained your shorts by now.

Minho sneaks his hands under the waistband of your shorts and onto your warm skin, gently pushing down your shorts while massaging the flesh there. You allow him to slip it down, shifting your legs so that you can slide the material off.

Before Minho could guide you back into his lap, you stay in your awkward lifted position, slipping out of your underwear, which you can now see has a very evident wet patch on it.

“Fuck.” Minho breathes out, his hands feeling up your curves, “You’re hot you know that?” You feel your cheeks warm at his sudden praise, shifting your head to the size so that the boy underneath you doesn’t see your blush. But of course Minho notices, he smirks pridefully to himself, tongue poking out between his teeth.

Minho brings his hand up to slap your ass again but he stops dead in his tracks as he watches intently as you work your fingers at his jeans. Minho stares at you, the way your cheeks are red, the way your hands shake slightly with excitement, the way you’re rubbing your thighs together as you finally unbutton and unzip his fly.

Minho lifts his hips, after snapping out of his daze that you put him in, allowing you to pull his pants and boxers down in one swoop. His cock freely stood against his lower abdomen, red and veiny, precum leaking at the tip, not too big but definitely above average.

Minho’s desire for you grew even more as he watched you drool over his cock, the one that you had yet to actually touch. “Come sit your pretty pussy on me, yeah kitten?” Your eyes widen at the pet name, a wave of lust rushing through your body that has your cunt clenching around nothing.

Adjusting yourself back comfortably into his lap, you take hold of his cock aligning it with your hole. You probe your throbbing cunt with the tip, an erotic mewl leaving your lips. Sounds of your mains overlapping filled the room as you finally sunk down onto his cock, fully bottoming out.

The stretch burned, it burned so much that it brought tears to your eyes, but that wasn’t about to stop you from rolling your hips down onto Minho. “Wait baby, I didn’t stretch you- just wait okay.” Minho grunts as your forehand falls against his. His hands held you still as you clenched around his cock, adjusting to his size.

“You okay now kitten?” You hastily nod, your hips twitching with neediness. Minho chuckles before guiding you off his cock before moving you back down. You both let out a groan when you start speeding up the pace of your movement.

Minho’s hands now just gripping at your waist as you bounce on his cock. The tip of his cock hits you right in your g spot causing your thighs to tremble slightly. Your orgasm grows closer and closer with each bounce.

Minho bites his lip at the sight in front of him; your lip caught between your teeth as your face scrunches up in pleasure, tits bouncing through your shirt, and your cunt taking his cock so well.

The feeling of you clenching so tightly around him drove him towards his climax.

“Fuck babe, imma cum.” Minho grunted as he bucked his hips up to meet yours. You moaned loudly at how his cock filled you deeply. Your whines begin to rise as your orgasm hits you like a truck. With the combination of you creaming all over his cock and the intense clenching of your cunt, Minho’s cock twitches as he pours his load into you with a deep groan.

“Holy shit,” You breath out shakily, “we just did that.” Minho chuckles as he lifts you enough to slip his cock out, he could feel as his cum dripped out of your cunt and onto his pelvis.

“Fuck I love you…I have for a while.” Minho pants in disbelief as he gazes into your exhausted eyes. You nuzzle your head into his neck with a smile, “I’ve loved you too Min, for a while.”

[kykyonthemoon]

Breakfast

You knew he was dangerous. You knew that you should stay away. But when you found Sylus in the kitchen, making breakfast, he reminded you of what happened between the two of you the night before and you comprehended you had made a bargain with the devil, again.

── .✦ Sylus x Female Reader|MC

── .✦ Tags: R16, MDNI, suggestive themes, biting & marking, drunken kissing & flirting, hangover, pet name - kitten.

── .✦ Word count: 2k3

── .✦ A/N: This story is based on a dream I had after watching the new patch stream on July 6.

This fic also won the Merit Prize from Love and Deepspace Version 2.0 Opposing Visions | Fan Art Contest. I really appreciate all your support on my X <3

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

You awoke in the midst of a haze. You had a vague impression that the blanket was both warm and soft, with a subtle aroma that you had only of late learnt to recognize. You tossed and turned, sliding back and forth on the enormous bed, unable to see the edge. When you rolled your entire body to the opposite side of the bed, you saw that the vacant area was still quite warm.

As if woken, you rose up, brushing aside the matted hair that had fallen in front of your face. Your body felt painful and exhausted. Your head continued whirling. You realized you were wearing a black shirt that was too large for your size. The aroma on the garment was comparable to the position next to you on the bed. You grabbed your head, trying to recall why you were here in the first place.

Sylus' exquisite chamber emerged before your eyes in the gentle dawn light. You blinked. That's right! You had attended an important party, with Sylus' help, the night before. Rather, it was another in a long line of similar deals between you and him, with an unexpected cost. You got what you wanted, but the amount of liquor you drank there left you disoriented. The party ended with you lying in Sylus' arms, seeing him smirk as he looked down at you and said:

“Such a kitten who never knows when to stop.”

Then everything went dark. You could only barely feel Sylus' strong arms wrapping around your body, as well as the warm blanket that surrounded you before you fell asleep.

But as for why you slept in Sylus' room, wearing his shirt…

You tumbled out of bed and walked into the bathroom to wash your face. Cold water helped you become awake. You then glanced at yourself in the mirror. Your hair, which had been pulled up high with several decorations, was entirely removed and fell down. Aside from the shirt you wore, you had immense and tiny red markings all over your body, from your lips and chin, down to your neck and chest. You used extra water to wash your face in an attempt to remove all of those marks, but it simply made them appear more vibrant on your skin.

Your fingertips traced each mark. This one brought to mind an image of Sylus burying his face in your neck. The mark on your ear reminded you of how softly he bit you. There were also marks on your wrists from the force he used to pin you down on the bed.

You exhaled. Memories were slowly returning to you, and they concerned you. You were not terrified of Sylus; rather, you were afraid of the situation you had created the night before. You cautiously opened the door, as if you were afraid that someone was waiting outside to catch you in this kind of situation.

You intended to return to your room, where Sylus had allowed you to remain temporarily while you were here. But after only a few steps, the scent from the kitchen caused your feet to shift direction.

The aroma of breakfast being served made your tummy grumble. But when you heard the faint humming and saw his enormous back obstructing your view of the food, you turned and walked away.

"Kitten is awake now. Wouldn't you come in for breakfast?"

You halted. You did not want to see him immediately after what occurred the night before, but perhaps he had been waiting for you to get up since dawn.

When you returned to the kitchen, Sylus faced you. He wore a crimson and black silk nightshirt. It was not tight, revealing his bare chest, which you were unable to keep your gaze away from since there were several red marks going from his chest deep down to his stomach, even some on his neck. There were other ones that appeared to be scratches.

Knowing where your eyes were focused on, Sylus smirked. Seeing that, your face grew crimson and felt hot, as if you were being cooked on the stove. You instantly looked away, attempting to act normal.

“Good morning… Did you… sleep well?…”

Sylus pulled the bacon off the heat source. Based on the ingredients on the counter, you assumed he was cooking Eggs Benedict. He answered you sarcastically:

“I did not sleep well at all. Since there was a kitten who loved to scratch me so much."

“What kitten?” You claimed to be ignorant in the face of evidence that showed you had slept in Sylus' bed the night before, and were responsible for the markings on his body.

How did things end up like that? You opposed Sylus. And he was just brilliant at driving you insane. He was dangerous. He stood on the other side of the battle. Even if working together with him was simply a temporary solution for both of your concerns, rolling around in bed together and leaving markings on the other's skin was utterly beyond your expectations. You softly bit your lower lip, condemning yourself for allowing things to spiral out of control. While Sylus only grinned casually:

“And yet I thought that the girl who had the courage to pin me down on the bed and leave her marks on my body would have the courage to admit what she did?”

At the moment, you did not know how to face this with as little disruption as possible. Of course, Sylus would not let you escape so quickly. You wanted to go home and keep your distance from him.

“I… am not sure I did what I did on purpose.” You responded. The current circumstance was not good at all, for you. You attempted to remain cool and added: "Besides, don't you have the ability to heal yourself?"

Sylus stared down at his body, then back at you, the corner of his mouth curled up again as if he had just done something sinister.

“Of course I have to leave evidence, in case you deny it like you are doing now.”

You were briefly perplexed and failed to say anything else. Then you suddenly realized you were also his victim. You stepped up to him at the kitchen counter and pointed to your neck.

“What about these? They are also evidence against you!”

Sylus laughed. His warm fingers on your skin sent a shiver down your spine. It was a feeling that, although not inherently awful, was exceedingly treacherous. Treacherous as you began to like it.

"A mark for a mark." Sylus teased you. His fingers traveled to the back of your neck, and the index finger rested on your chin, softly separating your lips and pushing you to gaze up at him. "If you believe it is a crime, what would you do? Lock me up, Miss Gorgeous Hunter? After you took advantage of me to get into that party, got very drunk, and vomited all over the dress I purposely chose for you? After I brought you back here, and you continued to take advantage of my body in that manner?”

You hastily pushed Sylus' hand away. “I was drunk, you were too… It was simply an accident… Can we make it clear?”

Sylus snorted coldly and turned away. The poached eggs required his attention. You did not recall or were acting like that. The previous night, you were the only one who had been drinking.

After the party, Sylus took you home. He had meant to let you relax, but as soon as you went by his private room, you freely opened the door and walked in.

“This is not your room, kitten.”

But you did not listen. You removed your high heels and flung them at Sylus. Then you began wandering back and forth in his room, as if you were searching for his secrets.

Sylus clicked his tongue and stood with his arms folded, waiting to see what you would do. He had to catch you after seeing you stumble around and collide with things in the room. He sat you on the sofa, unlocked the wardrobe, chose a clean shirt of his and threw it on the seat next to you.

“Get changed. Don't dirty my room anymore."

You grinned and took up his shirt to examine it for a moment. Then you tossed it back to him. 

"Help me..."

Sylus rolled his eyes at you before focusing on the clothing in his hand. You rose up, stumbled closer to him, and turned away, pointing at the back zipper of the garment. 

"Help me get changed." You repeated.

Sylus slightly raised the corners of his lips. He slowly pulled the zipper down. Since your body was constantly moving back and forth, his fingertips came into contact with your bare back. You chuckled. While looking at you from behind, he quietly placed the part of his finger that just touched you on his lips and chuckled.

“Be still.”

After helping you get out of your dirty dress, Sylus put his shirt on you, turned you around and helped button it. He did not dispute that while you were displaying your stunning features to him, his gaze lingered on your body for longer than was appropriate. You were simply wearing a set of undergarments beneath his shirt. His hands paused on the final two buttons, debating whether or not to assist in concealing your lovely cleavage behind that shirt.

You grabbed Sylus' wrists and gazed up at him. His throat became dry. You said while drowsy:

“Bed… I want your bed…”

You gestured in that way. His bed was obviously much larger and softer than the one in your room. Sylus drew a breath and bent down to lift you up in his arms. He brought you to the bed and placed you down. 

"You have asked for so much today. Aren't you concerned you won't be able to pay the price?"

“I… can pay!” You boldly declared. As soon as Sylus rose up to depart, you grabbed his arm and pushed him down onto the bed. 

So you started kissing him.

It could not be denied that there were times, many times, during the party that night, you longed to drag him to a corner and kiss his lips until he suffocated. Or you. Either one of you.

How that night ended was still something you could not remember. When you stood in the kitchen with Sylus the next morning with rosy cheeks and body covered in kiss marks left by him, feelings of regret and guilt began to engulf you. You started it first, and Sylus gladly granted your wishes. How long had you been intending to get closer to him? You could not believe why, in a moment of rashness, you could make such a severe mistake. It was not like you were not aware of who the person you pinned down on the bed was or how dangerous he was.

“I… You…” You hesitated. “I really— Ouch!”

Before you could continue speaking, you felt Sylus lift you up and set you on the kitchen counter. His hands were positioned on both sides of your thighs, and his body was forced against you, making it hard for you to escape.

"Stop trying to deny it." His crimson eyes glowed as if he were sulking. Your throat dried up and your mouth became silent when he got this close. Your gaze remained fixated on Sylus' lips, unwilling to leave. He said:

“Let me tell you what happened last night. You kissed me. You scratched me. Then you fell into a deep slumber. As for me, I remained awake since my bed was occupied and I was held and weighed down all night long."

You breathed a sigh of relief, seeming to be at ease and disappointed. Between Sylus and you, nothing had escaped your control or the approval of your rational mind. You might perceive what happened the night before as a mistake that could be fixed. Yet all of a sudden, Sylus' grasp on your hip tightened, and his other hand curled around the back of your head, forcing you to lean back slightly. He gazed at you with a mysterious smile on his lips, making you feel as if you had just fallen into a tangle from which you could not escape.

“Are you going to remain silent and ignore your responsibilities? I still have the evidence on me. You cannot deny that you want me. Yes? No?"

When you regained consciousness, you understood exactly what should and should not be done. Even that was unable to prevent you from thinking about how you fell into Sylus' arms and how he would never turn you down. Given the kiss marks and scratches you left on his body that were visible, how badly must you have yearned for him that night? How about the time before that? And for the time being? Sylus' charm had you wrapped around his fingers. This feeling might be fleeting or it could last forever. It terrified you and left you unsteady. But if Sylus was down in that deep void, you were willing to plunge in, as long as he was there to catch you. 

Sylus learnt he had won the instant he noticed your yearning eyes. He grinned as separated your lips again, asking:

“My precious lady, what price do you wish to pay this time?”

You assumed that in this trade, you would not be at a disadvantage. You deliberately leant towards Sylus, gently biting his lips before pulling away to await his reaction.

Satisfied with your answer, Sylus smirked. His fingers caressed your bottom lip before pushing forward to devour it in the way he had craved since he had ever found you.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mimic IV

McFoord x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You're a little menace with Katie

"So," Caitlin asks as she relaxes back on the bed," How is my sweet baby doing?"

Katie looks away from her phone screen to see you seated in the ensuite bathroom, shaking your water bottle over the toilet paper that you've completely unwound.

"Er...she's...She's alright."

"She's being good? Nice?"

Katie can distinctly remember you throwing your breakfast at her this morning and then screeching in her face when she tried to tell you off.

"Yeah," She lies," So good and so nice."

"And she's making sure that she's including everyone in her playing?"

Katie winces when she remembers that you'd started pushing Courtney away any time that she tried to join in on the game of tag that had been arranged for you after training.

"She's...working on it?"

You're absolutely not working on it but Katie isn't about to admit that.

"Can I talk to her?"

"Yeah, one sec." Katie mutes her phone, placing it down on her blankets as she moves to grab you. "Hey, you. Come over here."

You stare blankly at her from your spot in the middle of the bathroom. The toilet paper is all strewn around you, practically wet mulch after you've emptied the contents of your water bottle onto it.

"Come on, you little gremlin. Come here."

You bum shuffle back into your pile of paper mulch and Katie winces a little, knowing that she's now going to have to change you into a different pair of pyjamas before putting you down to sleep.

"Come on. Come here."

Katie's arms are stretched outwards to you, trying to draw you closer by wiggling her fingers.

"Come on."

You pull a face at her, features all twisted up in disgust as you look at her and you grab a handful of mulch to throw. It doesn't get very far and lands with a kind of undignified squelch on the floor between the both of you.

Katie rolls her eyes. "I...You know what? Never mind."

She sweeps you up into her arms again before you can throw something at her again.

"We're going to have a talk with Mummy, alright?"

Your face noticeably changes at the mention of Caitlin, a wide gummy smile appearing on your face as you kick your legs happily. You manage to get even happier when you see Caitlin on the screen, trying to reach out for her and press kisses onto Katie's phone.

"What is it with you, huh?" Katie teases you that evening as she tucks you into your bed," Complete menace for me but Caitlin's little angel? I don't know who you think you're fooling. She already knows what you're like."

It's a bit like when you turn into a complete little angel when the rest of the family are around too. At home, you continue with your menace behaviours like chasing the cats or pushing things off countertops or digging holes in the garden for someone to accidentally trip over. But as soon as someone who doesn't usually visits, comes around it's like you're trying to show them that you're really a little sweetheart who doesn't have a mean bone in your body.

It makes Katie look particularly silly to her parents when she's complained to them about you dropping your toys into the toilet to cause a blockage but then they come around and all you seem to want is affection from them - no hint of your snapping teeth or angry little limbs.

The change in the behaviour only seems to be with family though because you have no issue with being your usual menace self with the girls on the team.

Something that Katie is acutely aware of as she watches you try to tackle Denise, trying to force her to the ground with all of your toddler strength.

"You can just tell her to stop!" Katie calls over," Or put her back on the leash!"

"It's fine!" Denise says, standing firm even as you try to shoulder barge her to the ground," It's kind of like a kitten trying to fight."

"Not a kitten!" You deny," I...I big an' scary!"

"So big and scary," Denise laughs as she pats your head," Like a little baby wildcat."

You frown as you try to work out if that's Denise calling you a kitten again just in a different way but in the end, you can't be bothered to think about it anymore as you try to push her over even harder than before.

"You might end up with bruises," Katie warns her," Just put her on the leash. I promise, it won't hurt her feelings."

"I'm fine, really." Denise waves away her concerns. "This little one isn't causing any problems."

"Are you sure?" A distinctly not-Irish says from behind Katie," Because she's got a way of starting problems before you know it."

Katie didn't even get the chance to turn away before you'd announced the newcomer.

"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy, I miss you!"

You abandon whatever you were trying to do with Denise to go toddling straight over to Caitlin, who kneels down with her arms out to welcome you.

"Mummy! Mummy!"

"Well hi there, sweet girl," Caitlin coos as you throw yourself into her arms," You're being very cuddly right now."

"Miss you, Mummy!" You reply, curling deeper into her arms and resting your head on her shoulder.

"You're early," Katie says with a warm smile," I thought you said you would barely make it to the match."

"I managed to get an earlier flight," Caitlin replies as she drops a soft kiss to your hair," I missed my girls."

