#i would have added it to the original post i saw

[makingqueerhistory]

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[motziedapul]

Saw this discussion on Reddit about independent podcasts and I wanted to throw my hat into the ring!

The original post was asking if a podcast is still indie if it's part of a network, and the answer is, usually, yes. Unless they are explicitly financed by the network in production, which many network podcasts aren't.

I'll go into what our Rusty Quill Network membership means below, but these comments are generally correct:

So people must be wondering what being part of the RQ Network means if they're not financing us:

Two things:

1) We're now part of their ad revenue structure and get a percentage of ad revenue from ads run on our show and Rusty Quill site.

2) Rusty Quill will market us to their audience, which gives us access to a bigger audience than we had.

You'll notice that neither of those mean Rusty Quill pays us, because they don't *pay* us per se. It's a revenue sharing system.

Would you like to know how much we earn from ads?

$400~ CAD (approximately $280~ USD) every two months in our BEST MONTHS.

More accurately, we only started getting those numbers in July after we were advertised on the Magnus Protocol. Before that we got $300~ CAD after 4 months.

Other than that, we finance through Patreon with $400 CAD/month from our amazing Patrons-but you'll notice even that isn't a living.

(Though it very much does cover groceries, which I'm grateful for)

This is why we ultimately have to run fundraisers every so often. I'd run less if I was employed, which I'm trying very hard to be, but in the meantime if people want to see more of Hi Nay this is our only recourse.

That's why we're indie even if we're part of a network. That's why your favorite podcasts are indie even if they're still part of a network. Rusty Quill has done so much for us including connecting us to some amazing podcasters in the space and giving us opportunities we never would have had before, but they don't pay us for making our podcast. They just share the ad revenue and help market us.

And that's why I can't continue Hi Nay on $400-$800 Canadian every month when my rent is $1300 Canadian ($920 US) a month. Especially when I've been out of work for 1+ year.

[eowynstwin]

So, Ikea and Bunny. I need to talk about them too, though no one has explicitly asked about them.

The truth is, I am still so fucking angry at those two. There is not a kind thought in me for either of them. Either my worst suspicions are true, and they conducted the whole affair from behind the scenes, or they were willfully stupid enough to swallow Myka’s story for the sake of their own blog engagement. Because I sure never heard of either of them before this happened.

Those two were needlessly and joyfully cruel to me. They languished in attacking my character, my maturity, my intelligence, the way I phrased things, or that I did not say what they thought I ought to. They called me a sociopath. Ad verbatim they said my brain "doesn't fucking work right."*

I have been VERY open for a while now about being autistic. I certainly already had it in my blog description by the time they came after me.

They went on to accuse me of poor reading comprehension, bullying, and abuse. They accused me of setting my followers on Myka. When I referenced one separate occasion in which I had a public disagreement with another blogger earlier this year, they spun that reference out into a HISTORY of influencing my followers to go after others I didn't like. (There was no request for clarification on my part before they took that and ran with it.)

Bunny even went as far as to explain what Myka's original post meant, the way a third grade teacher might, to prove her point about my lack of reading comprehension.** Bunny, just call me a fucking retard and be done with it.

Then, as people began to point out that they were in fact doing the same thing they accused me of doing, they had the audacity to remind everyone not to harass me. So it's okay when you forget about that, girlies, but guillotine for me because I forgot?

When the truth finally came out, they backpedaled REAL quick. I even got some apologies in my inbox.

Genuinely. From the bottom of my heart. Absolutely fuck the both of you. I didn't have you blocked until I left. In fact, the both of you FOLLOWED ME. You never ONCE tried to talk to me first anyway. You two saw your chance to tear me to pieces and you fucking took it.

Disclaimer, because I know these two people by now: this is no call to action for anyone to go after them. I doubt you could anyway, since all of their blogs have been inactive since June. (the-original-honeybun is crashtestbunny's main.)

But these two did permanent damage to my reputation within this fandom. Even if they were to delete every single post they made about me, there would still be versions of them circulating. Their blogs are still fucking UP, ostensibly for accountability, but exactly how accountable are they if they haven't actually been there to take it?

*Specifically Ikea. Scroll her blog if you need proof. The post is still up. **Also still up on her blog, crashtestbunny.