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt.14

Word Count: 27.1k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, pregnancy sex, cunninlingus, pet names like kitten, sweetie, honey, xavier appears, rafayel appears, somewhat gory flashbacks

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @exorcxqsm , @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, @depressedwhore, @nyumin, @kiwookse, @anisha24-blog1, @weepingluminarytale, @riamir, @definitionistato, @xxhayashixx, @adraxsteia, @hargun-s @cayraeley, @xxfaithlynxx, @palomanh, @spaceace111

AN: This is of course on A03! Loooong chapter yall, this one is juicy with the drama and inner turmoil. This took forever to write and upload cause of finals week. Pretty intense chapter, just a warning. Don't be fooled by the pretty pictures LOL <3

“Aren’t you tired of pretending?” he murmured, leaning closer. His breath brushed against your ear, warm and tantalizing, sending another shiver skittering down your spine. “I see it in your eyes. The need.” “The way you shift your legs together when I’m dressing in front of you…the way your eyes wander, even when you think I don’t notice.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts to sound firm. “You don't know?,” he said, his voice calm but laced with something deeper, something resolute. “Let me show you then, sweetie”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10 Pt.11 Pt.12 Pt.13 Pt.15

You were forgetting his voice.

The realization crept up on you slowly, like a shadow stretching longer and darker as the day went on. At first, you didn’t notice—not with everything else going on. There was too much chaos, too much survival, too much of him. But the truth struck one day in the most unassuming of moments: standing under the steaming water of the shower, staring blankly at the tile, it hit you like a tidal wave.

What did Xavier sound like?

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to remember. You could see him clearly—his smile, the way his hair fell just slightly into his eyes when he tilted his head, the way his eyes shimmered when he spoke, always so animated, so alive. You could recall the exact shade of his laugh, not the sound but the feeling it left behind, like sunshine lingering on your skin. But his voice? The sound of his voice? It was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

You tried to piece it together. He was kind of quiet, wasn’t he? Reserved in a way that made you lean in closer when he spoke. Soft, but not weak. Gentle, but steady. There was something soothing in the timbre, wasn’t there? Or maybe it was deep, deeper than you thought now that you were questioning it?

Your hands ran through your wet hair as if the motion could pull the memory out from wherever it had hidden itself. But there was nothing. No echoes, no fragments. Just a hollow ache where his voice should have been.

How long had it been since you last saw him? Since the last time he looked at you with those eyes, the ones that never failed to make you feel safe, no matter the chaos? You strained to count the days, weeks, months, but the timeline blurred. There were only two markers in your life now: before Sylus and after Sylus.

The before was fading.

It wasn’t just Xavier’s voice, you realized. It was everything. The smell of your old apartment, the way the sunlight streamed through the windows in the early morning, the feeling of the cool tile floor beneath your feet. The details were slipping away, like fog burning off in the sun. One by one, your memories were being eclipsed by the sharp edges of your new reality, until even Xavier, the person who had once been your anchor, was starting to become a ghost.

You scrubbed your face with your hands, the water pouring over you, trying to shake the despair creeping in. This wasn’t the time to cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Sylus.

You wouldn’t let him see. You wouldn’t let him know how much it hurt, how hollow you felt, how the guilt gnawed at you with every passing day that you couldn’t hold on to the fragments of the person you used to be. Sylus already held too much power over you—over your present, over your future. You wouldn’t let him take your grief too.

So, instead, you tossed and turned with it, swallowed it down until it sat heavy in your chest. Every night, you tried to dream of Xavier’s voice, reaching for it in the recesses of your mind, but it stayed just out of reach. And every morning, you woke up feeling like you had lost him all over again.

You turn to look at Sylus, who had stationed himself on the small stool by the bathroom opening—a constant, looming presence since the accident last week. Ever since you’d slipped, he had made it his personal mission to watch over you while you showered. It wasn’t about lust. No, Sylus didn’t leer or make comments. This was something else entirely—worry, perhaps? Obsession? You weren’t sure anymore. At six months, you were getting large enough that every movement felt precarious, every step required precision. All it had taken was one misplaced foot, the slick tiles betraying you, and you’d nearly gone tumbling.

You could still hear the scream that tore out of your throat, the panicked gasp as your hands shot out to grip the shower handle bars. Sylus had rushed in immediately, rushing into the bathroom. His wild, frantic eyes had scanned you for injuries as though you were made of glass. And no matter how many times you’d told him since then that you wanted to shower alone, he had never left the room again.

The water stopped cascading around you as you shut the shower off, sighing softly at the sound of it draining away. You stepped out, slow and careful, aware of every movement. Sylus was on his feet before you even reached the edge of the shower, the towel already in his hands. He moved toward you swiftly but not aggressively, draping the towel around your shoulders with mechanical efficiency. His hands, though firm, weren’t rough.

For a fleeting moment, you felt a flicker of gratitude that his gaze never lingered too long on your body. He wasn’t ogling, wasn’t leering—it wasn’t that kind of attention. And yet, the tension in his presence never left. The silence between you both was filled with unspoken words, unsaid things.

The sound of the chain on your ankle clinking against the tile echoed faintly in the humid bathroom. That sound was a constant reminder of your reality, the sharp tether that kept you grounded in more ways than one. Sylus crouched slightly, leaning in closer. His hand, damp and warm, brushed your face, his thumb tenderly stroking along your cheek.

You froze at first, your body stiffening instinctively. But you were too tired to fight him, especially not after…that.

Flashes of the memory burned through your mind—Sylus with a bullet wound in his chest, blood pooling far too quickly for you to process. The sight, the sound of it, the flash of the shot—it all slammed into your brain like a battering ram. You blinked hard, shaking it away. You didn’t want to think about that now. You couldn’t.

Sylus’s voice broke the silence, his tone gentle, too casual for the way he was looking at you. “Your face feels a little swollen,” he murmured, his thumb still lingering just under your cheekbone.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard, before laughing awkwardly. “Everything feels swollen,” you replied, your voice flat with exasperation. “My hands, my feet, my legs—it’s all miserable. The joys of pregnancy, right?”

Sylus tilted his head slightly, the concern in his eyes softening, though it never quite left. “Do your feet feel swollen right now?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You sighed, nodding. “Yeah, they feel like balloons.”

What he did next stunned you. Without a word, Sylus crouched, his fingers deftly working the lock on the chain around your ankle. You heard the soft click before you felt it—the chain falling away, leaving your ankle bare for the first time in what felt like forever. The relief was immediate, a strange weight lifting both physically and mentally, but it left behind a hollow unease.

He stood, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “Okay then,” he said softly. “You don’t have to wear that anymore.”

You stared at him, your emotions swirling into something you couldn’t define. Conflicted, you grimaced, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Yeah, until you find me a bigger one.”

Sylus frowned slightly, but it wasn’t anger. If anything, he looked… hurt? Confused? His reply came without hesitation. “Why would I do that?”

The simplicity of the question, the sincerity in his voice, was jarring. You wanted to believe he was being kind, that this was a gesture of trust, of goodwill. But you knew better than to take Sylus at face value. Every action, no matter how tender, had a shadow behind it—a motive you couldn’t quite see.

You didn’t answer him. You just turned away, clutching the towel closer to your body, your heart pounding as you tried to decide if this was freedom or just another chain in disguise.

Should you feel grateful? No. That thought rooted itself firmly in your mind as you stood there, damp and vulnerable, clutching the towel Sylus had wrapped around you. This had to be some kind of power play. It always was, wasn’t it? Every gesture, every word from him, even the gentle ones, seemed to carry the shadow of manipulation. And yet, as you stared into his eyes, searching for that hint of control, you found something else—stark genuineness. Or at least, that’s what it looked like.

Maybe he was just good at pretending.

He gazed back at you, his brow furrowing slightly, confusion flickering across his face. He was probably wondering why you hadn’t looked away yet, why your eyes hadn’t shifted elsewhere. Truthfully, you didn’t know either. Maybe you were hoping that if you stared long enough, you’d see something deeper. Something truer. Maybe you could pierce through his perfect facade and catch a glimpse of his soul—if he even had one.

Because whatever Sylus was, it wasn’t human. You knew that now, undeniably, even if he’d never admitted it outright.

What are you?

You’d asked that question so many times since the fight, the words raw, desperate, slipping from your lips like a plea. But no matter how you phrased it, no matter how fiercely you demanded answers, Sylus had always sidestepped you with the same frustrating ease. His deflections were maddening, his calm demeanor only fueling your resentment.

“What about our daughter?” you’d asked once, your voice trembling as you tried a different angle. “She’s human, right?”

You thought you had him then, that you’d finally cornered him. But he’d only smiled faintly, his tone impossibly soft when he answered, “Of course. Her mother is human. Why wouldn’t she be?”

It wasn’t what he said that haunted you—it was what he didn’t say.

Now, standing before him, your mind drifted again to the memory of that moment, of how carefully he’d chosen his words. Your gaze dropped lower, lingering on his chest. You could see it in your mind’s eye: the bullet wound, the dark, ragged hole where his heart should have been. You could still remember the sharp tang of blood in the air, the way his body had slightly shook with the sudden bang. And yet, just as quickly, you could recall the impossible—the way that gaping wound had closed on its own, the way Sylus had stood up like nothing had happened. Death couldn’t touch him.

“Kitten, your arms,” Sylus said, his voice drawing you abruptly out of your thoughts.

You blinked at him, startled, before realizing he was holding up a tank top. He must have brought it into the bathroom with him. His tone wasn’t impatient, but there was a quiet insistence in his words.

“Oh…sorry,” you muttered, hurriedly drying the rest of your skin before stepping closer to him. You let him help you, too tired to argue, as he slipped the fabric over your head and guided it into place. His hands were careful, steady, and methodical, but you couldn’t help but notice how the tank top felt tighter than before. The material clung to your body, stretching over your belly in a way that made you wince.

Your eyes caught the reflection of yourself in the mirror, and the sight made you freeze. Your stomach protruded awkwardly, stretching the thin fabric of the tank top to its limit. Your body didn’t look like your own anymore. It looked…alien. Swollen. Foreign.

The tears came before you could stop them. They blurred your vision, hot and stinging, and you clamped a hand over your mouth as a pathetic whimper slipped through.

“I’m fat,” you choked out, your voice trembling with raw emotion. The words sounded ugly in the air, but you couldn’t hold them back. “I’m…I’m fat,” you whimpered again, your voice cracking as the dam finally broke. The sobs came hard and fast, your shoulders shaking with the force of them.

Sylus stepped closer immediately, his presence looming but his touch tender. “Kitten,” he murmured, his voice calm, soothing, as though you were a frightened animal he was trying to comfort. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not fat—you’re pregnant.”

His hands reached for your face, his fingers brushing away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. His touch was light, almost reverent, and it made you want to pull away even as you leaned into it. “Your body has to make room for the baby,” he continued, his tone patient. “It’s okay that you don’t fit your clothes anymore. I’ll have the twins buy stuff that's bigger soon. Something comfortable.”

The words were meant to comfort, but they only made the ache in your chest worse. You didn’t want bigger clothes. You didn’t want to make room. You wanted freedom.

The thought hit you like a slap, and suddenly you couldn’t take it anymore. The frustration, the helplessness, the overwhelming weight of it all—it boiled over, spilling out before you could stop it.

You shoved him hard, your hands pressing against his chest with more force than you thought you had. Sylus stumbled back a step, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Easy for you to say!” you snapped, your voice rising with a fury that had been building for weeks. “You don’t have to carry around extra pounds! You’re not the one whose body doesn’t feel like their own anymore!”

You took a shaky step back, your breath coming in uneven gasps. The words spilled out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. “You did this to me! You put your gigantic fucking kid in here, and now I’m fucking fat!”

The bathroom fell silent except for your labored breathing. Sylus stood frozen, his expression unreadable as he stared at you. His eyes searched yours, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw something there—hurt, maybe? Regret? You were almost shocked he didn't give you that usual smirk of his.

And you didn’t care. Not now. Not with the weight of everything crushing you, pressing down on your chest like a heavy, unrelenting hand.

Sylus moved closer, his steps deliberate but unthreatening. The tension in the room felt almost palpable, like a storm about to break, but his movements were calm, careful, calculated. When he reached you, he pulled you into an embrace—not tight or forceful, but firm and steady, as though he was trying to anchor you. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, but he was mindful, cautious to keep from putting any pressure on your swollen belly. It was a careful kind of tenderness that only irritated you more, as though his gentleness could somehow make up for everything else.

"Stress isn't good for the baby. Just breathe".

You stiffened at first, your instincts screaming at you to push him away, but his hold wasn’t suffocating. He didn’t force it. He didn’t press. His presence loomed, yes, but it was steady, and some small, buried part of you couldn’t deny that it felt grounding, whether you liked it or not.

“I won’t deny,” Sylus began, his voice low and deliberate, “that I’m half the reason she’s in there right now.” He leaned down slightly, lowering himself to your eye level, his crimson gaze boring into yours with an intensity that made it hard to look away. There was something in his expression—sincerity, maybe?—that made your breath hitch. “If I take responsibility” he continued, a faint lilt of dry humor sneaking into his tone, “will you put this on?”

You blinked, confused for a moment, before following his gesture toward the counter. There, neatly folded, was a shirt you hadn’t noticed before. Of course, he had thought of everything. He always did. The sight of it annoyed you in ways you couldn’t fully articulate. Did he ever falter? Did he ever leave anything to chance? You scoffed loudly, sniffing as you fought back the lingering tears from earlier.

“Not like you have a choice but to take responsibility,” you grumbled, bitterness creeping into your voice. “It’s your child, after all.”

“Yes, of course,” Sylus replied easily, his tone soft but steady. “I got you pregnant. It’s only natural you’re my responsibility.”

The words were delivered with such simplicity, such matter-of-factness, that they stunned you into silence for a moment. You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, he moved again, this time reaching for the hem of your tank top. His movements were smooth and deliberate, not rushed or invasive. His hands brushed yours briefly as he helped pull the tank up and over your head. The touch was fleeting, but it left you shivering—not from the cold but from the vulnerability of the moment.

You let him take the tank top off, standing there awkwardly in just your towel as he grabbed the larger shirt from the counter. He unfolded it with care before guiding it over your head and down your arms. His hands never lingered, never wandered. He moved with the same focused precision as always, almost clinical in his approach, but somehow it didn’t feel detached. It felt intentional, careful, as if he were trying to avoid making you feel even more exposed than you already did.

The shirt settled over your body, the fabric draping much more comfortably than the tank top had. It was plain black, nothing remarkable, but it felt infinitely better than the too-tight tank you’d just been wearing. As the material brushed against your skin, you caught a faint, familiar scent clinging to it. A clean, woodsy fragrance with hints of cedar and maybe something warmer—something distinctly Sylus.

“This is your shirt, isn’t it?” you asked after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Sylus nodded once, his expression calm but curious. “Is that a problem?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched you, his crimson eyes catching the dim light in the bathroom.

You hesitated, your gaze drifting back down to the shirt. It smelled… nice. Warm. Familiar. He always smelled nice, didn’t he? It was one of those irritatingly persistent truths about Sylus that you couldn’t deny, no matter how much you wanted to. The scent wrapped around you as much as the fabric did, and you hated how it made you feel.

You didn’t answer him right away, unsure of what to say. Did it bother you? Did it comfort you? You weren’t sure. The scent reminded you of how meticulous he was, how nothing ever slipped past his control. But at the same time…it was oddly soothing. It grounded you in a way you couldn’t explain, even if it infuriated you to admit it.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled eventually, your tone clipped, though your hands fidgeted with the hem of the shirt. “Not like I have much of a choice.”

Sylus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, giving you just enough space to feel like you weren’t trapped, though his gaze never wavered. He watched you with a kind of quiet intensity that made your skin prickle, as if he were reading every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. It was infuriating and disarming all at once.

You caught yourself staring again, your eyes drifting back to the faint curve of his lips, the sharp line of his jaw, the crimson gleam in his eyes. There were so many things you hated about him—his control, his secrets, his inhumanity—but his presence was so overwhelming, so undeniable, that it was impossible to ignore. And the scent of him, now wrapped around you in the form of this shirt, was like a constant reminder of everything you couldn’t escape.

The shirt was plain. Simple. But it carried the weight of his existence, his presence, his dominance over your life. And yet, as much as you hated it, you couldn’t deny that the scent of cedar and warmth was… alluring. You bit your lip, unwilling to admit it to him or yourself.

Sylus tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for you to say something more. When you didn’t, he finally broke the silence. “If it’s too loose, I can get you something else,” he offered, his voice softer now, devoid of the teasing edge from earlier.

You shook your head quickly, unwilling to let him do anything more for you. “It’s fine,” you said again, your voice firmer this time. But your hands lingered on the fabric, the faint scent brushing against your senses and leaving you more conflicted than ever.

After everything...you should hate him. You should be screaming at him everyday. Cursing him everyday. Maybe you had started getting used to brushing off chaos. Used to shoving traumatic memories into the back of your brain for sanity. You never thought one man could singlehandedly break you down this much. To the point that you had begun to accept the chaos. Little by little.

The truth was, you didn’t know how to feel. And that scared you more than anything.

The trauma doesn’t vanish just because you try to push it aside though. It lingers, festering in the quiet moments, slipping into the spaces where your mind is unoccupied. And at night, when you have no distractions, no walls to hold it back, it takes over completely. That’s when it’s the hardest—when you can’t force yourself to ignore your inner thoughts. In your dreams, the ones where your defenses crumble, the memories and fears you bury during the day come rushing forward, demanding your attention.

Tonight, your mind doesn’t conjure Xavier, with his fading voice, or Reese, with his shadowy presence. No. This time, the dreams are consumed by Sylus. Not the Sylus you deal with every day, with his careful touches and unnerving patience. This is the Sylus who handed you a gun, eyes locked on yours, and told you to pull the trigger. The Sylus who asked you to end him.

You dream of that moment again—except this time, the gun is already in your hands, its weight cold and unyielding. Your fingers tremble, knuckles whitening as you grip it tighter, the barrel pointed directly at his chest. His expression is calm, almost serene, as though he’s not standing at the edge of oblivion but on the precipice of something inevitable.

“Do it,” his voice echoes in your mind, soft but resolute. “You want to kill me don't you?"

You should feel relief. Joy, even. After everything, shouldn’t this be justice? But it isn’t. You’re frozen, your hand shaking as tears blur your vision. Your chest feels tight, constricted, as if some invisible force is pulling you back, keeping you from pulling the trigger. He doesn’t move, doesn’t plead. He just waits, like this was always the plan. And yet…you can’t do it.

Why? Why don’t you pull the trigger? Why do you hesitate? Why do your fingers go slack, the gun slipping from your hands and clattering to the ground? Why are you screaming as the deafening crack of the gunshot rings out anyway? The bullet tears through his chest, and you’re not sure if it was you or someone else. All you know is that he’s falling, collapsing to the ground, lifeless and still. Blood pools around him, dark and spreading, and you can’t stop screaming his name.

Your sobs wrench you awake. You sit up suddenly, gasping for air as your heart pounds violently in your chest. The room is dark, the shadows long and deep, but the dream clings to you, wrapping itself around your senses like a suffocating shroud. For a moment, you’re still there—in that place, holding the gun, watching him fall.

“Hey, hey,” a voice cuts through the haze, pulling you back to the present. Sylus’s hand is on your shoulder, firm but not forceful, shaking you gently. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

His crimson eyes are softer now, lacking their usual sharpness, as they search your face for signs of distress. “You were whimpering,” he says quietly. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him, your breath still coming in shallow gasps, but you force yourself to nod. “Yeah,” you say, your voice hoarse and unconvincing. You look away quickly, desperate to shake off the lingering remnants of the dream. “Why wouldn’t I be? I have nightmares practically every night Sylus.”

Sylus doesn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing slightly. “You muttered my name,” he adds after a beat, his voice light, almost teasing. “Were you dreaming of me?”

You shoot him a sharp look, and his faint smirk fades, replaced by an expression of quiet understanding. He raises his hands slightly in surrender, his voice turning serious again. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he says. “If you don’t want to.”

You shrug, still trying to slow your racing heart. The dream had felt too real, too vivid, and you didn’t trust yourself to talk about it yet. “Let’s just… not,” you mumble, pulling your knees to your chest.

Sylus nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he shifts the conversation. “How about we talk about something else?” he suggests, his voice warm but careful, as though he’s testing the waters. “Names. Have you thought about any?”

“Names?” you echo, the word feeling foreign as it leaves your lips.

“She’s a few months from being born,” Sylus continues, his tone calm but probing. “Do you have any ideas?”

The question catches you off guard. Names. You hadn’t thought about it—not seriously. You’d been too focused on surviving, on getting through each day, to think about something as simple, as normal, as naming your daughter. The realization settles over you like a weight, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“I…” you start, your voice trailing off as your hand instinctively moves to rest on your belly. It’s strange, thinking about her like this, as someone with a name, an identity. Your chest tightens, not with fear but with something softer. Something like hope, though you’re too afraid to call it that.

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I don’t know,” you admit finally. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it.”

Sylus tilts his head slightly, his expression unreadable but patient. “Well,” he says slowly, “maybe now’s a good time to start.”

You bite your lip, the question hanging between you both. You hadn’t let yourself think that far ahead. You hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine what her life might look like, what kind of world she’d be born into. But now, with the question lingering in the air, you feel compelled to say something, to fill the silence.

“Uh…how about…Evelyn?” you blurt out, the first name that comes to mind. It sounds strange as you say it, as if you’re trying on someone else’s thoughts.

Sylus raises an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Evelyn?” he repeats, his tone somewhere between amused and curious.

You shrug, already regretting the suggestion. “I don’t know. It’s…a name.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and almost comforting. “It’s a start,” he says, leaning back slightly. “I don't think we should name the baby something random though. It should be a little thoughtful yeah?”

You glance at him, unsure if he’s mocking you or genuinely trying to help. His crimson eyes hold a faint glimmer of amusement, but there’s no malice in it. For once, it feels like he’s just…talking to you. Like a normal person. Like someone trying to plan for the future.

The thought makes your chest tighten again, but this time, you don’t push it away. Instead, you let it sit there, the possibility of names, of plans, of a life beyond the chaos. It feels fragile, tentative, but maybe, just maybe, it’s something to hold onto.

You were so tired. Tired of feeling scared. Tired of yearning for freedom that always seemed just out of reach. The weight of it had been crushing you for months, dragging you down with every small reminder of your reality. Tired of keeping your guard up, of treating every moment like a battle you had to win. It wore you down, chipped away at your resolve, until there were moments—just like this one—where you didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

And maybe that was okay. Maybe, for once, you could lean into the quiet. Into the stillness of the night and the absence of yelling, control, or guns. For this moment, at least, there was none of that. Just two people sitting together in the dark. Two soon-to-be parents, talking about their daughter.

You studied Sylus in the faint light, the crimson of his eyes softened to something less intimidating, less piercing. His expression was calm, his usual intensity dimmed. For once, he wasn’t looming over you with that overbearing aura of control. He just…was. A man sitting beside you. A man who was going to be the father of your child. The thought should have felt suffocating, but tonight, it didn’t.

For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel the urge to fight him. You didn’t care if your emotions were genuine or just a mask you were putting on to get through the night. For now, you let yourself imagine that you weren’t a prisoner. That you weren’t someone trapped in a life you didn’t choose. For now, you could be his fiancée, his partner, the mother of his child. That’s what you were, right? His fiancée. His pregnant fiancée. And for once, that wasn’t terrifying. It was just…something that was.

You were definitely going crazy.

A faint, tentative smile pulled at your lips as you looked at him, unsure if it was real or if you were forcing it. You didn’t care. Not now. Not tonight. “Well…” you said softly, your tone lighter than it had been in days, “what do you suggest, then, sir?” You scoffed, adding a playful roll of your eyes for effect.

Sylus tilted his head, a flicker of amusement dancing across his face. “Sir?” he repeated, his voice tinged with mock offense. “I don’t recall being knighted, but I’ll take it.”

You smirked, crossing your arms and leaning back against the headboard. “Come on, then,” you teased. “If Evelyn's so bad, what’s your grand idea for a name?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I didn't say it was a bad name. Ruby,” he said with a small nod. “Or maybe Sapphire.”

The laughter bubbled up before you could stop it, the sound catching you off guard with its suddenness. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t fake. It was real, genuine, and it felt…good. You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying to stifle it, but Sylus raised an eyebrow, his expression curious.

“What?” he asked, his voice dipping into that familiar amused lilt. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” you said between giggles, your shoulders shaking slightly as you tried to compose yourself. “You sure do like your gems, huh?”

Sylus’s lips quirked upward into a smile, one of the rare ones that felt real and unguarded. “Is a daughter not the most precious gem in the world?” he replied, his tone soft but filled with a warmth that caught you off guard.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips refused to disappear. “That was so cheesy,” you said, shaking your head.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a faint chuckle. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His words settled in the air between you, lingering like a warm embrace. You weren’t sure how to respond, so you didn’t. Instead, you let yourself lean into the moment, let yourself imagine what it might be like to raise her, this little girl who was half of you and half of him. It was a fragile thought, one that felt precarious and strange, but it was also…comforting.

It was actually nice to be delusional for a bit.

“Ruby,” you said after a moment, testing the name on your tongue. “It’s…not bad, I guess.”

“Not bad?” Sylus repeated, his tone teasing again. “That’s practically a glowing endorsement coming from you.”

You shot him a look, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curving upward in spite of yourself. “Don’t push it,” you said lightly, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, the weight of the past few months didn’t feel so heavy. The walls of the room didn’t feel so confining, and the imaginary chain around your neck was almost forgotten. Almost. You weren’t free—not really—but in this moment, you let yourself imagine that you were.

“So,” Sylus said after a beat, his voice softer now. “If Ruby’s not terrible, does that mean it’s a contender?”

You hesitated, your hand unconsciously moving to rest on your belly. You thought about her, this little life growing inside you, and for the first time, you let yourself picture her with a name. Ruby. It felt strange, attaching something so personal, so permanent, to someone you hadn’t even met yet. Someone you weren't even sure you could love. But it also felt…right. Or at least, like a start.

“Maybe,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve really thought about it before.”

Sylus tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady but not intrusive. “Why not?”

You shrugged, your fingers brushing absently over the fabric of the shirt he’d given you. “I guess…I’ve been too focused on everything else,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s hard to think about names when you don’t even know what the future looks like.”

His expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. “Then maybe we should start imagining it,” he said quietly. “Together.”

You looked at him, your breath catching for just a moment. There was something in his voice, something in the way he said it, that made you want to believe him. Made you want to believe that, maybe, the future didn’t have to be so terrifying. That, maybe, you could find a way to hold onto moments like this.

You didn’t say anything else, but when you leaned back against the headboard, your hand still resting on your belly, you didn’t feel so alone. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself imagine what her life might be like. Ruby, or whatever her name might end up being, was coming. And for the first time, you thought…maybe that was okay.

Even if it was all a lie.

You were tired. Mind-numbing, soul-crushing tired. It wasn’t just physical, though your body constantly ached and groaned under the weight of pregnancy. No, it was the kind of tired that seeped into your very being, that made even the simplest of tasks feel monumental. You were tired of waddling around, tired of the constant heartburn, tired of your emotions riding a hormonal rollercoaster that never seemed to stop. But most of all, you were tired of peeing.

The baby—or your bladder’s nemesis, as you’d started calling her—seemed to take great delight in squishing your insides in the most inconvenient ways possible. You couldn’t make it through an hour without feeling the urgent need to waddle to the bathroom, only to sit there and produce a few pitiful drops. It was infuriating. Exhausting. Almost comical, if you weren’t so over it.

You sighed as you flopped back onto the couch, glaring at the ceiling as if it could somehow sympathize with your plight. “I swear,” you muttered under your breath, “I’m going to make her pay me back for this one day. She owes me. Big time.”

But no matter how much you complained, there were moments that made you pause. Moments that reminded you that, despite the aches and discomfort, you were carrying life inside you. Your daughter, this little person who already seemed to have so much personality. She was a tiny tyrant, sure, but she was also her own person now it seemed.

Even your cravings, as strange and unpredictable as they were, had become part of the bizarre tapestry of this experience. You’d learned to ignore the look Sylus gave you whenever you requested something outlandish. Like the time you swore that vanilla ice cream and pickles were the greatest culinary invention ever.

“I swear on my own soul,” you’d told him, your tone solemn but your eyes sparkling with mischief, “vanilla ice cream and pickles are delicious, Sy.”

He’d shaken his head at you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, but he’d indulged you anyway. He always did. These days, Sylus seemed to exist solely to fulfill your every whim, no matter how absurd. His eyes, once so sharp and calculating, now held something softer whenever they landed on you.

"I feel like having cake today"

"What flavor, honey?"

"Sylus, I think I want the crib pink instead of white"

"As you wish, but isn't this the fifth time you've changed your mind?"

"Can I have your pillows? My backs hurting..."

"You already have most of the pillows on your side, sweetie".

"...."

"Alright, here you go."

He also hadn’t made you wear the chain for weeks now. At first, you’d been suspicious, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Freedom wasn’t something you associated with Sylus—not real freedom, anyway. But as the days passed, you began to relax, to accept the absence of the cold, metallic weight around your ankle. You weren’t truly free, not in the way you craved, but it was something. A step forward.

And Sylus…he had changed too. He was still the man who had held you captive, the man who had made decisions for you that you could never forget. Your captor, your rapist. He was still all of those things. But he was also the man who fetched you ice cream at two in the morning without complaint. The man who held your hair back when nausea overtook you and stayed up with you when insomnia refused to let you sleep. The man who had begun to apologize, not with words, but with actions.

The past still lingered between you, a shadow neither of you could fully escape. But you found yourself not thinking about it as much. There wasn’t space for it in your mind, not when your thoughts were consumed by other things: the relentless need to pee, the insatiable cravings, the constant stomach aches, and the naps that never seemed long enough.

Your daughter was growing, and she made sure you knew it. At seven months, your latest ultrasound had shown that she was thriving. Dr. Merill had smiled, pointing out her tiny feet and her steadily beating heart. She was very much alive, and she was letting you know it every single day.

She kicked nonstop, especially when you ate. If she liked what you fed her, she’d kick happily, little thumps that made you wince and smile in equal measure. But if she didn’t? Oh, she’d make you pay for that too. The nausea would creep in, or a sharp jab to the ribs would have you doubling over. It was like she was already forming very strong opinions, much like her father.

You rested a hand on your belly, feeling her shift beneath your palm. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with amusement. She responded with a kick, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Some days, you weren't sure how to feel about her. And others...were like today. You felt okay with her. She seemed to be okay with you too.

Sylus entered the room just then, carrying a tray with a glass of water and a plate of something you hadn’t asked for but probably wanted anyway. His crimson eyes landed on you, his expression softening as he noticed the way your hand rested on your belly.

“She’s been fussy today,” you said, glancing up at him.

“She’s always fussy,” he replied, setting the tray down beside you. “Like her mother.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite to it. “Don’t start,” you warned lightly, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

He sat beside you, his presence warm and steady. You glanced at him, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes. He’d been with you through every late-night craving, every ache, every complaint. You didn’t want to admit it, but he’d been good to you. Better than you’d expected.

It was the least he could do after everything.

“Thank you,” you said suddenly, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

Sylus tilted his head, his brows raising slightly. “For what?”

“For…everything,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’m a pain right now.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “You’re not a pain,” he said, his hand brushing yours lightly. “You’re pregnant. There’s a difference.”

You looked away, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but his words stayed with you. For all the mess, for all the past, there was something steady about him now. Something that made you feel…not safe, exactly, but cared for at least.

Your daughter kicked again, harder this time, and you winced, letting out a small laugh. “See what I mean? Trouble,” you said, rubbing your belly gently.

“She’s strong,” Sylus said, his voice filled with quiet pride. “She gets that from you.”

You didn’t respond, but as you leaned back against the couch, your hand still resting on your belly, you pondered what he just said.

You didn’t feel strong. Not in the way people romanticized strength. It wasn’t some fiery, defiant thing coursing through your veins. No. If anything, you felt...compliant. Like someone who had simply adapted to their circumstances, slipping into the role that had been carved out for them.

Maybe it was survival. Or maybe it was exhaustion.

You had learned the hard way that certain things didn’t work. Anger? Useless. You could scream at Sylus until your voice gave out, but he would only watch you with that maddening calm, as if your fury was nothing but a passing storm. Running? That didn’t work either. You’d tried that too, and all it had gotten you was a painfully short leash—both figuratively and literally.

And killing him? That was the one that haunted you the most. You had the chance. You had the gun in your hands. He had given it to you. He had told you to pull the trigger, had stood there, waiting. Daring you. But you couldn’t do it. Not because you didn’t want to—God, you had wanted to—but because some part of you, some deep, hidden part you couldn’t explain, had hesitated. And that hesitation had cost you everything.

And then...he hadn't even died.

So, what more could you do?

Now, all that fight was gone. Or maybe it wasn’t gone—maybe it was just buried under the weight of the life growing inside you. Because it wasn’t just about you anymore. There was a baby now, a tiny, helpless life that depended on you. Every time you felt her kick, every time she shifted or nudged, it was a reminder that she was there. She was real. And she didn’t deserve to feel the chaos that swirled inside you. She didn’t deserve to be born into a world filled with your anger and fear.

So, you picked your battles. You didn't think about things that would make your heart race and your blood boil. You didn't think about Xavier or wonder where he was/if he was safe.

The easiest battle to surrender was Sylus’s care. He wanted to take care of you. It was part of his control, you knew that. But it was also something you couldn’t fight against anymore. Not when your body ached, and your mind felt frayed at the edges. Not when the cravings hit in the middle of the night, or when you couldn’t roll over without help. You told yourself it was just practicality—letting him take care of you because it was easier. Because it was less exhausting than fighting him every step of the way.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the whole truth. The more time passed, the more you found yourself leaning on him. Not just willingly, but inevitably. He was there, steady and constant, filling the cracks in the world he had broken around you. You hated it. Hated how much easier it was to let him help you than to resist. Hated how he was always there when you needed him, as if he could sense your struggles before you even voiced them.

And the worst part? You knew this was what he wanted. He wanted you to rely on him. To need him. And it was working.

You stretch your neck a bit with a heavy sigh, one hand still resting on your swollen belly. The baby nudged against your palm, a gentle reminder of her presence, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly. “I don't know what the future holds for either of us” you murmured softly. “But its not your fault. I'm trying my best.”

You kept your hand resting on your belly, absently tracing slow circles over the fabric of your shirt, when Sylus moved. He didn’t say anything, didn’t give you a warning. He just leaned down, resting his head against your bump gently, almost reverently. The weight of it was light, careful, as though he was trying not to disturb the little life growing inside you.

Your daughter didn’t seem to appreciate the intrusion. She kicked, hard, right where his head was, and Sylus chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. He pressed a small kiss to your bump, his lips lingering just long enough to send an unexpected shiver through you. Then he tilted his head, looking up at you from where he lay against your lap.

The way he stared was intense, his eyes locking onto yours with a look that made your heart skip a beat. There was something in that gaze, something slow and deliberate. Almost…alluring.

You shifted under the weight of his attention, your breath hitching as you tried to hold his gaze. But it was too much—too heavy. You looked away quickly, pretending to focus on something else, your fingers twitching against your belly.

Sylus didn’t move right away. His presence was still there, looming over you even though he remained physically closer to the floor. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the unease bubbling up inside you. His energy was different tonight. Charged. And it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but it was unsettling.

You weren’t strangers to his sudden affection. Over the past few months, he’d been initiating them more often—quick, fleeting kisses on your lips, always catching you off guard. You had started reciprocating. It felt… easier that way. He was taking care of you, after all. What harm was there in a few kisses? They were small gestures, nothing more.

And he hadn’t asked for anything more. Not yet. Despite the way his gaze lingered on you sometimes, despite the way his touches seemed to stretch a little too long, he hadn’t pressed for intimacy. Not in that way. He clearly wanted to—his body language betrayed him every time he was near you—but he had always pulled back when it became clear you weren’t going to entertain it.

But now…now he felt different. More pushy. More insistent.

“Despite everything,” he said suddenly, his voice low, almost husky, “I still feel so distant from you.”

You forced a laugh, looking away again to avoid the intensity in his eyes. “How?” you said lightly, trying to inject humor into the moment. “Your child is literally growing in here. Don’t think we could get any closer than, you know, mixing DNA.” You gestured vaguely at your stomach, offering a weak smile.

Sylus didn’t laugh. He didn’t even chuckle. He only smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that made your stomach twist—not from the baby’s movement, but from something deeper. Something instinctual.

He sat up slowly, shifting so he was eye level with you now, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. Direct. You felt pinned under it, like prey caught in a predator’s sights. The discomfort you hadn’t felt for weeks crept back in, winding its way up your spine and making your skin prickle.

“I think we both know that’s not what I mean, kitten,” he said, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to a purr. The nickname, the one that had started as something teasing, now carried a weight that made your breath hitch.

His hand moved, settling on your thigh with deliberate slowness. The touch was firm but not heavy, the heat of his palm seeping through the fabric of your leggings and making you acutely aware of the space between your bodies—or lack thereof.