[mtvjedi]

can i complain about gladiator 2. i’m gonna!!!! here is your official spoiler warning!!!!!

i knew frankly nothing of the plot before i went to see it i ONLY saw it because of pedro pascal and paul mescal (and denzel) so in that sense it was a good movie. in all other senses it was…………. well……….. a movie. why was lucius beat for beat maximus from the original movie but written worse. birthright stolen from him, wife murdered by the roman army, forced into being a gladiator due to the whims of powerful men, eventually becomes Thee leader of the gladiators, overthrows the current emperors/government/etc. except we have the added “plot twist” of him being maximus’ son AND marcus aurelius’ grandson. double nepo baby. i say plot twist because it was obvious to probably literally everyone who knows even a tiny bit about the original movie.

it is very obvious that they cut basically everything important from the plot because nothing connects. the ONLY plot line that has any kind of follow through is denzel’s so no shock he was the best part of the movie. side note i knew once they cast him that he wasn’t going to be playing some silly goofy mentor character so him turning out to be more important wasn’t surprising but his true motivations were and, again, the only coherent plot line in the movie. he was a slave, he bought his freedom, he got rich, and he did what he had to do to get his revenge. his and paul mescal’s relationship was the most interesting one because you were a slave but now you’re buying slaves and potentially sending them to their gruesome bloody deaths in the hopes that someday one might be powerful enough to help you overthrow the emperors??? did you KNOW paul mescal was lucius when you found him or was that simply pure dumb luck???? “the dream of rome is dead” ???? great continuation of the first movie because truly like what was supposed to happen post russell crowe killing joaquin phoenix and then immediately dying. who was in charge after that. side note: why were there like. full scenes from gladiator in there as flashbacks.

pedro pascal was like. kind of exactly the character i expected him to be. but again it feels like there’s MORE that they could have done with him. i understand why he had to die and it WAS interesting to pit him against paul mescal in the arena and then have the praetorian guard actually kill him to show how the emperors were losing control of the people, enter denzel, but. idk it felt like there was something missing from his character. i was actually convinced that the guy who put young lucius on the horse and sent him away would turn around and be pedro pascal and that would’ve been like an interesting little i saved your life please show me mercy here’s how i connect to the story besides being your stepdad type thing but here we are i guess.

poor paul mescal, truly. i thought he was as good as he could be with what he was given. his whole character just felt disjointed. like, it makes sense up until he’s revealed to be lucius. captured from his home, forced to watch his wife and eventually his friend/mentor die in front of him as a direct result of the roman empire, forced into slavery, doesn’t want to kill other slaves but eventually has to because he, like denzel, has an axe to grind with rome. but then he actually gets to rome and appears to not remember anything about who he really is, his mom figures it out in 0.2 seconds, and he suddenly remembers everything? had he ever even forgotten it? if he hadn’t forgotten, what was his plan back in his city? did he really love his wife? if he had forgotten, how does he remember everything so quickly? why does he hate his mom if he was 12 when she sent him away, aka old enough to understand what was happening? like, him in the first half and him in the second half are completely different characters and there’s not much of a bridge to connect them. there’s no explanation. honestly i kinda thought the real plot twist was gonna be that he actually was just some random kid and not actually lucius. like he just Becomes this character at the end without any real growth!!! he forgets about his wife and his friend! he has the chance to kill pedro pascal but he just……… doesn’t, for whatever reason. i kinda thought he was gonna die at the end because there had been so many little flashback moments to his wife crossing into the afterlife like russell crowe walking in the field to his wife and kid but i was gonna be really pissed if he died because then it’s just like exactly the same as the first movie where like who’s gonna lead??? you’re gonna be in the exact same spot in 20 years again!!!!!

idk it was just so long but nothing like. happened. it’s like a half baked gladiator remake but there’s so much CONTENT missing. overall, cheesy, the “dream of rome is dead, but we can rebuild it for all of us” or whatever thing was a little heavy handed, 10/10 for denzel washington, fun to watch if you don’t wanna think about the plot, pedro pascal and paul mescal as beautiful as expected.

[mishy-mashy]

I said this in a whole reblog, but just copy-pasting to a separate post because I think it'll give some reading comprehension and reblogs don't show up in the search feature.. again, I'm reiterating what I said in another post.

Go check out @demidokuriya 's post for this; OP's post made me put this all down in like. 20 minutes. Mind went vroom vroom cuz HEY THEY'RE ONTO SOMETHING.

(They also reblogged the post with some hint to some behind the scenes of what led to the ideas if you wanna check that out)

Look below at how, when Mineta told AFO to spare Tokoyami, AFO specifically went "..."

He remembers Jirou and thinks, The braying howls of the weak...

He was going to take Tokoyami's Quirk. He took Hawks'. But after Mineta pleaded with him, AFO just straight-up left and didn't take anyone else's Quirk.