The room suddenly felt too small, too warm, despite the chill in the air. Your heart began to beat faster, the sound of it pounding in your ears as your hands grew clammy. You tried to steady your breathing, but it was hard to focus when his presence loomed so heavily, so insistently.

“Aren’t you tired of pretending?” he murmured, leaning closer. His breath brushed against your ear, warm and tantalizing, sending another shiver skittering down your spine. “I see it in your eyes. The need.”

You stiffened, but his voice didn’t waver. If anything, it grew softer, more intimate, as though he were sharing a secret meant only for you. “The way you shift your legs together when I’m dressing in front of you…the way your eyes wander, even when you think I don’t notice.”

Your breath caught, and your mind raced to refute him, to deny everything he was saying. But the words wouldn’t come. His tone, his presence, his touch—they were all too much, too overwhelming. Your body betrayed you, warmth creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks despite your best efforts to suppress it.

Sylus tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he studied your reaction. He smiled again, but this time it was softer, almost disarming. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to deny it. I’m not blind, kitten.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting away from his as your hands fidgeted in your lap. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts to sound firm. Of course you knew. You weren't sure if it was the hormones or what but the feeling of need...the feeling of desire to be touched and ravished had been more rampant than usual. You honestly thought you had done a better job at hiding it, but Sylus had read you like usual.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, and leaned back just enough to give you a sliver of space. But his hand remained on your thigh, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate circles against the fabric. The sensation sent sparks racing up your leg, and you hated how your body reacted, how you couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched every time his thumb moved.

“You don't know?,” he said, his voice calm but laced with something deeper, something resolute. “Let me show you then, sweetie”

You barely process his words before you feel the heat of his touch spreading through your skin, a slow burn that makes it hard to focus on anything else. His hand moves with a gentle yet deliberate caress, and before you can fully process it, he's leaning in, his lips brushing softly against your neck. The contact sends a shiver down your spine, a reluctant thrill of pleasure that you can't quite shake off.

His other hand finds its way in your pants and between your legs, fingers teasing and exploring, rubbing your clit with a maddening slowness that leaves you teetering on the edge of resistance and surrender. You don't want to like it, don't want to give in to the pleasure that coils so insistently in your belly, but your body has other ideas, responding with a traitorous eagerness that you can't deny.

You should try and stop him like every other time. But you don't. Its like your brain has switched off, replaced by a sudden need for him to keep touching.

As his lips continued their gentle assault on your neck, sending waves of tingling sensations down your body, you found yourself sinking deeper into the embrace of pleasure. The hand on your thigh tightened its grip, a possessive gesture that only added to the intensity of the moment. His breath, warm and tantalizing, whispered against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise in its wake.

"You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper in your ear. "I love how your body betrays your resolve." He knew just how to play with your senses, to make you question your own resistance. His fingers continued their sensual dance, stroking and circling, pushing you closer to the precipice of desire.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the world narrowing to the sensations he evoked. You want to shut him up. You want to scream at him. But no words come. His touch was like a brand, searing your skin with a fiery delight. You tried to hold on to your last shreds of resistance, but it was like trying to grasp smoke; it slipped through your fingers, leaving you helpless against the onslaught of pleasure.

As his kisses trailed down, each one a delicate flame on your skin, you felt your inhibitions melting away. The hand between your legs quickened its pace, and you gasped, unable to stifle the sound of your growing arousal. You were falling, surrendering to the sweet torment he so expertly wielded.

"That's it, let go," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to hear your surrender, sweetie." His words were like a spell, binding you to the moment, to the pleasure, and to the surrender you were about to embrace.

The tension coiled tighter within you, a spring ready to snap, and you knew that when it did, it would be a release like no other. Your body was on fire, craving the climax he was so adept at orchestrating. And in that moment, resistance seemed like a distant memory, as you were ready to succumb to the blissful oblivion he promised.

The pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo, and in a moment of powerful release, you surrendered to the climax, your body arching against his touch. A mix of sensations flooded through you—pleasure, relief, and a tinge of guilt for succumbing so easily. You trembled as the waves of ecstasy washed over, leaving you breathless and weak. "You're beautiful when you come undone," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. His hand lingered on your sensitive skin, stroking gently as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"I....I..." you muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly lightheaded.

The climax washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving your body trembling and your senses heightened. You gasped for breath, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure he had just unleashed within you. As you came down from the peak, a wave of emotions hit you—a mix of satisfaction, vulnerability, and a tinge of shame.

As if sensing your sudden anxiety, Sylus tightened his hold on your waist, his touch gentle yet firm. "Shh, don't run from this," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. You tried to squirm away, suddenly self-conscious, but his strong arms guided you back into place, his hands caressing your hips with a possessive yet tender touch.

"Trust me," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I'll take care of you." With a gentle but unwavering grip, he guided you into position, urging you onto all fours and guiding you to rest your belly against the soft cushions of the couch. Your heart raced as you realized the intimate position you were now in.

"My belly..." you started, your voice laced with concern as you remembered your pregnant form. Was this even safe? What if he was too rough and hurt her? You feel your pulse quicken of the thought of something happening to the baby.

Sylus, ever attuned to your needs, paused, his hand cupping your swollen belly with reverence. "I'll be gentle," he reassured, his thumb tracing slow circles over your skin. "Just breathe."

His words, spoken with such tenderness, only calmed your nerves a little. You feel him pulling your leggings down and lifting your shirt. As he positioned himself behind you, his hardened cock pressed against your entrance, sending a jolt of anticipation through your body. You couldn't see behind you, but from feeling alone you could tell Sylus was harder than you'd ever felt him. You felt his breath on your neck, hot and ragged, as he began to enter you, his movements deliberate and slow.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as he penetrated, the sensation both painful and pleasurable. The stretch and fullness were intensified by your pregnant state, and you couldn't help but wonder if it was the reason for the heightened sensitivity and pleasure.

"Nnngh…" you groan, gripping intensely into one of the pillows. "Slower Sylus, please..."

"Its been awhile, but you'll adjust" he whispered, his voice strained with restraint. "You feel tighter too, no wonder it hurts" His hands moved to your hips, guiding you to meet his slow, careful thrusts. You can't help but feel your face heat up at the sinful words leaving his mouth.

"Shut up..."

The sensations were overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and discomfort that soon gave way to pure bliss. You moaned, your voice echoing in the room as you surrendered to the waves of delight coursing through your core.

"That's it, let me hear you," he encouraged, his own moans becoming more pronounced as he picked up the pace. "Let me show you how good this can be."

His hands roamed over your body, caressing your back, your hips, and occasionally returning to cup your belly, as if to remind you of the life growing within and the unique pleasure you were experiencing. The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure—your moans, his deep grunts, and the soft, rhythmic sounds of skin on skin.

As he thrust into you with increasing fervor, his movements remained mindful of your comfort, ensuring each stroke brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

The penetration was deep and profound, each withdrawal a sweet agony, leaving you wanting more. Your body was alive with sensation, every nerve ending singing with pleasure and pain. You wanted to escape the exquisite torture, to find release, but he held you firmly in place, his grip a gentle captivity.

"Please, Sylus," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need..."

"I know, sweetie," he murmured, his voice a soothing contrast to the raw need coursing between you. "Have some patience."

With each withdrawal and thrust, he worked his full length inside you, his movements now a deliberate torture, designed to push you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your body felt like it was on fire, and sweat began to form on your face.

Your moans became more frequent, more desperate, each sound a plea for release. He was relentless, his pace calculated to drive you wild, his own breath ragged as he held himself back from the brink, all for the pleasure of watching you unravel.

"Sylus, please," you cried, your body arching, seeking more of him. His teasing was almost driving you to madness.

"Soon, my love," he promised, his voice a low growl. "But first, I want to watch you come apart."

His thrusts quickened, still controlled, each one a stroke of pleasure, pushing you higher, closer to the peak. Your body felt like a live wire, every nerve ending sparking with sensation, your core clenching around him, seeking the release he was expertly withholding.

The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure—your breathless moans, his restrained grunts, and the wet, erotic sounds of flesh on flesh.

As he thrust into you with increasing pace, your body became a conduit of pleasure, every cell alive with sensation. You were on the precipice of bliss, teetering between agony and ecstasy. His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place, ensuring his length stroked every sweet spot within you.

"Yes, let go," he urged, his voice a command you couldn't deny. "Cum for me."

His words, spoken with such authority, pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, spreading aching pleasure as you climaxed, your release a sweet surrender to the bliss he had orchestrated. Sylus soon followed, hot ropes of his cum filling you as he groaned your name, his body shuddering against yours in perfect harmony. You feel out of breath as he finally pulls out of you, a sudden empty sensation taking over instead.

The aftermath left you feeling hollow and heavy, like the weight of the world had pressed down on you all at once. You remained there, your legs trembling slightly, and felt his fluids slowly begin to slip out of you, a sensation that made your stomach tighten. Your hand instinctively drifted to your belly, and as if on cue, your daughter kicked hard, a protest against all the extra movement. You sighed softly, a wave of guilt washing over you.

I’m sorry, you thought, offering her a silent apology as you rubbed your bump in slow, soothing circles. May have gotten carried away.

The sensation of a cool, damp cloth against your legs startled you out of your thoughts. You looked over to see Sylus crouched in front of you, his focus sharp and deliberate as he carefully cleaned you up. He was gentle, moving with a precision that felt practiced, as if he had thought about this moment long before it had happened.

He didn’t speak, and neither did you. There was no need to. The silence was thick, heavy with unspoken emotions, and you couldn’t bring yourself to break it. The cold cloth passed over you again, wiping away the remnants of what had just occurred, and you shivered involuntarily at the sensation. Your body still felt too warm, too sensitive, and the contrast of the cool rag made your breath hitch.

"I'll get you new clothes" he suddenly said, momentarily pausing his movements. You barely hear him, but make a noise of acknowledgment.

When he finished, he disappeared momentarily only to return with pajamas for you, his movements slow and purposeful as he helped you redress. The fabric felt strange against your skin, almost foreign, as if it didn’t belong to you anymore. Nothing did—not your mind, not your body. It was all borrowed, handed over piece by piece to him, to the baby, to this life that no longer felt like yours.

Once you were dressed, Sylus stood and gently pulled you to your feet, his hands steadying you as your legs wobbled beneath you. He adjusted the pillows. Without a word, he guided you back to the couch and eased you down onto the cushions in a new position before settling behind you. His arms encircled you loosely, his warmth pressing into your back as he rested his chin lightly against your shoulder.

His hand found your belly almost immediately, his fingers stroking the curve of it in slow, rhythmic motions. The touch was soft, almost absentminded, but it was constant. Ever-present. You could feel the satisfaction radiating off him, a quiet, smug contentment that made your chest tighten. He had wanted this for a long time—there was no doubt about that. The way he gently held you now, the way his touch lingered on your belly, spoke volumes.

And yet, you couldn’t help but feel slightly taken advantage of. The thought crept into your mind unbidden, a whisper that grew louder the longer you sat there in his arms. If it weren’t for the pregnancy—if it weren’t for the weight of your swollen belly and overbearing feelings that came with it—would you have even let him get this close? Would you have let him touch you the way he had?

You weren’t sure. And that uncertainty gnawed at you.

This was different from all the other times. He hadn't had to force you. Somehow someway he knew your own thoughts, even if you didn't speak them aloud.

Your body didn’t feel like yours anymore. Your mind didn’t either. Every decision, every thought, every movement was dictated by something outside of yourself—by Sylus, by the baby, by the strange, tangled web of your current reality. It was like you were living on autopilot, your choices whittled down to the path of least resistance.

As Sylus continued to stroke your belly, his touch steady and unrelenting, you felt yourself slipping further into your thoughts. His hand was warm, soothing in a way that made you want to hate it but couldn’t. It reminded you of how far you had come—not in strength or independence, but in compliance.

How much had you given up? How much of yourself had you handed over, piece by piece, without even realizing it? The chain had come off weeks ago, but sometimes, you swore you could still feel its weight. Not on your ankle, but somewhere deeper. Somewhere inside.

The silence stretched between you both, but neither of you spoke still. Words wouldn’t have changed anything. They wouldn’t have undone the strange intimacy of the moment, wouldn’t have erased the lingering feelings of guilt and resentment that churned in your chest.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement only drew you closer to him. Sylus didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his hold on you tightened just a fraction, his touch growing softer, more deliberate, as if he could sense the thoughts swirling in your mind.

You wondered how far you’d fallen. How compliant you’d truly become. It scared you, the thought of how easy it had become to let him take the lead, to let him dictate the terms of your life. Somewhere along the way, the fight had drained out of you, leaving only this—this quiet surrender, this hollow acceptance of the way things were.

And as much as you hated it, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away either.

Xavier’s body ached, the deep, bone-deep kind of pain that refused to go away no matter how much rest he got. He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, his fingers curling tightly around the edge as a sharp pang coursed through his torso. His chest rose and fell in labored breaths as he waited for it to pass. It wasn’t as bad as it had been the first few weeks after he was released from the hospital, but it was enough to remind him that his body wasn’t entirely his own anymore.

The new treatment, as Dr. Grey had called it, had definitely saved him some time. That much was true. But at what cost? He had nearly killed Grey the moment he learned the truth—his veins now carried the DNA of a Polar Wyrm, a wanderer that was known for its love of colder areas. He should have asked more questions, he knew that. But at the time, he hadn’t cared about the consequences. All that had mattered was staying alive, getting back on his feet. Back to you.

But staying alive didn’t feel like much of a victory when his body felt like this. Xavier had thought he would be stronger, faster, ready to take on Sylus and rescue you. Instead, he found himself struggling with the simplest of tasks, the phantom pain from his transformation a constant reminder that he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to fight Sylus. He wasn’t ready to protect you. And he hated himself for it.

Dr. Grey had specifically told him that it would take a bit to "adjust" to his new body and that the pain in his bones would stop. The pain seemed never ending though.

He exhaled slowly, wiping a hand over his face as he straightened up. His eyes drifted to the corner of the living room where the boxes sat. Your boxes. He had finally gotten hold of them a few weeks ago after the landlord cleared out your apartment. The sight of them, stacked and untouched, made his chest tighten every time he looked at them. It was like having a piece of you here, a small reminder of the life you’d left behind.

He moved toward them now, his fingers brushing over the lid of the nearest box before he pulled it open. He wasn’t proud of himself for this—rifling through your things like some desperate, lovesick fool—but he couldn’t help it. It was the closest he could get to you right now. Inside, he found books, random trinkets, and clothes. Some were clean, neatly folded as though you’d packed them with care. Others…weren’t.

His face heated as he pulled out one of your shirts, the fabric soft but faintly wrinkled. It wasn’t clean. The scent of you still lingered faintly on it, a mix of your shampoo and something uniquely you. It was embarrassing, the way he held it to his face for just a moment, inhaling deeply as if he could somehow hold onto your essence. It made him feel pathetic. But it also made him feel closer to you.

His fists clenched around the fabric, his jaw tightening as he thought about you. About the life you were living now, trapped under Sylus’s control. You deserved better. You deserved freedom. And he…he wasn’t ready to give it to you. Not yet. He hoped he wasn't running out of time

Not until I can make this pain stop, he thought bitterly, tossing the shirt back into the box and shutting it firmly. Dr. Grey had assured him that he wouldn’t turn into a Polar Wyrm—that he had simply harvested its power, not its form—but that did little to comfort him. His body was stronger, yes, but it felt foreign. The pain and unpredictability of it left him feeling more like a stranger in his own skin than the man he once was. He’d deal with Grey later. Right now, his focus was on you.

Xavier rubbed his temple, trying to push the frustration away as he made his way toward the door. He needed air. He needed to clear his head. The suffocating weight of his thoughts was too much to bear indoors.

The morning air was crisp, cool against his skin as he stepped outside. He didn’t go far, just to the steps of the building. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let him breathe. His thoughts were consumed by plans to rescue you, even though he didn’t have all the pieces yet. How could he, when his own body betrayed him?

He was about to head back inside when something caught his attention. A single door down, near your old apartment, there were boxes sitting outside. Open boxes. His heart clenched painfully as he stared at them. Was someone moving into your place already? His mind raced with memories of you in that apartment, your laugh, your smile, the way you had asked him how the locks worked the day you moved in. You had been shy, your voice soft as you spoke to him, but your eyes had held a spark of curiosity that had drawn him in. That spark was what he missed most.

It had been early evening, the warm glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the hallway. He was heading out to grab dinner when he saw you standing outside your door, a box perched precariously in your arms. You looked so unsure of yourself, your brows furrowed in concentration as you shifted the weight of the box from one hip to the other.

“Uh, excuse me,” you called out, your voice soft, almost hesitant. He turned toward you, pausing mid-step. “Do you know how the locks on these doors work?”

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. There was something endearing about the way you asked, as if you were afraid he might ignore you or brush you off. He walked over, gesturing for you to hand him the box. “Here,” he said easily, taking it from your hands and setting it down beside the door. “What’s the problem? Fingerprint not working?”

You hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you fumbled with the key in your hand. “Fingerprints...?,” you asked. “ Then what's this key they gave me? I just moved in, and I think I’m doing it wrong or something. There's no keyhole...”

He raised an eyebrow, crouching slightly to inspect the lock. “Well, first off, these locks aren't unlocked by keys . They should've had you register your fingerprint at the front desk, yeah? Like this.” He gently grabbed your hand and pushed your finger against the pad, and the door clicked open after a few seconds.

Your eyes lit up, relief washing over your face as you offered him a grateful smile. “Oh, thank you! I was wondering why they wanted my fingerprint. The landlord didn't explain much, he seemed to be in a rush. I thought I was going to have to call him and look like a complete idiot.”

He chuckled, standing up and leaning casually against the doorframe. “Oh, you’re good. That physical key is probably for your mailbox. They haven't updated those yet. You’re new here?”

You nodded, fidgeting with your hands as you shifted awkwardly under his gaze. “Yeah, just moved in today. Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s no bother,” he said, waving you off. “Welcome to the building. Your a new hunter right?”

You blinked, surprised. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he replied with a small smirk. “But most people that move here are hunters surprisingly.”

You laughed softly, a sound that stuck with him even now. “I guess so. It’s…nice. Its a lot different from my last place.”

“Change is good,” he said lightly. “New experiences and whatnot.”

You smiled again, this time a little more freely, and he felt something stir in his chest. He didn’t know what it was then, but it was enough to make him linger a little longer than he should have.

“Well, thanks again,” you said, your voice softer now as you glanced down at the floor. “I appreciate the help.”

“No problem,” he said, stepping back into the hallway. “If you need anything, I’m in 3A. Right next to you.”

Your eyes darted up to meet his, a flicker of surprise and something else passing through them. “Oh your so close! Okay. Thanks.”

He gave you one last nod before heading out, but the memory of your shy smile stayed with him long after he walked away.

Xavier opened his eyes, the flashback fading as his gaze returned to the boxes outside your old apartment. That shy, uncertain version of you felt so far away now. He couldn’t even imagine what you must be like after everything Sylus had put you through.

His jaw tightened, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. He had to get you back. Not just to free you from Sylus, but to bring back the person you were. The person who had asked him about the locks, who had laughed and smiled softly when he teased you. That person was still in there, somewhere. He had to believe that.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see a red-haired woman climbing the stairs. She was talking loudly on her phone, her voice grating against his already frayed nerves. She was carrying a small bag, her free hand gesturing animatedly as she laughed at something the person on the other end said.

When she spotted him, she stopped abruptly. Her laughter faded, and she quickly ended the call, slipping her phone into her pocket as she flashed him a bright, practiced smile.

“Well, hello there,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet as her eyes roamed over him. “Didn’t realize this place had such…interesting company.”

Xavier’s expression didn’t change, his jaw tightening as he stared at her. He didn’t want this conversation. He didn’t want anything from her.

“You got a name, handsome?” she asked, tilting her head as she took a step closer.

“Xavier,” he said flatly, his voice curt. He regretted giving her his name the moment it left his mouth.

“Xavier,” she repeated, as if savoring the sound. “Well, Xavier, if you’re ever looking for company…” She paused, her lips curving into a smirk. “You know where to find me.”

She winked before slipping into the apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar. He stared after her for a moment, a heavy sigh escaping him as he shook his head. She was nothing like you. Her flirtation felt hollow, forced, and it only served to make him miss you more.

He lingered in the hallway for a moment longer, his thoughts drifting back to the day you moved in. He could still see the way you looked up at him, your nervous smile and wide eyes. The way you had laughed, soft and genuine, like you couldn’t help yourself. It pained him that your apartment would be tainted by someone else's presence. That memory was all he had left, and he clung to it with everything he had.

One day, he promised himself. One day, he’d bring you back. And he’d do whatever it took to make that happen.

The world was moving on without you. But he wouldn't.

The pain was unbearable today. It came in sharp, stabbing bursts, radiating from deep within his chest and spreading outward like wildfire. Xavier sat on the edge of his bed, gripping the edge of the mattress so hard his knuckles turned white. Sweat dripped down his brow, his jaw clenched tightly to keep from crying out. The only sound in the room was his ragged breathing, each inhale and exhale a fight against the searing heat that pulsed through his veins.

It felt like his body was rebelling against him, and in a way, it was. The Polar Wyrm DNA wasn’t something meant to mix with human DNA obviously. Even now, months after the treatment, his cells still felt like they were at war. Every new surge of strength came with an equally crushing wave of pain, a reminder that his transformation was far from complete.

He reached for his phone on the nightstand, his trembling fingers barely managing to swipe it open before dialing Dr. Grey. The screen reflected his strained expression, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to how little sleep he’d been getting.

The call connected, and Grey’s calm, collected voice came through the speaker. “Xavier. I assume this isn’t a social call.”

“No,” Xavier bit out, his voice tight. “I’m about ready to rip my own skin off, Grey. This pain is unbearable. What the hell did you do to me?”

There was a pause on the other end, the kind that made Xavier’s temper flare. Finally, Grey sighed, as if the question were an inconvenience. “I told you the process would be…difficult. Your body is adapting to something it was never meant to handle. The Polar Wyrm DNA is powerful, yes, but it’s also volatile. I warned you about this.”

“You didn’t warn me enough...” Xavier snapped, his voice rising. He forced himself to take a deep breath, his free hand pressing against his chest as he tried to will the pain away. “You said this would make me stronger, that it would save me. You didn’t say I’d be stuck like this—half-dead and useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Grey replied, his tone maddeningly even. “Far from it. In fact, I suspect your body is on the verge of a breakthrough. The Polar Wyrm DNA wasn’t meant to stand alone—it’s integrating with your existing Evol. Tell me, have you noticed any changes in your abilities?”

Xavier hesitated, his brow furrowing. “What kind of changes?”

“Your Evol,” Grey said, his voice almost eager now. “It should be manifesting differently. Stronger. Purified. You’re no longer just a light wielder, Xavier. You’re becoming something more.”

“I don’t want to be ‘something more,’” Xavier growled. “I want to be me. I'm running out of time”

“You will,” Grey said simply. “But first, you need to understand what you’re capable of. Push yourself, Xavier. Test the limits of your new body. You might be surprised by what you find.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Xavier gripping the phone in frustration. He wanted to throw it across the room, to hear it shatter into pieces, but he didn’t. Instead, he shoved it into his pocket and grabbed his jacket. If Grey wanted him to push himself, fine. He’d push.

The forest was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Xavier stood in the clearing, his hands clenched at his sides as he surveyed the trees around him. He could feel the power thrumming beneath his skin, a faint hum of energy that hadn’t been there before. His Evol used to be simple—a steady, golden glow that he could call upon at will. But now, it felt different. Sharper. Colder.

He exhaled slowly, letting his hand rise as he focused on summoning the energy. At first, it was familiar—the faint flicker of light forming in his palm. But as he concentrated, the color shifted. The warm gold faded into a brilliant, icy blue, and the light crackled with a crystalline texture that sent chills up his arm.

“What the hell…” he murmured, staring at the transformation.

The energy didn’t feel like his own. It was foreign, raw, and powerful in a way that made him uneasy. It begged to be released, pulsing and growing in intensity until he could barely hold it back. Gritting his teeth, he turned toward a nearby tree and hurled the energy forward.

The impact was devastating. The light struck the trunk with a deafening crack, and in an instant, the tree split in half, shards of wood scattering in all directions. Xavier staggered back, his eyes wide as he watched the crystalline residue from the blast spread like frost across the shattered bark.

He barely had time to process what had happened before a sharp pain shot through his arm. He looked down and froze. Small, translucent crystals were emerging from his skin, shimmering with the same blue light as his Evol. They jutted out like jagged shards of ice, and for a moment, panic gripped him.

“What is this...” he whispered, trying to shake them off, but they didn’t budge.

The pain intensified, radiating through his arm and into his chest. He fell to his knees, clutching his side as he struggled to breathe. His body felt like it was breaking apart, the power within him threatening to consume him entirely. But as the pain reached its peak, it suddenly stopped.

Xavier looked up, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The crystals had receded, melting back into his skin as if they’d never been there. His hands trembled as he stared at them, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t answer.

This wasn’t just his Evol anymore. It was something else. Something new.

Xavier leaned back against a nearby tree, his legs too shaky to support him. He closed his eyes, the events of the last few minutes replaying in his mind. Grey had been right—his body was changing, evolving into something he didn’t fully understand. The power was incredible, yes, but it came at a cost. He could still feel the residue of pain lingering beneath the surface, a reminder that his transformation wasn’t complete.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how this power might be the key to saving you. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening as he stared at the broken tree in front of him.

“I don’t care what it takes,” he muttered, his voice low but steady. “I’ll figure this out. I’ll get stronger. And I’ll save you.”

The icy blue light flickered faintly around his hand as he spoke, a promise made to himself and to you. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And so, Xavier had begun training his body, determined to push past the limits of the pain that still gripped him. Every day was a battle—against his own weakness, against the lingering effects of the Polar Wyrm DNA, against the gnawing guilt that he wasn’t moving fast enough to save you. But he fought anyway. His mornings were spent stretching and testing his endurance, forcing his muscles to adapt to the power coursing through his veins. The afternoons were for testing his abilities, honing the blue energy that had taken over his Evol.

He found himself venturing farther from home with each passing day, seeking the quiet isolation of the wilderness where he could unleash his new powers without fear of prying eyes. The first time he used them against something alive, it had been a wanderer—a lanky, glowing wolf-like creature prowling the edges of the forest. The beast had lunged at him, its teeth bared, but Xavier had met it head-on.

The icy blue energy exploded from his hands, crackling through the air before freezing the creature mid-leap. Crystals formed along its body, spreading rapidly until it shattered into a thousand glittering shards. Xavier had stood there, breathing heavily, staring at the destruction he’d wrought. It was…exhilarating. But it also felt strange, alien.

Every encounter after that had been the same. He tested his powers on other wanderers, creatures that roamed too close to civilization. Each time, his control over the energy grew stronger. He learned to summon it faster, to shape it, to pull it back before it overwhelmed him. But the pain never left. It lingered, like a shadow over every victory.

In the evenings, when exhaustion overtook him, he would sit on his couch and stare at the boxes of your belongings. Sometimes he would sift through them, searching for something that would spark a new memory of you. Other times, he’d simply sit there, his hands gripping his knees, the silence broken only by his ragged breaths.

Captain Jenna had been calling regularly, her voice crisp and no-nonsense on the other end of the line. “Xavier, I need an update,” she’d say, her tone brooking no argument. “When can we expect you back on duty?”

He’d stall, his answers carefully crafted lies wrapped in enough truth to be believable. “Still working on my recovery,” he’d tell her, his voice strained just enough to sell it. “The pain’s manageable, but I’m not at full strength yet.”

It wasn’t entirely false. The pain was still there, and he wasn’t ready to return to work. But that wasn’t the whole reason he was avoiding her. The truth was, he couldn’t afford to split his focus. His new body, his abilities, and his plans to save you—they demanded his full attention. Work could wait. You couldn’t.

Jenna wasn’t easily fooled. He could hear the skepticism in her voice every time she called, the way her words lingered just a little too long. “I assume your following all medical directions and resting, Xavier?” she asked once, her tone sharp.

“Of course,” he’d replied quickly, his jaw tightening. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

That seemed to placate her—for now. But he knew it wouldn’t last. Eventually, she’d come looking for him, demanding answers he wasn’t ready to give.

His savings were dwindling, a fact that gnawed at the back of his mind like an ever-present worry. He couldn’t avoid work forever. The money he had left was barely enough to cover his basic needs, let alone the resources he would need to take care of you when you were back. But he shoved those thoughts aside, focusing instead on his training. Every time he felt doubt creep in, he thought of you—of your smile, your laugh, the way you used to look at him with trust in your eyes. That memory kept him going.

One night, after an especially grueling session in the woods, Xavier sat on the floor of his apartment, his back against the couch as he stared at his hands. They were still trembling, the blue light faintly flickering at his fingertips. The power was growing, becoming something he could feel in every cell of his body. But with that power came responsibility—responsibility to wield it carefully, to not let it consume him.

His gaze drifted to the boxes of your belongings, and his chest tightened. He couldn’t afford to fail. Not when so much was at stake. Not when you were still out there, waiting for someone to save you. He thought about the day you moved in again, the shy way you’d asked him about the locks, the small laugh you’d shared when he joked about the apartment.

The crystals flickered along his hands again, a reminder of what he was becoming. He clenched his fists, determination hardening in his chest. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Xavier stood in the middle of the forest at dawn, his body covered in a faint sheen of sweat, his muscles aching but his resolve unshaken. He takes one last deep breath, summoning the blue light in his hands, and releases it with a force that splits another tree in half. The icy shards glitter in the early morning sun, a symbol of the strength he’s gaining.

Xavier looks at his hands, then toward the horizon, where he imagines you waiting. His jaw tightens, and he mutters under his breath, “I’m almost ready.”

With that, he turns back toward the path home, the faint sound of breaking branches and scattered ice lingering in the air behind him.

Was it possible to be tired of being tired?

Every part of you ached—your back, your feet, your shoulders—and your belly, now enormous at 29 weeks, made everything harder. Sitting, standing, walking—it all felt like a monumental effort. Even breathing sometimes felt like too much.

You couldn’t help but think that Sylus had known exactly what he was doing when he got you pregnant.

It was a cruel, insidious kind of strategy, really. The further along you got, the more your body betrayed you. The more energy it siphoned away, the less fight you had to offer. Anger took energy, resistance took energy, even sharp words took energy—and you had none of it to spare anymore.

Not when your legs felt like they were weighted down with bricks. Not when your back screamed in protest every time you tried to stand for more than a few minutes. Not when your daughter’s relentless kicks and movements left you exhausted even as they filled you with a strange, bittersweet pride.

You had stopped fighting him long ago. The sharp words that once came so easily to your lips now stayed locked behind your teeth. The glares and icy silences were fewer, replaced by a hollow, bone-deep exhaustion that dulled every edge you once had. You hated it. You hated how compliant you felt on some level. But what choice did you have?

Sylus, of course, noticed the change. He always noticed. And while he didn’t comment on it directly, you could see it in the way his touches lingered a little longer, the way his hands found your belly more often now. He wasn’t as careful about hiding his intentions anymore, not when you barely had the strength to push him away.

His advances had become bolder, his touches more insistent. A hand on your hip as he guided you to sit down. A kiss pressed to your neck when he helped you get dressed. And you…you didn’t stop him. You didn’t encourage him, either, but you didn’t stop him. Because that, too, would take energy you simply didn’t have.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor as your hands rested on your belly. The fabric of your shirt stretched tightly across your bump, the fabric pulling uncomfortably as your daughter shifted inside you. She was active tonight, her movements sharp and frequent, as if she was protesting the same exhaustion you felt.

“Alright, alright,” you murmured softly, rubbing slow circles over your belly. “I get it, you’re not happy. Join the club, kiddo.”

Your words were quiet, spoken more to yourself than to her, but they still made you feel marginally better. At least she was growing, thriving, even if it felt like she was slowly taking every ounce of strength you had left.

Sylus entered the room a moment later, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You didn’t have to look up to know it was him. You could feel his presence, heavy and ever-watchful, as he came to stand beside you.

“Here,” he said, holding out a glass of water. His crimson eyes scanned you with a mix of concern and something deeper—something you didn’t want to name.

A moment of deja vu hits you like a brick. When you had first arrived, frantic, desperate for a way out. He had poisoned your water with god knows what. Handed it to you exactly the way he was doing now.

You don't even recognize that version of yourself anymore.

You took the glass without a word, your fingers brushing against his as you did. His hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back, leaning casually against the dresser as he watched you drink.

“You can rest more, honey,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You don't need to be up every single day.”

A sharp retort hovered on the edge of your tongue, but you swallowed it down, too tired to argue. Instead, you set the glass down on the nightstand and leaned back against the headboard, your hands still cradling your belly.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though you didn’t sound convincing even to yourself. "I'm pregnant, not made of glass."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand finding your belly like it always did. The touch was warm, steady, and uninvited—but you didn’t have the energy to push it away.

“She’s very strong,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the curve of your bump. “She takes after you in that regard.”

You scoffed, your lips twisting into a bitter smile. “Don’t flatter me. I feel like a beached whale, not some warrior goddess.”

Sylus chuckled, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles. “You’re just tired,” he said simply. “That doesn’t make you any less strong.”

You didn’t respond, but his words lingered in the air between you. You didn’t feel strong. You felt trapped, worn down by the weight of your circumstances and the life growing inside you. But you couldn’t deny that his touch, his presence, made it harder to hold onto the anger you’d once felt so fiercely.

Maybe that was the most dangerous thing of all. How easy it was to let yourself lean into his care, to let yourself forget—if only for a moment—how you’d ended up here in the first place.

As Sylus continued to stroke your belly, his touch steady and unwavering, you closed your eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. For now, you were too tired to think about what you’d lost. Too tired to plan your next move. All you could do was survive, one exhausting day at a time.

Sylus helped you ease back down onto the bed, his hands firm but careful as he guided you. He didn’t let you move too quickly, didn’t let you settle until he was sure you were comfortable. His touch, while gentle, was unrelenting. You couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been hovering nearby, ensuring you didn’t strain yourself or move in a way that might upset the fragile balance of your body at this stage.

Once you were lying back against the pillows, he joined you, sliding onto the bed with an ease that contrasted your slow, lumbering movements. He curled up beside you, his arm wrapping around your swollen belly, and for a moment, there was peace. The warmth of his body against yours, the slow rhythm of his breathing—it was almost soothing, even though you didn’t want to admit it.

But then his lips found your skin.

It started with small kisses, pressed lightly against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your jaw. They were soft, almost hesitant, as if testing your reaction. You tensed slightly at first, but the exhaustion coursing through your body made it hard to resist. His lips moved to the curve of your neck, lingering there, and you shivered as his breath brushed against your skin.

“Sylus,” you muttered, your voice low and weak. You didn’t know if it was meant to be a warning or just an acknowledgment of what you both knew was coming.

The kisses deepened, his lips pressing harder against your neck, his hand sliding over your belly in slow, deliberate strokes. You felt your body reacting before your mind could catch up—the way your pulse quickened, the way your skin seemed to come alive under his touch. It infuriated you, this instinctive response to him, this betrayal of your own conflicted feelings.

He moved with purpose now, his kisses trailing lower, across your collarbone, down the exposed skin of your chest. You didn’t stop him. You never stopped him. What was the point? He always seemed to get what he wanted, and you were too tired—too heavy, too drained—to put up much of a fight.

And besides, a dark, shameful part of you didn’t want to fight him. As much as you hated to admit it, deep down, your body craved his touch now. It was as if your body had betrayed you completely, giving in to him even when your mind screamed not to.

Sylus’s lips found yours, and the kiss was different now—deeper, hungrier. His hand cupped your face, tilting your head slightly to give him better access as he claimed your mouth. You let him, your lips moving against his with a practiced ease that you hated yourself for. His hunger for you seemed boundless, and as much as you wanted to deny it, some part of you responded to that hunger.

Still, you found the strength to place a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back. “Not today,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “I’m tired.”

Sylus paused, his crimson eyes searching yours for a moment. Then, a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. He leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “Then let me do all the work.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his hand slid lower, resting just above the swell of your belly, and his words made your breath hitch.

“I just want to taste you,” he said softly, his voice low and sinful. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he continued, “You’re my favorite flavor, kitten.”

Heat rose to your face, your cheeks burning at the sheer audacity of his words. You hated how easily he could fluster you, how his voice alone could send a wave of heat rushing through your body. His words were deliberate, designed to break down any resistance you might have had, and you hated how well they worked.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to remain calm, to push past the fog of desire clouding your mind. “Sylus…” you started, your voice trailing off as his hand moved lower, his lips finding your neck again.