AFO saw Yoichi in Mineta.

These scenes are near-identical to each other.

Mineta and Yoichi (at that time) are both much smaller than the normal person at their age

They're both hurt, yet dragged themselves up from the ground to throw something at AFO, to get his attention and make their voice

Both are considered weak, even if they have a Quirk (Mineta's Pop-Off and Yoichi's undeveloped Factor)

The fact that Yoichi got AFO's attention here by throwing a can at him, while Mineta got his attention by throwing a Pop-Off ball; and it stuck.

Mineta's call for his attention landed and actually stuck to AFO. This is unlike when Yoichi and his can bounced off, and AFO kicked him, not listening to him; AFO listened to Mineta and left Tokoyami alone, technically doing what Mineta wanted—to not hurt this person.

AFO just went on to hurt more people away from Mineta's [Yoichi's] eyes so the small weakling wouldn't see.

Yoichi and Mineta both cried to AFO to not hurt in his ways, when AFO was intent on stealing people's Quirks

AFO even stole Hawks' Quirk during this time.

He had time to steal Hawks' Quirk, and though he could've tossed him to the side, he let Hawks stand in his way.

He had the energy. Right after this event, he flew off and left the scene. But he didn't go for Tokoyami immediately.

And this let Mineta play his part, and remind AFO of Yoichi.

"A putrid, festering Quirk Factor."

That sounds like Yoichi, AFO.

".. such garbage."

Hey hey hey, what did Yoichi throw at him when they were kids?

A discarded can. Garbage.

This chapter (385) where AFO listens to Mineta is literally called [A Youthful Urge].

Mineta told AFO to take his Pop-Off (hurt him) instead. But last time, AFO hurt Yoichi by kicking him; this time, AFO not only listened to Mineta to not hurt Tokoyami, but didn't touch Mineta at all.

Even though this time, Mineta [Yoichi] offered to take that place of suffering.

Yoichi didn't do that back then. AFO just turned on little Yoichi anyway.

Yoichi through his whole existence is literally [the braying howls of the weak]. AFO acknowledges he's weak and idealistic, yet he still loves him.

Side note about this panel, I think it's interesting that in this vision, this was the first time we saw Yoichi's eyes: when he was being defiant, despite being pushed down by someone much stronger than him.

Really characteristic of him, honestly. Yoichi's soft-spoken and frail, but it's always reiterated that Yoichi had a powerful will against his stronger big brother.

Mineta at this moment reminded him too much of Yoichi, because the two scenes are near-identical to each other. Parallels, really.

Reiterating something from OP's post that I reblogged this from;

"The reminder of his brother made him uncomfortable, so he hurried away."

AFO didn't want to hurt Yoichi again.

[transmasc-tabris]

Anyway reuploading this thing because I still think it's funny. Hopefully the skin tones are unfucked this time, or at least less fucked.

Second (worse? dumber?) version under cut

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

.

[lilac-set]

Good post but part of it rubbed me the wrong way so i wanna clarify one thing

Its still worth it if it is worth it to you, and youre very brave for doing what you know is best for you despite all the hardship

Its also ok and youre still worth it even if all the pain of healing isnt worth it to you, and youre very brave for doing what you know is best for you despite all the hardship

Its ok and you deserve support no matter what path you choose to take. Youre worth it

[erinwantstowrite]

Halloween AU!!!

hey so. i put SOOOOO much effort into this au and for what? at least it ended up looking cool? anyways Halloween is my favorite holiday and i just HAD to make something for them!

i had a LOT of ideas for what everyone would be, but i really wanted to stick to a certain theme cause it's based around Halloween. i knew i had to have a vampire, werewolf, and a witch. cause like... obviously. iconic Halloween stuff!! but i took some liberties with everyone else and i think they turned out pretty cool!!

Jason was originally a fox shifter (which i still love and might draw art for some day) but i went with a bear in the end. is that because i thought about tiny bear cub Jaybin and wanted to cry? yeah. yeah it is. i KNEW Steph was going to be my werewolf though i started doubting myself when i went to draw her. turned out to be my favorite drawing on here which makes sense cause she is my light my love my daughter my will to live and all that jazz

Tim was actually gonna be a harpy but thank god i didn't go for that in the end. Duke was the one that was a bitch and a half trying to figure out BUT!! comments on the post asking what y'all thought led me towards Psychic so THANK YOUUUU everybody that commented!! (specifically those who thought of ghost!! Duke and Tim ended up being a perfect duo in this au)

Babs was pretty easy to figure out what I wanted for her. I read somewhere that they are seen as protectors of forests/ are considered spiritual authority figures and also.... she looks cool as fuck. Did not expect how easy it was to find a ref for a deer in a wheelchair though? I can never find the right hand or face angle reference but that was super easy???