There was no denying what he wanted. No denying the way his body pressed against yours, his movements slow but insistent. And as much as you wanted to push him away, to reclaim some semblance of control, you knew you wouldn’t. Because even now, even with every fiber of your being screaming at you to stop him, a part of you craved this. Craved him.

Pregnancy had taken its toll on you in every way possible. Your body was getting harder to control—with your daughter growing inside you, with Sylus constantly hovering, touching, claiming. And as much as you hated it, you couldn’t stop it. Because deep down, you weren’t sure you even wanted to.

With a gentle yet commanding touch, he parted your thighs, exposing your most intimate core, already glistening with anticipation.

"Just relax," he whispered, his voice a soothing contrast to the raw hunger in his eyes. You watch as he removes your underwear swiftly, as if its an obstacle standing in the way of his prize.

His hands, skilled and reverent, caressed your inner thighs, his touch light and teasing, sending sparks of sensation through your body. You shivered, your breath coming in short gasps as he leaned forward, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he lowered his head, his tongue tracing a path from your inner thigh to the heart of your desire. His first touch was a gentle stroke, his tongue gliding along your folds, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

"Hgnnn..." you breathed, your body arching into his touch, unable to deny the pleasure he so effortlessly evoked.

His tongue, long and talented, began to work its magic, circling your clitoris with exquisite precision, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your core. He was relentless, his technique honed to perfection, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy in an instant. "Stop...it's too much..." you panted, your voice laced with a mixture of pleasure and disbelief.

Sylus's response was to increase the pressure, his tongue firm yet gentle, sending you spiraling into a vortex of sensation. Your body trembled, your juices flowing freely, a testament to the pleasure he was delivering. He lapped at your essence, his moans of appreciation mingling with your cries of delight.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice strained.

His fingers joined the dance, teasing and probing, as his tongue continued its rhythmic assault on your clitoris. Your body was a live wire, every touch, every lick, pushing you closer to the precipice of pleasure. You clenched, your muscles tightening around his fingers, as he found that sweet spot within you.

"Oh, god..." you cried out, your body arching off the bed , your hands gripping the blanket as you surrendered to the climax he had orchestrated.

Sylus continued his attentive ministrations, riding the waves of your orgasm, his tongue and fingers working in harmony to prolong your pleasure. As the tremors subsided, he slowly withdrew, his lips and fingers leaving you feeling sated and boneless.

Your mind felt foggy, sluggish, as though it was shutting down one piece at a time. Thoughts that would normally race through your head in an endless loop were distant now, fading into a dull hum that you couldn’t focus on if you tried. You barely registered the gentle weight of Sylus’s hands on your skin as he cleaned and redressed you, his touch careful and practiced. It was a routine he’d done many times before, but tonight, you didn’t even have the strength to feel self-conscious about it.

As the haze of exhaustion began to settle over you, a thought surfaced unbidden, cutting through the fog like a sharp blade. It was random, yet it felt heavy, carrying more weight than you expected. Your voice, soft and strained, broke the silence.

“Sylus…” you murmured, your eyes barely open as you stared at the ceiling. “Are we really going to raise a baby that will never see the sun?”

Your question hung in the air, unanswered for a moment. You felt Sylus pause, his hand stilling on your arm as he processed your words. The quiet stretched, and for a brief second, you thought he might ignore you. But then he shifted, his crimson eyes meeting yours, thoughtful and searching.

Before he could respond, the words tumbled out of your mouth again, unfiltered and raw. “I was thinking…I’d really like to raise her somewhere other than the N109 Zone. I’ve seen what’s out there. It’s no place to raise a baby.”

You weren’t even sure why you were bringing it up now, of all times. Maybe it was the exhaustion loosening your tongue, or maybe it was the way your daughter had been moving all day, a reminder of her presence and the life she would inherit. Whatever it was, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it, even though you knew it was foolish. Pointless.

Sylus tilted his head slightly, watching you with an unreadable expression. His lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes remained thoughtful. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice low and even.

You nodded weakly, your hand drifting to your belly as if to shield your daughter from the life she hadn’t even entered yet. The idea of her growing up in the same walls that had confined you for almost a year now made your chest ache. She deserved better than this. Better than you.

Better than him.

Sylus didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head with a tenderness that felt almost mocking given the weight of your words. “Sleep,” he murmured, his voice soft and firm at the same time. “We can talk about it another time.”

Of course, he avoided the conversation. He always did when it was something that mattered. And you were too tired to push him, too drained to argue. But the ache in your chest didn’t go away. Your daughter would grow up in this place, just as trapped as you were. She would never see the sun, never feel real fresh air on her face. Her whole world would be the walls of this house, the reach of her father’s control.

Your heart broke for her, the pain sharp and piercing. You wanted to cry, to let the tears come and release the weight pressing down on you, but nothing happened. No tears came. Just an overwhelming heaviness, settling over you like a blanket you couldn’t throw off.

An innocent life. Trapped with you.

The thought stayed with you as you closed your eyes, your body finally surrendering to the exhaustion. Your breathing slowed, evening out as sleep claimed you, pulling you under into the dark where, for a little while, you could escape the ache in your chest and the questions that had no answers.

For once, you were grateful. Grateful that your body had betrayed you again, leaving you too tired to stir in your thoughts for long. Too tired to dwell on the tangled mess of feelings and resentments that usually plagued you. For a few blessed hours, there would be no fear, no anger, no guilt. Just silence.

A new day arose and you sat in one of the plush chairs in the library, your hands resting lightly on the swell of your belly. Across from you, Luke and Kieran were in a heated debate, their voices rising and falling as they gestured wildly at each other.

“I’m telling you, The Light Swordsman is leagues better than that drivel you suggested,” Luke argued, his tone dripping with mock disdain.

“Drivel?” Kieran scoffed, clutching a book to his chest as though it were sacred. “You’ve clearly never appreciated the depth of The Dragon's Tome. It’s a masterpiece. She liked it, didn’t you?” He turned to you, his expression hopeful.

You smiled softly, watching them bicker. “I liked them both,” you said diplomatically, earning groans from both of them.

“Oh, come on, that’s not an answer,” Luke teased, crossing his arms. “You’ve got to have a favorite.”

Before you could respond, Kieran cut in. “Clearly, it’s The Dragon's Tome. It’s got everything—romance, adventure, incredible world-building—”

Luke shrugged his shoulders dramatically. “Oh, please. It’s just overcomplicated nonsense masquerading as literature. The Light Swordsman has action, wit, and characters with actual personalities.”

You chuckled quietly at their antics, the sound almost surprising to your own ears. Moments like these felt rare, where the weight of your reality didn’t seem quite as suffocating. Sylus had left hours ago, saying he had “personal matters” to attend to, and for once, he hadn’t taken Luke, Kieran, or even Mephisto with him. The twins had stayed behind, their presence filling the large, empty house in a way that was oddly comforting.

The old you would have reveled in the chance to be alone, to bask in the quiet and the freedom of being unobserved. But now, being alone felt strange. Uneasy. Your whole life had become these people, this house, this new reality. And when they weren’t around, the silence was deafening. It struck you just how alone you truly were, how small your world had become.

Sometimes, in those moments of solitude, you found yourself talking to your daughter without even realizing it. Asking her how her day was, if she enjoyed breakfast as much as you did. She’d respond sometimes with a nudge or a kick, as though answering in her own way. It always made you smile, a fleeting comfort in the midst of everything else.

Your gaze drifted to Luke, and a thought tugged at the back of your mind. Over time, you’d noticed something about the twins. They weren’t avoiding you, but they seemed careful—deliberately keeping a certain distance from you, never standing too close. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Sylus. No doubt he’d warned them, made it clear that any perceived closeness with you could have consequences. The idea made your stomach twist. You briefly considered trying to make Sylus jealous, just to see how far you could push him, but you dismissed it just as quickly. He wouldn’t punish you—he’d punish them.

The sound of the library door opening broke through your thoughts. All three of you turned toward it as Sylus stepped inside, his presence immediately commanding attention. Luke and Kieran straightened instinctively, their argument forgotten.

“Out,” Sylus said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. The twins exchanged quick glances before nodding and leaving the room without a word.

Sylus crossed the room with measured steps, sitting down in the armchair adjacent to yours. He dropped a stack of glossy magazines onto the table between you, the covers catching the light. Confused, you tilted your head.

“What are these?” you asked, picking up the top magazine. The pages were filled with images of lavish penthouses—floor-to-ceiling windows, sprawling balconies, gleaming kitchens, and modern interiors that looked like they belonged in a dream rather than reality.

“Penthouses,” Sylus said casually. “Take a look.”

You flipped through the magazine, each page more opulent than the last. One property featured a rooftop garden with panoramic city views, another had a private pool overlooking a tranquil forest. The kitchens were decked out with state-of-the-art appliances, the bedrooms were expansive with plush furniture, and the bathrooms looked like they belonged in luxury spas.

“These are…” you trailed off, your eyes widening at the listed prices. They were astronomical—far beyond anything you’d ever imagined. “Why are you showing me this?”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, his expression calm. “Pick one,” he said simply. “I’ve already bought all of them, so you don’t necessarily have to rush. If you don’t like any of those, I’ll find more for you.”

You stared at him, your mind struggling to process his words. “You’ve…already bought them? All of them?”

He nodded, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “For you.”

The weight of what he was saying hit you like a tidal wave. These weren’t just expensive—they were beyond anything you could fathom. And he had purchased them for you. “I don’t—” you began, but he cut you off.

“You said you don’t want to raise her in the N109 Zone,” he explained, his voice measured. “These are located in various areas surrounding it. Not terribly far, but close enough. Once she’s born, I’ll move you both to whichever one you choose. I’ve already ensured the best schools are nearby each of them.”

You didn’t know what to say. You stared at him, then at the magazines, your heart pounding in your chest. This wasn’t freedom. This wasn’t some act of generosity. This was a larger prison, a gilded cage with more space to move but no less control.

The words tasted bitter as they formed in your mind. A larger prison for me and my daughter.

Your hands trembled slightly as you set the magazine down. You wanted to argue, to say this isn't what you meant, that it wasn’t what you wanted. But the exhaustion—the same exhaustion that had been eating away at you for months—kept your words locked in your throat.

Instead, you met his gaze and forced yourself to speak, your voice trembling. “Thank you.”

Sylus nodded, his crimson eyes steady as he said, “Of course.” His voice was calm, but the way he took a deep breath afterward made you think he was mulling something over. For a moment, you thought he might say nothing more, but then his gaze flickered to yours, a faint glimmer of thoughtfulness crossing his expression.

“You know…” he began, his voice softer now, “your birthday is coming up.”

The words hit you like a shockwave. Your birthday. How could you have forgotten? But then again, time had become such a blur in this place. The days bled into weeks, and the weeks into months, each one heavier than the last. You stared at him, stunned, as the realization sank in.

“Oh…right,” you murmured, your voice quiet. “It is nearing the end of September.”

Sylus gave a small nod, his lips curving into a faint, contemplative smile. He seemed to weigh his next words carefully, the silence stretching between you like a taut string. Finally, he spoke again, his tone as casual as if he were offering to fetch you a glass of water.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, leaning back slightly. “For your birthday…I’ll take you to Linkon. You can shop for the rest of the baby things you wanted. Consider it one of your many presents.”

For a second, you couldn’t breathe. You stared at him, your brain struggling to process what you’d just heard. He had to be joking. There was no way Sylus, the same man who kept you locked away for months, was offering to take you to Linkon—himself. Was this some kind of trick? Some twisted game to see how you’d react?

“What did you do with Sylus?” you asked finally, your tone half-joking, half-bewildered. “You can’t actually mean that.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s no joke,” he assured you, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. “I assume you already know there will be very little chance for any misbehaving.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Of course not. You weren’t naïve enough to think he’d let his guard down completely. But the thought of even leaving this place, of setting foot in Linkon again, made your mind spin. Would this be your chance? Could you call for help? Could you escape? The fire that had been smothered for so long began to flicker again, a spark of defiance reigniting inside you.

“Right,” you said slowly, nodding as you tried to keep your voice steady. “I’m almost eight months pregnant, Sy. Can’t exactly run that well.” You offered a weak joke, your lips twitching into a small, nervous smile.

He smirked faintly, his gaze lingering on you as though he could see right through your attempt at humor. “Good,” he said simply. “Because this isn’t a gift I intend to regret.”

You nodded again, but inside, your thoughts were racing. This was it—your last chance, your only chance. If you were going to escape, it had to be then. You couldn’t waste it. For the first time in months, the possibility of freedom didn’t feel so far away.

You just had to make it count.

As the days crept closer to the 29th, the tension in the house became unbearable. Sylus seemed calm, but you could feel the undercurrent of his ever-present watchfulness. He wasn’t a man who left things to chance, and you knew better than to think he hadn’t already considered every possible outcome. The thought made your chest tighten.

And then there was the question you hadn’t dared voice aloud: Would you run into anyone you knew?

The idea sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through you. What if you saw someone from your old life? Someone who recognized you, who asked questions? Would Sylus allow it? Or would he shut it down and force you to leave?

The thought of seeing an old friend, of having to explain your situation—or worse, being unable to—made you want to curl up in a ball and hide. You couldn’t decide what was worse: the idea that they might not notice anything was wrong, or the possibility that they might.

By the night of the 28th, the anxiety had reached its peak. You barely touched your dinner, your stomach too unsettled to handle more than a few bites. Sylus noticed, of course, but he didn’t comment. He simply watched you with those red eyes of his, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips, as though he could see straight through you. You expected him to push you to eat more, but surprisingly he didn't.

When you finally lay down that night, your body was trembling with exhaustion, but your mind refused to shut off. The possibilities, the questions, the sheer weight of what tomorrow might bring—it was all too much.

You pressed a hand to your belly, feeling the faint movements of your daughter beneath your palm. She could probably feel your beating heart and anxiety. “It’s going to be okay,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you believed it. “Its just one day.”

But as the hours ticked by and sleep continued to evade you, all you could think about was how close you were to finally leaving this place and how terrified you were of what might happen next. For the first time in your life you weren't excited for your birthday. It would be the first birthday spent without friends or family by your side. You wondered if anyone back home would even remember?

You didn't want to think about it anymore.

You woke up to the scent of something sweet wafting into the room, the faint clinking of a tray bringing you out of the haze of a restless sleep. You blinked groggily, your heart immediately racing as you registered the figure standing beside the bed. Sylus. His eyes gleamed with their usual intensity, but his expression was softened, almost…warm.

“Happy birthday honey” he said smoothly, his voice low as he set the tray down in front of you.

Your breath caught as you sat up, your body stiff and sluggish from the weight of pregnancy. On the tray was a spread of breakfast—fresh fruit, buttery croissants, and a glass of orange juice. A small card sat to the side, its edges gilded, your name written on it in his elegant script.

“Thank you, Sy” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as your heart thudded in your chest. His unexpected kindness always left you feeling unsteady, as if the ground beneath you could shift at any moment.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on you as you took a tentative bite of the food. The flavors melted on your tongue, but you barely tasted them, your mind spinning too fast to focus on anything else.

As you picked at the plate, Sylus leaned back slightly, his tone casual but laced with intent. “Have you made a decision on the new home yet? No rush, of course. But if you’ve chosen one, we could tour it after we leave Linkon.”

The question sent a fresh wave of tension coursing through you. He was so composed, so calm, as if this were just a normal conversation between a husband and wife. You swallowed hard, shaking your head as you placed the fork down carefully on the tray.

“I…I’m still thinking about it,” you said, forcing a small smile. “Thank you for giving me time.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he stood. “Of course. It’s your day, after all. No pressure.”

The way he said it, the deliberate gentleness in his tone, made your skin prickle. Sylus never did anything without purpose, and his kindness now felt like a carefully calculated move. Still, you nodded, your smile brittle as you finished the food mechanically. You didn’t care about the penthouses. You didn’t care about your birthday. All you cared about was getting to Linkon—and the faint, fragile hope that you might find a way to act once you were there.

After breakfast, Sylus helped you downstairs, his hand resting lightly on your back as you descended. The air in the house felt different—charged, expectant. You could feel it before you even reached the bottom step.

As you turned the corner into the living room, you were met with a loud shout. “Surprise!”

Luke and Kieran jumped out from behind the couch, grinning like fools as they threw handfuls of confetti into the air. One of them miscalculated and bumped into Sylus, who shot them a pointed look but didn’t say anything.

The living room was a kaleidoscope of color. Balloons of every shape and size floated along the ceiling, ribbons cascading down like waterfalls. The table was covered in a spread of snacks and a small cake with “Happy Birthday” written in elegant frosting.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine sound breaking through the wall of tension in your chest. Their energy was infectious, and for a brief moment, you let yourself feel the joy they were so clearly trying to share.

“Happy birthday!” Luke said, thrusting a party hat in your direction with an exaggerated flourish. Kieran crossed his arms at the gesture, but his laugh betrayed his amusement.

“Thank you,” you said, your smile widening as you took the hat. You glanced around the room, taking in the decorations, the effort they’d put into all of this. It was overwhelming. Surreal. None of it felt real.

You moved through the motions, thanking them, laughing at their antics as they joked about how hard it had been to keep this a secret. But deep down, you felt detached, like you were watching it all unfold from a distance. The decorations, the laughter, the balloons—it was all a distraction. A beautiful illusion that only served to highlight how far removed you felt from yourself.

Sylus stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His presence was a constant reminder, a tether that kept you from fully enjoying the moment. You weren’t free, no matter how brightly the balloons shone or how cute the decorations looked.

Your hands rested protectively on your belly, grounding you as you forced yourself to smile, to laugh, to nod along to the twins’ jokes. Inside, your thoughts churned.

All you cared about was Linkon.

Your mind raced with possibilities and plans, each one more fragile than the last. Could you slip away? Call for help? Find someone—anyone—who could get you out of this nightmare? The fire that had reignited in your chest burned brighter now, fueled by the proximity of what could be your only chance.

The morning already felt like a whirlwind, and the surprises weren’t over yet. Just as you thought things were calming down after the confetti and laughter with Luke and Kieran, one of Sylus’s chefs rounded the corner. The man was carrying an enormous, lavishly decorated cake, the kind you’d only seen in magazines or fancy restaurants. It was perfectly frosted, adorned with intricate details that looked almost too beautiful to eat, and crowned with lit candles that flickered softly in the light.

You stared, shocked at how he was managing to balance it all without toppling over. “A cake too?” you murmured, glancing at Sylus. “You spoil me, Sylus.”