For Bruce there was literally no question he HAD to be human. it's literally so funny that everyone who knows Batman thinks he's a spooky vampire but he's human. his first son, however?????? THAT'S the vampire. I knew Dick had to be a vampire too. A little nod towards that one comic run but in my au nothing bad happens ever 🥰 Damian also being a bat shifter is very on purpose because how funny is it that he's a bat man. Literally not a single person in the League thinks that Bruce is telling the truth about being human. Bruce you are NOT beating the secretly a vampire allegations.

adding in Jay's hilarious joke it's so fucking funny:

Alfred is actually a demon. I CAN NOT remember who made this post so if someone can help me find it, it would be appreciated!! because this was inspired by them!!! but somewhere i saw someone talk about Alfred being a demon that Thomas and Martha made a deal with (i think it was for an au idea?) and I just HAD to put it here. Alfred looks so human and everyone expects it, but he's definitely not. I put the ??? because it's so fucking funny. see if you can spot the 1 hint i put on his drawing that something is amiss!!

Peter is from an alternate dimension still, but it is not a world of creatures like him, it's just the same as LoF canon except Peter grew some extra limbs and eyes. He finds that it's actually pretty easy to fit in with the Waynes. Hard to feel like a freak when a guy can turn into a fucking bear, or your dad is a vampire, and the teenagers in the family are trying to summon ghosts or make potions.

additional doodles for this au:

i am still debating whether i am going to draw something for this au or write a oneshot, but i DO want to do something with these for Halloween

[saintobio]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different. 

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her. 

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life? 

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.” 

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added. 

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now. 

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?” 

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.” 

“Well.. what is the HIS?” 

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.” 

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.” 

“Roger that, boss!” 

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

~~

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences. 

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission. 

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense. 

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for. 

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things? 

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him. 

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away. 

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer. 

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.” 

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.” 

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice. 

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

~~

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.” 

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed. 

She’s a traitor.

Punish her. 

Hurt her. 

Devour her. 

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you. 

“I betrayed you because of her!” 

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her. 

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said. 

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved. 

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.” 

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head. 

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor. 

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake. 

No… no! 

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever. 

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.” 

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

~~

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

~~

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another. 

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either. 

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first. 

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.” 

~~

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind. 

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life. 

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure. 

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!” 

“Boss, let’s go!” 

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about. 

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital? 

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter. 

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer. 

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.” 

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you. 

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life. 

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

~~

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café. 

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you. 

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute. 

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?” 

“Caw! Caw!” 

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

~~

And then, that day happened. 

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with. 

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.” 

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman. 

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you. 

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of. 

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment. 

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?” 

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.” 

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.” 

~~

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional. 

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso. 

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look. 

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.” 

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love. 

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.” 

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”. 

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.” 

Like me. 

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.” 

“...Sleep tight, kitten.” 

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

~~

However, that same night was a different story. 

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness. 

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again. 

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

~~

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?” 

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him. 

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face. 

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

~~

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too. 

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone. 

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up. 

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body. 

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.” 

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?” 

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night. 

Do you even recognize it? 

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…” 

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.” 

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.” 

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would. 

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

PREVIOUS PART

[bluesidez]

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane. 

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway. 

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up. 

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself. 

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head. 

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying. 

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door. 

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband. 

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display. 

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button. 

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming. 

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island. 

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips. 

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response. 

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest. 

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined. 

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips. 

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting. 

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment. 

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you. 

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading. 

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back. 

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection. 

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you. 

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it. 

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama. 

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom. 

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early. 

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door. 

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself. 

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did. 

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues. 

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek. 

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.” 

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time. 

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven. 

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet. 

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly. 

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.  

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10. 

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit. 

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure. 

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone. 

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away. 

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.  

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner. 

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight. 

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths. 

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms. 

You couldn’t ask for anything better. 

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think. 

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it. 

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good. 

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much. 

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped. 

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn. 

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you. 

You’re starting to think the worst. 

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working. 

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time. 

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with. 

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had. 

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house. 

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom. 

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.  

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand. 

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat. 

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry. 

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp. 

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back. 

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.” 

So much for communication. 

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides. 

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout. 

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight. 

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length. 

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers. 

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep. 

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length. 

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. ���I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face. 

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better. 

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him. 

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls. 

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically. 

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time. 

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it. 

It was all too much. 

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message. 

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper. 

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you. 

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[obsessedwithceleste]

Lessons in Love

(Or why Enzo should be banned from advanced potion making)

Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw Reader

Summary: Ft. Enzo being bad at potions, the Ravenclaw common room door, and more than one accidental love confession.

word count: 3.3k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you walk purposefully through the empty halls of the castle. You loved Enzo. Really, you did. But how that bastard had managed to squeeze enough O.W.Ls out of his arse to get into advanced potion making was absolutely beyond you.

It’s not that you thought your childhood best friend was dumb per se. You simply thought his talents lay elsewhere. Like in herbology. Or anywhere really where adding a pinch too much powdered moonstone didn’t result in a glittery pink potion exploding all over the front of your robes. This never would have happened of course, if your usual, equally talented, potions partner, Theodore Nott, had actually bothered to show up, but god only knew where that boy had wandered off to.

Walking into classes earlier that day you had been giddy with excitement. While potions may not have been Enzo’s forte, it was most definitely yours and advanced potions was finally giving you the challenge you had been craving. Amortentia, your professor had said, is the strongest love potion in the world, thereby making it exceptionally difficult to brew. You already knew this of course as it had all been detailed in the days readings. Not only would it make someone obsessively in love, but it also had an addictive scent, changing to fit what one was most attracted to. Now that was all well and good until one was covered in it.

Originally, you figured that all would be fine. Enzo profusely apologized, quickly following up with a joke about how “at least you’ll smell nice for once.” But oh how right he’d been. It started with students accidentally bumping into you in the corridor as you went from class to class as they subconsciously leaned in to follow the alluring scent. A minor inconvenience you thought. (Although you did have to choose to ignore that third year almost getting impaled on a statue’s sword because he wasn’t paying attention after you passed.)

But then Cho and Marietta couldn’t stop leaning in to get a whiff of the scent all throughout the start of charms, causing Flitwick to continuously shoot concerned glances at the three of you. You eventually caved, moving quickly and silently to the back of the class room where Enzo was sat with the rest of the Slytherins. As soon as he saw you making your way over, he leaned over, whispering something in Daphne’s ear beside him. She gives you a quick look of knowing pity before moving into the empty seats usually claimed by Theodore and Matteo who were, unsurprisingly, still no where to be found.

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” Enzo mumbles, at least having the decency to look embarrassed as you plop into the seat beside him.

“This is horrible! I did not need to know that Marietta’s amortentia smells like bloody Cormac McLaggen or whatever his name is,” you hiss in response.

Enzo lets out a quiet chuckle, sneaking a quick glance at your house mate.

“Hey,” he whispers after a moment, “What do you smell anyway? You must be going mad having that stuff all over you.”

You shoot a glare at your friend. You had a sinking feeling he already knew, considering he had been poking fun at you for weeks. You shudder remembering all those disgusting kissy faces Enzo had been making at you from across the library just last week. Bloody bastard was fishing for confirmation. Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll simply go away you think to yourself. Enzo however, takes your silence as an admission of guilt, a grin spreading across his face.

“I knew it. So tell me y/n, what does dear Theodore Nott smell like? Cigarette smoke? Hippogriff dung?” He snickers.

“He is my best friend, Lorenzo,” you whisper, giving the boy beside you another withering glare.

Enzo’s face falls at this.

“I’m your best friend.” He grumbles.

“I don’t know why. You’re mean to me,” you reply with exasperation.

He immediately perks up again at this, giving you a slight nudge.

“So I’m right? You do like Theo?” He asks excitedly.

“Enzo, I will avada you, and make it look like an accident,” you hiss in response.

“Come on, y/n, I’m your best friend, you have to tell me these things,” he pouts.

“Oh really? Like how you have to tell me about how you’re probably smelling Daphne’s shampoo right now? Or is it her lavender perfume?” You ask innocently, batting your lashes.

Enzo goes beet red at this, gesturing wildly at you to lower your voice.

“Hush woman! She’s right there!” He hisses.

You say nothing, only giving him a triumphant grin before turning back to Flitwick to try to salvage what few notes you’d been able to take down that lesson.

The final straw occurred during ancient runes when poor, unsuspecting Hermione sat down behind you and asked with a look of bewilderment if you had been showered with Draco’s cologne that morning. Her look of absolute horror only grew as you told her of your distressing situation. You thought she might faint when she realized that Draco had been within earshot and now had a shit eating grin on his face. With a sigh of defeat, you give Hermione an apologetic smile before deciding it was time to turn in the white flag of defeat.