He smiled faintly, his crimson eyes glinting as he motioned for the chef to set the cake down. “Only the best,” he said smoothly. “Light the candles.”

As the chef adjusted the candles, Luke suddenly piped up, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Should we sing happy birthday, boss?”

Kieran joined in immediately, clapping his hands together. “Yeah, yeah, let’s sing happy birthday!”

Before you could protest, the chef, Luke, Kieran—and even Sylus—started singing. The twins’ voices were loud and theatrical, the chef’s was surprisingly melodic, but Sylus…oh, Sylus sounded like a dying cow. His voice was deep and off-key, dragging the notes in a way that almost made you laugh.

You bit your lip to suppress the giggle bubbling up in your chest, but when you glanced at him, you saw he wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest. In fact, he looked…happy. Genuinely happy.

When the song ended, Sylus leaned closer, his voice low and deliberate. “Make a wish, honey.”

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, mustering the best smile you could. A wish. You turned back to the cake, the candles flickering before you. The moment felt surreal, almost dreamlike, as if you were standing on the precipice of something monumental.

You closed your eyes, your mind racing. I wish to see Xavier again, just once. I wish for my daughter to live as happily as she can, regardless of what's to come. I wish for some control of my life back—even if I can never truly escape this. The thoughts came unbidden, raw and desperate. They weren’t just wishes; they were your heart laid bare.

With a deep breath, you leaned forward and blew out the candles.

As the room filled with applause from the twins, Sylus motioned toward a towering pile of presents sitting near the table. Your eyes widened as you took in the sheer number of them, the boxes wrapped in elegant paper and tied with shimmering ribbons.

“I—I can’t possibly open all of these today,” you stammered, staring at the mountain of gifts. “I’ll get tired by the tenth one.”

Sylus chuckled, his amusement evident. “Alright. Pick a few to open now, and you can get to the rest when we return.”

When we return. His words echoed in your mind, sending a chill down your spine. You forced yourself to smile and nod, pushing the thought aside. There was no guarantee you’d be coming back. Not if you could help it.

You began opening the presents, each one revealing something more extravagant than the last. Designer bags, stunning pieces of jewelry, elegant outfits—items you’d once dreamed of owning but could never afford. You wanted to ask Sylus how he knew these were things you’d wanted, but you didn’t. Instead, you thanked him for each one, forcing a smile as the twins “oohed” and “ahhed” over the luxury of it all.

Eventually, you picked up a smaller box that Luke and Kieran eagerly pointed out as their gift. You opened it to reveal a gorgeous portrait of yourself, intricately drawn and framed. The detail was stunning—almost lifelike—and your breath caught as you stared at it.

“You guys didn’t tell me you could draw,” you said, your voice filled with genuine surprise. “This is gorgeous. Thank you.”

The twins beamed with pride, immediately launching into a playful argument about who had contributed more. “I did the shading!” Luke declared.

“ But I did the fine details!” Kieran countered.

You couldn’t help but laugh, their bickering easing some of the tension in your chest. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of their gestures, even as the weight of the day pressed heavily on your mind.

Eventually, Sylus checked his watch and straightened. “We should get going,” he said, his tone calm but firm. Your heart skipped a beat as he ordered the twins to bring the car around to the front. This was it. It was happening. Linkon. You were going to Linkon.

Keeping your excitement carefully hidden, you excused yourself to go upstairs and change. Among the gifts Sylus had given you was a beautiful dress—simple yet elegant, with a cut that accommodated your growing belly. He’d even purchased it in two sizes, one for now and one for after the baby was born. The thoughtfulness of the gesture left you conflicted, but you didn’t dwell on it. Not now.

You slipped into the dress, smoothing the fabric over your bump as you caught your reflection in the mirror. For a brief moment, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. The woman staring back at you looked calm, composed. But beneath the surface, your heart raced with the weight of what lay ahead.

When you returned downstairs, Sylus was waiting by the door. His crimson eyes roamed over you, his lips curving into a small smile. “You look beautiful,” he said simply, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to smile as he guided you toward the car.

The drive began in tense silence, the sound of the engine and the faint murmur of the twins in the front seat filling the space. You stared out the window, your mind racing as the familiar streets of N109 Zone gave way to the outskirts of Linkon. Your heart pounded, anticipation and fear warring within you.

After a while, Sylus broke the silence. “I can understand how strange and…different this day must feel for you,” he said, his tone measured. “If you’re upset, you can tell me.”

You glanced at him, your pulse quickening. For a moment, you considered telling the truth, laying everything bare. But then you saw the faint tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped his knees. Even Sylus, it seemed, was on edge today. You couldn’t risk it. Not now.

“Sure,” you said instead, keeping your voice light. “A little different. But you guys have done a great job making it special, regardless. Thank you.”

Your smile was genuine, though not for the reasons he’d think. You were grateful—not for the celebrations, but for the opportunity that lay ahead.

Sylus studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “I love you,” he said simply.

You nodded, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. “I know.”

And as the city skyline of Linkon came into view, you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for a whirlwind of emotions.

The first thing you felt was the sun.

Its warmth poured through the car windows, leaving trails of heat wherever it touched your skin. It felt like heaven, a balm for your soul after months spent in artificial light. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, savoring the moment. But when you opened them again, the light was blinding, harsh after so long without it. You winced, squinting against the brightness.

Sylus noticed immediately. Without a word, his hand came up to turn your head gently away from the window, shielding your eyes from the light with his palm. The gesture was unexpectedly thoughtful, catching you off guard.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft.

He nodded, but you noticed him squinting too, his eyes narrowed against the sunlight. Was he sensitive to light? It made sense, you supposed, given the rare, striking red color of his irises. It was a strange thing to observe, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what other vulnerabilities might lie beneath his controlled exterior.

The car came to a gentle stop, and you felt your heart begin to race. This was it. You were in Linkon. The opportunity you’d been waiting for was just outside that door, and yet, your chest tightened with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Sylus stepped out first, circling to your side and opening the door. His hand extended toward you, his gaze firm but steady. “Come along,” he said, his voice calm.

You hesitated for only a second before placing your hand in his. Maneuvering with your belly was a challenge on its own, and as you stepped out of the car, you couldn’t help but feel like a waddling penguin. The thought made your cheeks flush, but Sylus’s hand was steady as he guided you to your feet.

When you looked up, the sight of where you were hit you like a freight train. You were standing in the parking lot of one of Linkon’s largest shopping malls—Aurora Galleria. Its gleaming glass façade stretched high into the sky, reflecting the sunlight like a beacon. You’d been here countless times before, shopping with Tara or browsing aimlessly on weekends. The memories came flooding back, unbidden and bittersweet, making your throat tighten.

I never thought I’d be back here...like this.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly, unwilling to let Sylus see. He shut the car door behind you, giving the twins some instructions you couldn’t quite hear. Then his attention turned back to you, his hand still holding yours.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice smooth but laced with an undercurrent of authority.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and let him guide you toward the entrance. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Sylus’s hand squeezed yours slightly as you walked, the gesture clear even without words: Behave.

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting as you stepped through the automatic doors into the cool, air-conditioned interior of the mall. It was a stark contrast to the warmth outside, but it did little to soothe the nerves coursing through you. The space was massive, bustling with people, their voices echoing faintly against the high ceilings. The familiar hum of life surrounded you, and for a moment, you felt dizzy, overwhelmed by how normal it all seemed.

And yet, nothing about this was normal. Not for you.

A child suddenly darted past you, nearly knocking you off balance. You gasped, your body instinctively tilting forward, but Sylus’s grip tightened immediately. His arm slipped around your waist, steadying you as you regained your footing.

“Careful,” he said, his tone low but firm.

You nodded, grateful for the support even as the weight of his presence made your chest tighten further.

“There’s quite a few baby-oriented stores on the first floor,” he continued, gesturing towards an area of the mall nearby. “This way.”

You followed him silently, letting him guide you. Every step felt heavier than the last, your mind racing as you scanned the faces of the people you passed. You tried to catch someone’s eye, hoping to silently signal that something was wrong, that you needed help. But no one looked your way for more than a second. Their gazes slid past you, uninterested and unaware.

Your heart sank. It was as if you were invisible. Already, you could feel your chances of escaping slipping through your fingers.

No. You can’t give up that easily.

The baby clothing store was bright and cheerful, filled with racks of tiny outfits in every color imaginable. The sales clerk, a woman with a bubbly demeanor, greeted you the moment you stepped inside.

“Welcome!” she said brightly, her voice warm and inviting. “Can I help you find anything today?”

Before you could respond, her eyes drifted to your belly, and her face lit up with a wide grin. “Congratulations! Boy or girl?”

The lump in your throat returned, but you managed to smile, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “It’s a girl. Thank you.”

“How lovely!” the clerk gushed. “Our entire back wall is dedicated to girl clothes, and we actually have a discount for currently expecting parents! Just find me when you’re ready to check out.”

You nodded politely, offering her another smile before turning your attention to the rows of clothing. Sylus was already scanning the racks with a critical eye, his hand still resting lightly on your back as if to remind you that he was there.

The nervous energy in your chest only grew as you moved through the store, your thoughts racing. What would you do if someone recognized you? If you saw Tara? Would you scream for help? Would Sylus drag you away before you could even finish the thought? You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noting the calm, composed way he carried himself. He seemed utterly unbothered, as though this were just another mundane errand.

Meanwhile, every step you took felt like walking a tightrope. And with each passing moment, the weight of what you needed to do pressed heavier on your shoulders.

Don’t lose focus. Not yet.

The back wall was a dazzling display of baby clothes, neatly arranged by color and design. Soft whites, pastel blues, delicate pinks, even bold black and red outfits caught your eye as you scanned the racks. Each one was more adorable than the last, with tiny bows, frilly trims, or playful patterns. But as you reached out to pick up a red onesie adorned with a cute animal print, your attention snagged on the price tag.

“Fifty dollars…for one? Are these made out of the finest pure cotton or something?” you gasped, dropping the tag as if it had burned you. You stared at the onesie in disbelief. Who spends fifty dollars on a single piece of baby clothing?

A low chuckle from beside you made you whip your head around. Sylus, who had somehow secured a shopping basket without you noticing, reached out and picked up the onesie you’d dropped. Without a word, he tossed it into the basket with an air of nonchalance, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

“Let me worry about the price, sweetie,” he said, his tone smooth and confident. “You can pick whatever you’d like.”

You scoffed inwardly, your irritation flaring. Oh, he’s so rich, you thought bitterly. How could I forget?

Something about the moment—the absurdity of standing in a baby store with Sylus, the fresh air of being out in public for the first time in months, or maybe just the hormonal rollercoaster you were riding—emboldened you. With a smirk tugging at your lips, you reached into the basket, pulled out the red onesie, and placed it back on the rack with exaggerated flair.

“That one is ugly,” you said, feigning disdain as you turned to face him. “Can’t have my daughter in unflattering colors.”

Sylus raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he leaned slightly toward you. There was a glint in his crimson eyes, a mix of amusement and intrigue as he seemed to catch onto your attitude. “Since when is red an unflattering color, sweetie?” he asked smoothly. “Does that mean you hate the majority of my wardrobe?”

A flash of irritation sparked inside you, and you crossed your arms, your expression defiant. “As a matter of fact, I do,” you shot back. “Would it kill you to change it up once in a while?”

He simply laughed, the sound rich and infuriatingly warm, as if you’d told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Noted,” he said, his voice still laced with amusement. "I didn't realize I was in the presence of a fashion expert. I humbly apologize for liking the color red"

You scowled, turning back to the rack of clothes. Smug asshole. Your fingers brushed over the soft fabric of another onesie as your mind whirled. If he wanted to play this game, you could play it too.

With a sweet but pointed tone, you turned to him and said, “Actually, you’re right, Sylus. Red isn’t a bad color.” You paused, letting the moment linger before delivering the punchline. “In fact…why not get all of them? One of each color, every design, and in every size.”

For a brief moment, you thought you’d caught him off guard. But Sylus barely blinked. Instead, he turned on his heel, motioned to the cashier, and said casually, “Need these in every color, every design, and every size. The whole wall.”

The young woman’s eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Y-yeah,” she stammered. “Let me get another employee to help me!” She disappeared into the back, leaving you standing there, your jaw clenched and your glare fixed on Sylus.

Of course, money wasn’t an obstacle for him. Nothing was. He didn’t even hesitate, as if the ridiculousness of buying an entire wall of baby clothes didn’t faze him in the slightest. You fumed silently, your mind racing for some sort of comeback, but the only thing you could think was, Fine. He’s carrying all those damn bags anyway.

Sylus turned back to you, his expression calm and self-satisfied, as if daring you to say something. You didn’t. Instead, you grabbed another onesie—this time a soft pastel blue—and tossed it into the basket with a defiant flick of your wrist. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his smirk still firmly in place.

The sales clerk returned moments later with two other employees, each armed with empty baskets. They hurriedly began pulling clothes from the wall, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief as they tried to keep up with Sylus’s order. He even instructed them to add some baby shoes in the mix.

You stood there, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold. It should have been amusing—absurd, even—but all you could feel was a simmering irritation and a growing sense of helplessness. No matter how much you tried to push back, Sylus always had the upper hand. He always won.

But not today. Today, you had a bigger game to play. Just needed the right moment.

Sylus stood at the counter, casually brandishing his sleek black card as the cashier rang up the final total. You didn’t miss the way her eyes widened when she saw it, her professional demeanor faltering for a moment before she recovered. No doubt she’d be gossiping with her coworkers the moment you left.

“Your total comes to $2,594,” the cashier announced with a polite smile, though her voice betrayed a hint of disbelief. "With the discount!"

Internally, you screamed. Over two and a half grand for baby clothes?! In no world, under any normal circumstances, would you ever spend that kind of money on onesies and tiny shoes. Yet here you were, watching Sylus swipe his card without hesitation, as if the amount were pocket change. You tried not to gape at him as he calmly took back the card and tucked it into his wallet.

When everything was bagged up—dozens of glossy shopping bags stacked high—you couldn’t help the small flicker of satisfaction that came with watching him carry them all himself. It was ridiculous how many bags there were, and seeing him juggling them with practiced ease gave you a petty sense of amusement.

As you both exited the store, Sylus turned to you, his crimson eyes sharp but calm. “You’re quiet,” he remarked, his voice laced with curiosity. “Are you hungry?”

You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem to be in a bad mood,” he replied smoothly. “Food usually fixes it, so I’m asking.”

You internally cursed him. He wasn’t wrong. Despite the lavish breakfast he’d prepared for you earlier and the cake, your stomach was already growling. Being pregnant had turned you into a bottomless pit of cravings, and the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting from the food court wasn’t helping.

Sylus noticed the way your eyes drifted toward the cookie stand and smirked knowingly. Without a word, he set down the bags in a neat pile and reached into his pocket, handing you his black card.

“Go on then,” he said, his tone almost indulgent. “You can use my card. I’ll be sitting over there.” He motioned to one of the tables in the food court, his expression calm and composed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at the card in your hand, its surprising weight catching you off guard. It was cold and metallic, an unmistakable sign of wealth and exclusivity. No wonder the cashier had been so wide-eyed. This wasn’t a card anyone could get their hands on. It was one of a kind, a statement of power.

For a moment, you hesitated, your mind racing. Is this some kind of test? The thought made your palms sweat. Was he seeing if you’d try to slip away, or talk to someone? You glanced back at him, but his demeanor remained relaxed, his attention already turning to his phone.

You swallowed hard and waddled toward the cookie stand, your mouth watering as the scent of chocolate and sugar grew stronger. The worker greeted you cheerfully, her smile wide as she asked, “What can I get for you?”

You opened your mouth, tempted to blurt everything out—Help me. Please. I’m not here by choice. But as you looked at her, doubt crept in. Would she even believe you? And what would happen if Sylus noticed something was off? The thought of what he might do—both to you and the unsuspecting worker—froze the words in your throat.

Instead, you forced a smile and placed your order. “Two chocolate chip cookie sandwiches with chocolate icing in between, covered in sprinkles, please. And a lemonade.”

The worker beamed. “Great choice!”

You waited as she prepared your order, your heart pounding the entire time. When she handed over the cookies, you murmured a quick thanks before waddling back to Sylus, your hands trembling slightly around the black card.

But when you reached the table, something caught your attention immediately. The massive pile of shopping bags was gone.

“The bags, Sylus,” you said, your voice rising slightly in surprise. “Where did they go?”

He looked up from his phone, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “They didn’t disappear, honey,” he said smoothly. “They’re fine.”

You scowled, irritated by his cryptic response. “That’s not an answer. Where are they?”

His smile widened, clearly amused by your reaction. “Relax,” he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. “The twins are handling them.”

Of course. You should’ve known. Seeing him struggle with all those bags had been a small, satisfying victory, but naturally, Sylus always had a solution. And with Luke and Kieran undoubtedly running errands for him somewhere in the mall, he didn’t even have to lift a finger.

You grumbled under your breath, biting into one of the cookies as you sat down across from him. The sweetness melted on your tongue, momentarily distracting you from your irritation.

Sylus watched you carefully, his crimson eyes studying your expression. “Better?” he asked after a moment, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

You glared at him, still chewing, but didn’t answer. Smug bastard. But at least the cookie was good. He seemed willing to entertain your attitude at least.

The first sound that drew your attention was the screaming, sharp and frenzied. It rippled through the food court like a shockwave, followed by the unmistakable click-click-click of cameras.

“Rafayel!! Rafayel! Big fan, please sign my arm!” a voice shrieked, and you turned to look.

Sure enough, a mass of people had gathered near the escalators, chasing after a casually dressed man with striking purple hair. He wore a simple white shirt and white pants, his outfit at odds with the chaos surrounding him. Bodyguards flanked him, trying—and failing—to push the crowd back as phones were shoved in his face.

He looked exasperated, but his steps remained measured, even purposeful, as though he were used to this kind of attention. There was something familiar about him, his features tugging at the edges of your memory.

“Rafayel?” you murmured, tilting your head. “Like the artist?”

Sylus barely glanced at the scene, instead reaching up to dab the corner of your mouth with a napkin. The motion was practiced, intimate, and you let him do it without flinching, too engrossed in what was unfolding in front of you.

“What’s someone like him doing here?” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the crowd.

Sylus smirked faintly. “There’s quite a bit of luxury stores here. Why wouldn’t someone like him shop here?”

His words made sense, but your focus was elsewhere. People were pressing closer to Rafayel, their hands clutching phones, holding them high to snap pictures. You could see the glint of screens flashing, and the realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. Phones. Phones meant access.