You breathe a heavy sigh of relief as you finally come to a stop outside your common room door. You then frown, realizing you had in fact, made it to your common room door.

“What makes a raven like a writing desk?” The metallic voice of the Ravenclaw common room door asks, springing to life.

This putrid, skanky little-

“You wouldn’t want me to shove either of them up your ars-“

A low whistle catches your attention before you’re able to finish cursing out your common room’s door thoroughly.

“Whoa there feisty, let the eagle be,” Theo’s voice laughs as he steps into view.

The strong scent of roasted coffee beans and smoke that had been burning your nostrils all day hits you once again like a ton of bricks. Giving the eagle another withering glare, you turn your full attention to the looming threat approaching. You would sooner throw yourself off of the astronomy tower than let Theo know that your amortentia smelled like him. Someone had to keep the boy’s bloody ego in check.

“Full offense Theodore, I’ve had a horrendously awful day today, and I really don’t have time for whatever nonsense you’re about to start.” You say with a roll of your eyes as you cross your arms at the boy in front of you.

Theo laughs again, mirroring your movements as he leans against one of the pillars lining the halls.

“Poor principessa. Have a hard day in classes without me?” He asks with a smirk.

You scowl in response. It didn’t help that you had, in fact, missed the brunette’s comforting, albeit annoying, presence all day, but you weren’t about to admit that.

“Now that you mention it, I didn’t even realize you were missing. What snake hole did you slither off to today?” You ask, the lie sliding easily off your lips.

Theo cocks as eyebrow at that but leaves it be.

“Matteo wanted to ditch, had to baby sit. Make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble. You know how it goes,” Theo replied shrugging his shoulders. “And what’s a pretty little witch like yourself doing skiving off class?”

Theo takes another step forward.

“Don’t come closer!” You yelp before you can stop yourself. You had no interest knowing what Theo would smell if he got close enough. He frowns at you however.

“And why not?” He challenges, taking another step towards you. This boy really did not take well to being told what to do.

“I- I smell. Really bad. Had to leave class, I just- ya know, smelled, so bad” You splutter, mentally kicking yourself. Who says that in front of the guy they like? Why were you like this?

Theo’s thick brows shoot up at your declaration before he takes a final large step towards you and leans in, pressing his hand against your forehead before moving it down to feel your cheek.

“Y/n are you ill? Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey? I can walk you there if you’d like.” He says, any bit of snark his voice previously held long gone.

“I’m fine Theodore, really.” you say, batting his hand away.

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking at you disbelievingly.

He leans in again and takes in a whiff of your scent and you immediately tense, freezing where you are. God damn it. His brows furrow.

“Y/n, you smell perfectly normal, maybe a bit stronger than usual, but definitely not bad.” He says, looking even more confused.

Before you’re able to fully process the words that just came out of Theo’s mouth, Enzo and Pansy come barreling down the hall towards the two of you in a fit of giggles.

“Y/n! y/n, you know I’m sorry, really I am, but if dousing you in amortentia is all it takes to get Draco and Granger to make complete fools of themselves in front of each other, I’d do it again!” Enzo exclaims between breathy laughs. “You haven’t seen ferret boy run past, by chance, by the way have you?

“Sorry, amor-what now?” Theo asks, blinking as he purses his lips.

You look between the three of your friends in alarm, praying no one mentioned anything after Theo had just announced that you smelled perfectly normal to him.

“Oh, you’re going to wish you were there! After you left, Draco was so pleased with himself. Looked like a kid on Christmas. Kept trying to flirt with Hermione until she finally sent a flock of doves to run him out of the classroom! Professor wasn’t too happy bout that one. Let us go early to find the blonde loon,” Enzo says, completely ignoring Theo’s question.

“I’m sorry, amor-WHAT?” Theo asks again, louder this time.

You feel yourself cringe.

“Amortentia.” Pansy snorts. “Do try and keep up Teddy.”

“This is what you get for always skiving off class with Matteo,” Enzo adds, nodding at the boy as if he were his disappointed mother.

“Mhmm. Enzo totally floozied over y/n’s potion this morning. Blew it up all over her and she’s been having people wander up to her to take a sniff all day.” Pansy tells him with a sniff.

Theo blinks again before slowly meeting your eyes as what he said only moments earlier begins to sink in. Pansy, ever the cunning witch, was lightening quick to catch on.

“Speaking of which, I am suddenly so interested in what exactly it is that you smell, dearest Teddy,” Pansy says as her eyes flicker between the two of you, a mischievous grin growing on her face.

Theo scowls at the nickname.

“Campfire.”

“Old parchment.” You say in unison.

Pansy smirks.

“Do you smell that Enzo?” She asks, making a show of sniffing the air around her. “I think I smell- a liar. Or two.”

Enzo only snickers as he eyes the both of you up. He knew exactly what you had been smelling all day and you begin to feel panic rise up in your chest. You send a menacing glare his way, daring him to open his mouth.

“Come on Pans, I don’t think Draco and Granger are the only ones who’ll be chatting up tonight,” he says finally.

Glaring at the pair’s disappearing backs, you once again turn slowly back to the problem at hand.

“Soo,” Theo starts at the same time you blurt out,

“This is entirely your fault.”

Theo’s mouth drops open, and he has the audacity to look offended.

“How do you figure mi amore?” He asks.

“You’re supposed to be my partner in potions, but you weren’t there today, so I had to work with,” you shudder, “Enzo.”

Rolling his eyes at your dramatics and giving you a small smile, Theo lets himself relax, leaning on the wall as he towers over you.

“Enzo isn’t so bad,” he says, slowly bringing a hand up to rest on your waist, gently moving you towards him. You pretend not to notice, taking a small, nervous step forward.

“He singed off Matteo’s eyebrows last year. The year before that, he didn’t realize there was a difference between fire flower and fired flour, and his potion melted through the floor. I heard a Puff call him Slytherin’s Seamus,” you retort. “Do you realize how bad you have to be at something to get made fun of by a Hufflepuff?” He snorts at that, cocking his head in agreement.

“Well I’m sorry alright? I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’ll have to. I have to go in again to remake the potion. Don’t want that bad mark on my grade.”

Theo only hums at this, as you’re finally standing nose to chest with him, forcing you to tilt your head up to still see his face.

“You really do smell nice,” he murmurs, pressing his nose lightly into your hair.

You make a face before nuzzling into his chest to hide the redness growing on your cheeks.

“I’m not talking about this in public. I simply refuse,” you say, trying to melt into him from pure embarrassment.

Theo looks down at you with a devilishly handsome grin before turning back to your long forgotten common room door.

“Hey, open up. She technically answered your little riddle earlier,” he tells the door.

The eagle grumbles something unintelligible as it starts to life again.

“I can always melt you down. I’m sure you’d make a great piss pot,” Theo threatens, going to pull out his wand.

The door swings open rather violently and you’re pretty sure you can hear a rather colorful string of curses come out of the eagle’s beak as you make your way inside. Having been there a thousand times before, Theo easily leads you to your shared, but thankfully empty, dorm room, closing the door behind you.

“You really don’t get along with that eagle, do you principessa?” He asks, throwing his shoes off and making himself comfortable on your bed like he usually did.

“Like you’re any better. You just threatened to turn it into a chamber pot,” you retort, falling easily back into your usual banter. This was fine. This was safe.

Theo only raises a brow at you.

“The blasted door is still mad at me for making a ur mum joke when it asked me if a chicken came before the egg in front of a bunch of second years.” You admit, letting your arms fall to your side.

Theo lets out a loud laugh at that shaking his head and extending his arm for you. You walk carefully towards the bed before hesitantly accepting his invitation. It’s not that cuddling with Theo was something unfamiliar to you, as much as you were hyper aware of the slightly awkward tension between the two of you that wasn’t usually there. You slide your shoes off as well before curling up next to him and laying your head on his chest. The two of you lay in silence and you slowly let your eyelids flutter shut, lost in the feeling of Theo’s chest rising and falling.

“You know. You still haven’t told me what your amortentia smells like,” Theo says, finally breaking the silence as he gently brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

“Take a wild fucking guess,” you murmur, refusing to open your eyes and determined to get further lost in his warm touch.

He only hums in response, continuing to comb his fingers through the soft locks of hair.

“You know when Enzo asked me if I smelled you today, he thought you’d smell like hippogriff dung,” you say eventually.

“Fucking tosser. What did that git smell? Wild lavender?”

“And Daphne’s shampoo.”

You feel Theo snort as if he expected no less of your ever romantic best friend. Silence once again rolls over the both of you as you absentmindedly play with the edge of his shirt, rolling the soft fabric between your fingers nervously. The quiet begins to feel suffocating, so you open your mouth to speak, but Theo beats you to it.

“Champagne. And that perfume you always use. With the little white flowers. Lilies of the valley, right?” Theo says.

You open your eyes to look at him in confusion.