Your throat tightened, and you suddenly choked on a bite of your cookie. Coughing, you grabbed your lemonade and took a long sip, washing down the pain. Sylus’s gaze sharpened, his hand resting lightly on yours.

“You alright, kitten?” he asked, his tone calm but tinged with concern.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing him off. But your mind was spinning. I need a phone. I need a way to use one without Sylus noticing. He was always watching, always close, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t escape.

But then your eyes drifted across the mall, landing on a nearby sign. Restrooms. The realization hit you like a burst of light. Of course. The bathroom. He couldn’t follow you in there. It was your one chance to slip away and ask someone—anyone—if you could borrow their phone. Maybe they’d let you call for help, or at the very least, send a message.

Sylus’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “It’s rude to stare so hard, kitten. I can ask him for an autograph if you want,” he teased, though there was an unmistakable edge to his tone. Jealousy.

You turned back to him, startled. “Oh! No, I’m not a fan,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s just crazy. I’ve never seen a celebrity up close before…”

You trailed off deliberately, your hand drifting to your belly as you feigned sudden discomfort. “Shit,” you muttered, clutching your side. “I’ve gotta pee. I drank my lemonade too fast.”

Sylus raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “You’re always rushing with your drinks,” he said, but his tone wasn’t dismissive. He leaned back slightly, motioning toward the restroom. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

You nodded, forcing a small, sheepish smile as you rose from the table. Your heart pounded as you waddled toward the restrooms, trying to keep your steps measured and casual. Inside, the plan you’d been crafting felt both daring and fragile. It was risky, but it was your only shot.

Now or never, you thought, the weight of your decision pressing down on you as you reached the door and stepped inside.

The bathroom was bustling with activity—women waiting for stalls, washing their hands, chatting casually with one another. The sound of running water and faint laughter filled the air. Near the corner, a little girl clutched her mother’s dress tightly, her wide eyes fixated on you as you entered. You felt your cheeks flush under her innocent gaze, suddenly all too aware of your presence in the crowded space.

You stood there awkwardly, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the room. Each woman seemed like a possible lifeline, but also a potential risk. Who do I ask? Your palms were damp, and you clutched them together to steady your nerves. What’s the worst they could say? No?

But no wasn’t the answer you feared. It was the possibility that someone might call attention to you. Or worse, that Sylus might sense something was wrong and come storming in.

Finally, your eyes landed on a short, older woman near the sinks, typing away on her phone. Her graying hair was pulled into a neat bun, and her expression was sharp, preoccupied. She seemed approachable enough—or at least, not overtly intimidating. Summoning every ounce of courage, you took a deep breath and stepped toward her.

“Excuse me?” you said, your voice trembling slightly. She glanced up from her phone, her eyes narrowing as she took you in. “Can I…use your phone? I need to call someone.”

Her gaze shifted to your belly, and something flickered in her eyes—judgment? Disgust? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist. You felt small under her scrutiny, like you had to defend yourself for daring to ask.

“Don’t you have a phone, dear? Where’s yours?” she asked, her tone edged with suspicion.

Your mind raced. You needed an excuse, something plausible but not overly detailed. Would she think you were crazy if you told her the truth—that you’d been kidnapped and were living under constant surveillance? Would she even believe you? Or worse, would Sylus somehow track her down later? You shivered at the thought, deciding quickly that it wasn’t worth involving an innocent bystander more than necessary.

“I…I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Mine’s dead. I just need to make a quick phone call. I'm really lost. I promise—it’ll only take a second.”

She sighed heavily, tapping something into her phone before holding it out to you. “Quickly, please,” she said. “My husband is waiting for me as well.”

Relief washed over you like a tidal wave. “Thank you,” you whispered, your hands shaking slightly as you took the phone.

This was it—your chance. Your mind scrambled as you opened the keypad. Who do I call? Police? It was a tempting thought, but the idea was quickly squashed by reality. Even if they arrested Sylus, what if they didn’t hold him? What if he slipped away and came back for you later, more prepared, more ruthless? You couldn’t risk it.

Captain Jenna? The thought flickered briefly, but you dismissed it. She might involve too many others, escalating the situation in ways you couldn’t control.

Your fingers hesitated over the keypad before a name settled firmly in your mind: Xavier.

You blinked a few times, steadying your breath as you began to enter the numbers. The phone rang once. Twice. The sound brought a flood of déjà vu, memories of the first time you’d escaped flashing through your mind. You were standing at a grimy phone booth back then, desperate and shaking, waiting for him to pick up. Just like now.

Finally, a familiar voice came through the line. “Ah, hello? I think you may have the wrong number,” the smooth, quiet tone said.

You nearly collapsed in tears at the sound of it. “Xavier…” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s me. I don’t have a lot of time, an—”

You stopped abruptly, your heart seizing as you remembered the story you’d given the woman watching you. Her brow was already arched in suspicion. Stick to the story.

“It’s you...” Xavier’s voice shifted instantly, concern and excitement lacing his words. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

Your heart raced, but you forced yourself to sound calm, casual. “Honey,” you said, clenching your teeth as you plastered on a smile. “I need you to meet me at the shoe store near the fountain in the mall. It seems I’ve lost you, and my phone’s dead. Please hurry.”

“The mall?” His voice sharpened with urgency. “Which one? The big one? Aurora Galleria?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, your heart pounding even harder. “Please hurry.”

“I can be there in about twenty minutes, okay? Don’t go anywhere, please!” You could hear the sounds of him moving quickly, the faint click of a door unlocking in the background.

“Yes, honey. Love you too. Bye now,” you said, your voice soft but deliberate as you ended the call.

Handing the phone back to the woman, you gave her a sheepish smile. “Thank you so much,” you said. “Sorry for the trouble.”

She nodded curtly, taking her phone back and slipping it into her pocket. “Hope you find him,” she said, her tone neutral as she walked away.

You exhaled slowly, your pulse still racing as you turned toward the sinks. Twenty minutes. You had twenty minutes to keep everything together. To not draw Sylus’s suspicion. To not falter.

Steeling yourself, you walked out of the bathroom, forcing your breathing to steady as you returned to where Sylus waited.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced your face to remain calm as you approached Sylus. He sat casually at the table, scrolling on his phone, the picture of ease. There wasn’t a single hint of suspicion in his expression as he glanced up at you.

“Any longer and I would’ve thought you’d fallen into the toilet,” he teased with a smirk, his crimson eyes flicking to yours.

You rolled your eyes at his joke, managing a small chuckle to play along. The enormous clock hanging on the wall of the mall caught your eye. Twenty minutes. That’s how long you had. You needed to keep him occupied, keep him unsuspecting until you could make another excuse to slip away.

“The baby still needs toys and such…” you said, your voice light and cheerful as you smiled at him. “Where could we shop for those?”

Sylus raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, his gaze scanning the nearby stores. His eyes landed on another child-oriented shop across the way on the third floor, its colorful displays practically spilling into the walkway. “She won’t need toys for a few months,” he said, his voice calm, “but it can’t hurt to stock up.”

“Great!” you replied, grabbing his hand and pretending to be excited. “Let’s go!”

He let you lead him, his fingers curling around yours as the two of you walked to the store. Inside, the next twenty minutes were a blur of colorful toys, tiny pacifiers, and shelves lined with bottles. You feigned enthusiasm, picking items off the racks and handing them to Sylus while your mind was consumed with the clock. You kept glancing at it from the corner of your eye, counting down the seconds.

Eventually, the twenty minutes passed. A quick glance at the store clock told you that Xavier was likely here—either in the parking lot or somewhere near the store by now. Your pulse quickened as you turned to Sylus. He was at the register, calmly paying for the mountain of baby items the two of you had collected.

Your eyes lingered on him. This man. The one who had stolen your entire life, twisted it beyond recognition. He had taken your mind, your body, your soul, leaving you a shadow of who you once were. You would never forget his face, not for as long as you lived.

Sylus finished the transaction and turned toward you, catching you off guard as he ruffled your hair affectionately. The gesture sent a strange shiver down your spine. “You’ve been staring an awful lot today,” he said, his tone amused. “Come along.”

You forced yourself to move, your legs feeling unsteady beneath you. As you walked toward the store’s entrance, you had to focus all your energy on keeping yourself from trembling. This is it. It’s now or never.

“Sylus,” you began, your voice wavering slightly but soft enough to pass as gratitude. “I really want to thank you for letting me experience shopping for her in person. I didn’t think you’d let me.”

His face softened, and for a fleeting moment, he smiled at you—warm, genuine, as if everything was normal. “Of course,” he said. “I know things haven’t always been easy between us. I really do think our daughter will change everything.”

He reached out and took one of the bags from your hand, his touch light but deliberate. “Where’s this coming from?” he teased, his smirk returning. “You were so mad at me earlier. It was cute.”

You faltered for a moment, caught off guard by his words, but quickly recovered. “Ah…” you said, clutching your belly as if on cue. “She’s on my bladder again. Sorry, Sy. Sucks the nearest bathroom is on the first floor.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but calm. “Of course. I’ll make sure the bags don’t disappear this time.”

You gave him a sheepish smile and turned away, walking toward the escalator with steady steps. You didn’t look back, even though you could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Go. Just go. Goodbye, Sylus. See you never.

The ride down felt like the longest seconds of your life. Your thoughts swirled as you hit the bottom and turned the corner toward the bathrooms. You walked just far enough to make it look like you were heading inside, but when a surge of the crowd passed by, you turned abruptly, weaving yourself into the throng of people.

Go. Go. Faster. Don’t look back.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat echoing in your ears as you slipped through the sea of bodies. You turned another corner, your breath catching as the familiar shape of the mall’s fountain came into view. Relief and fear collided in your chest, pushing you forward.

Okay, the shoe store. Your eyes locked onto the display windows filled with polished shoes, your legs carrying you faster than you thought possible with your belly. You stepped into the store, scanning the small crowd.

And then you saw it—him.

Blond ash-colored hair, slightly broad shoulders, and piercing blue eyes. Xavier. He was standing near the back of the store, his posture rigid, his gaze scanning the area anxiously.

“Xavier…” you called out, your voice cracking as you took a hesitant step forward.

His head snapped toward you instantly, his eyes going wide as they took you in. For a moment, neither of you moved, frozen in place as if the world had stopped spinning. You watched his eyes drop to your belly, then back onto your face. The emotions swirling in his gaze mirrored your own—relief, disbelief, and something deeper.

Love.

And then, before you even realized what you were doing, your legs carried you forward. You were running, as fast as your body would allow, a single tear slipping down your cheek.

“Xavier,” you choked out again, your voice breaking as you broke into a sprint towards him.

The world around seemed like it disappeared. Nothing else mattered right now as you ran towards your first love.

You had gotten one of your birthday wishes after all.

[cherimoyatea]

Heyyy, can I request an ff where Sylus and Mc are having their intimate moment but they forgot to close the door so Luke and Kieran accidentally saw them?

Ahhh a request! Hi Annonie!

Thank you so much for trusting me with your request! I actually never saw that coming, so I'm kind of both nervous and excited at the same time!

Life has been busy recently and I didn't have much time to write but your request was spinning in the back of my head! And this was so much fun to write!

I changed my style for a more comedic route this time and kept things lighthearted, hope that's okay!

Love, Cheri 🍒

❧ Sylus - Private Surprise

Pairing: Sylus x You Word Count: 826 Tags: established relationship, comedy, suggestive content (kissing, making out, no smut tho), luke and kieran being adorkable

It's Friday night, and you have eagerly accepted your boyfriend's invitation to spend the weekend at his villa in the N109 Zone.

After a long, challenging week, the chance to spend a few days with him couldn't have come at a better time, and your heart fluttered when he picked you up to have dinner together before driving you both back to his place.

You're standing by the sideboard in his living room, about to pour yourself a drink, when Sylus suddenly appears behind you on silent toes, putting his hands on your hips.

''Mmm, I missed you, Kitten…''

He whispers in your ear, grazing it with the tip of his nose.

Slowly, the silver-haired man moves his head down your neck, gently placing soft kisses there. His touch on your skin sends a tingle through your body, and you can't help but close your eyes and tilt your neck, giving him more space as he moves down to your shoulder.

''S-Sylus… Luke and Kieran will be here anytime soon.''

You stutter nervously while his hands move to the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding beneath the fabric to find the soft skin of your stomach, a smirk forming on his lips. ''Don't worry about the twins, Sweetie. I've sent them off to pick something up for me—they'll be busy for a while.''

Even though your pulse is racing with excitement, you set your glass back on the sideboard and turn around with a teasing smile, crossing your arms to appear nonchalant. ''Oh! So this is the surprise you mentioned earlier? I see…''

''No Kitten…'' Sylus replies with a smug grin, unfazed by your cheeky attitude. Even though you are pretending to be indifferent, your flushed face gives you away. With one swift move, he lifts your hips and places you on the sideboard, stepping between your thighs as he spreads them with his strong hands. ''...the surprise is yet to come.''

The red-eyed man leans closer, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss before hungerily sliding his tongue out, inviting himself into your mouth. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you willingly let him in and wrap your arms around his neck, returning his kiss passionatly.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you don't hear the front door being opened and steps echoing in the hallway, coming closer…

''Boss, the address turned out to be wrong. We-''

You both startle and your heads swivel toward the voice when the door swings open and Luke and Kieran enter the living room, suddenly freezing in their movements as their eyes meet you and Sylus.

Obviously caught in a very intimate moment.

''O-Oh shit!! Boss?! MC??'' Kieran squeaks, while Luke throws his hands over his mask in an attempt to cover his eyes. Shrill screams echo through the huge villa, and Sylus raises an irritated eyebrow, unsure who's louder—the twins or you!

Panicked, the young men try to escape the awkward situation by running off, but Kieran stumbles over a pouf, grabs Luke's arm, and causes both of them to trip and fall to the floor instead.

''Waaah, my eyes, my eeeyes!'' Luke whines, rubbing his hands frantically on his mask, while Kieran tries to gather himself from the floor, still paralyzed by embarrassment.

The twins feel like they just walked into their parents!

''Argh, enough now!'' Sylus snarls and pulls away from you, giving you space to quickly jump off the sideboard and hide behind his large form so you can fix your disheveled state. With a single motion of his hand, the twins are swiftly thrown out of the living room, the door slamming shut behind them with a loud bang.

''N-Noo…!'' You cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat flood your cheeks.

Why didn't you lock the damn door?

''I'll never be able to face them again!'' You whine, wishing the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

Sylus lets out an amused huff and gently grips your wrists, pulling it away from your flushed face to look at you. ''I feel like the twins aren't any better, Kitten.''

The next morning, the twins are nowhere to be seen when you and Sylus have breakfast in the dining room. And even for the rest of your stay, there is no sign of them, anywhere.

Once you're back home, you find a small gift basket on your doorstep, filled with your favorite sweets, flowers, and plushies. As you approach, you catch a glimpse of two shadows hiding around the corner of your stairway, watching you closely from afar.

Pretending you didn't see them, you pick up the basket, fish for the note inside, and chuckle as you read it silently:

''Sorry MC! We won't tell anyone! Promise!

xoxo, Luke and Kieran

p.s.: Luke has serious questions about the 'sideboard moment' but don't worry, he's too embarrassed to ask.

p.p.s.: Next time, maybe a 'Do Not Disturb' sign?"

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

[blaire-apricity]

Ransom and Chocolate Cakes

sʏʟᴜs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : POV: You decided to kidnap a certain mechanical crow

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : short fiction, soft, fluff & possible OOC

ᯓ❅ ┆ credits & prompt┆ : original author & original post

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It was just an ordinary day for Sylus—at least, for him. He sat propped against the headboard of his bed, one hand holding a book while the other adjusted his glasses. The manor was eerily quiet, with neither the twins nor his mechanical bird in sight, though he found the silence liberating. It was a rare break from the usual noise that filled the halls.

The soft buzz of his phone disrupted the stillness. Without much thought, he reached for it from the bedside table, glancing at the caller ID. A small smirk tugged at his lips when he saw who it was.

Before he could say anything, her voice broke through—pouty, with an unmistakable air of mischief but no real threat behind it. “I’ve kidnapped Mephisto,” she announced, sounding almost rehearsed.

A raspy chuckle escaped him, more of a scoff than a laugh. "Is there a reason you’ve kidnapped Mephisto, sweetie?" he asked, closing his book and placing it in his lap, now fully invested in the conversation.

“I demand a ransom,” she replied, her voice slightly muffled, as if she were cuddling something soft—a pillow or a plushie, he imagined. “Chocolate cake and snuggles. If you want him back unharmed, you’d better come over soon.”

Sylus shook his head, already piecing together the cause of her sudden demands. With a swipe on his phone, he checked the calendar before returning it to his ear. “Did your period start today?” he asked knowingly.

There was a pause. “… No,” she finally replied, but the delay and tone gave her away and it only made Sylus smile wider, totally unconvinced.

He chuckled again, entertained by her antics. “Alright, I’ll be right over. Just make sure Mephisto stays alive for me, sweetie.”

“Okay,” she answered, her voice followed by a quick shuffling sound as if she stood up to check on something. “Mephisto’s fine. He’s eating popcorn and watching Hallmark Christmas movies with me.”

Sylus hummed in amusement. There was another moment of quiet before she spoke up again, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. “Can mechanical crows even eat? Is he allowed to have popcorn?”

A smirk touched his lips. “Not exactly.”

“Oh… shoot,” she muttered under her breath, likely glancing worriedly at the bird now pecking at the popcorn she’d made.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt him. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, and I’ll bring every type of chocolate cake you can dream of,” Sylus reassured, standing up, preparing to leave and rescue his mechanical crow from the whims of his mischievous kitten.

“…Okay...” she trailed off, her voice softer, almost hesitant, and it made him pause. He waited, knowing she wasn’t done. After a few seconds, she added, “…Can you also rub my tummy? Your hands make a good heating pad.”

Her tone was almost sheepish, and Sylus couldn’t help but smile to himself. “Yes, sweetie. I’ll rub your stomach—and anything else you need. See you soon."

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╰｡ Author's Note: Before anyone lunges at me, I've gotten permission from the author themselves, giving me a go signal to create an inspired piece of their original prompt. •`ヮ´• So I went ahead and did one! Credits are above, both their Tumblr link and the post they wonderfully created! Thank you once again, @missaengg! ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)

Yes, I know I've stated it a while ago, I had a sudden burst of motivation and I finished it within 3 hours and in one sitting- HAHA