“That’s what you smell like.” He says, carefully running his hand down your spine, sending a shiver through you.

“I smell roasted coffee. And smoke. Not the fire-y kind though. The kind that sticks to your clothes cause you refuse to quit smoking.” You respond, looking into his eyes warily for his reaction.

Theo only smirks in response, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

“Aw mi amore, I’m what you’re most attracted to?” He asks, the teasing bait evident in his voice.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as Theo gazed intently down at you in his arms.

“Shut up Theodore. You sure know how to ruin a moment,” you say, once again burying your face in a chest.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter before his hand snakes it way up to your chin, tilting your head up and capturing your lips with his. His lips are softer than you imagined as he moves them gently against yours. You let a soft gasp escape and Theo pulls you closer, gripping your waste tightly, and shifting you on top of him, deepening the kiss until you’re both left gasping for air.

“Was that more of what you had in mind amore?” He asks with an innocent smile, looking up at you with what you could only describe as his best baby seal eyes.

“I mean, you were definitely significantly more shirtless when I imagined it, but I can settle.” You joke.

Theo’s eyes darken however, and he lifts you as if you weigh nothing, flipping you over so that he now hovered above you, your back pinned against the bed beneath you. With one swift movement, Theo pulls his shirt up and over his head before lowering himself back down, his chest now pressed against yours.

“Better?”

You can’t help but laugh at the boy’s determination as your eyes shamelessly take in the lean muscle and tanned skin that was current above you.

“Theodore, as much as I enjoy this, you have to put your clothes on. Cho or Marietta could walk in at any time,” you tell him as you begin to make soft circles across his waist line with your thumbs, admiring the boy in front of you.

“Mm. You mouth is saying one thing, but these,” he says, placing his hands over yours, “are saying something else entirely.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your hands out from under his and handing him his discarded shirt.

“One kiss?” He asks, looking at the shirt as if it had mortally offended him.

“One kiss.”

He leans down, once again capturing your lips with his, but with more intensity this time. You feel one of his hands brush your waist as his thumb pushes up under your shirt, the rest of his hand following soon after, gripping tightly at the warm skin beneath. You let out a breathy moan when he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip, and he takes it as an invitation to let his tongue explore the rest of your mouth.

An awkward cough shakes you from the haze and you look up, over Theo’s shoulder to see Cho standing guiltily in the doorway.

“Sorry,” she says, looking literally anywhere but you and the shirtless boy above you. “Bad time?”

You cover your eyes in embarrassment, feeling heat once again rush to your cheeks.

“What did I tell you!” You groan, letting your head fall back onto your mound of pillows. Meanwhile Theo has a much too self satisfied grin across his face.

[lemoncrushh]

Filthy Cute

Summary: You and Harry are in a secret relationship, and you get a little jealous when you think he’s flirting with your friend.

Warnings: age gap, forbidden relationship, smut, spanking, possessiveness, oral sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, breeding kink. 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 6918

Author's Notes: This is a little bit of a twist on the older!harry trope. This is lhh but he’s older and he’s not a CEO or super rich, but a musician who’s already had his moment in the spotlight. While there are no specific ages given, y/n is still living with her parents after college, and Harry is somewhere in his 30s. The title is taken from a lyric of the Prince song “Cream”.

ORIGINALLY POSTED ON PATREON

“Ugh, I’m tired!” whined Piper. “How much longer do we have to be here?”

Pulling your phone out of your back pocket, you checked the time. “Just thirty minutes left.”

Piper continued to pout as she leaned against the brick wall. Since nine that morning, the two of you had been out in the blistering heat washing cars with a handful of other girls for the college dance team fundraiser. While you had already graduated, Piper was still attending and one of the stars of the team, so you agreed to help out when she asked you.

Grabbing your water bottle, you’d chugged about half of it when you heard Piper shout. “Oh my God! It’s that guy!”

“What guy?” you turned your head to see a familiar car pulling up in front of the building next to the car wash.

“That guy that lives down your street. That rockstar guy.”

You almost choked when you saw the long-haired man climb out of the black car. Harry. Your boyfriend. Well…sort of boyfriend. The two of you had secretly been seeing each other for the last three months. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your friends because the relationship was pretty taboo to say the least. He was quite a bit older than you, and with you still living at home, just barely out of school, you knew your parents wouldn’t approve. You’d both agreed to keep it secret for the time being, and to be honest, you found it even more thrilling because of it.

“He must be getting some froyo,” Piper commented as you watched Harry open the door to the yogurt shop. “Nice car, too. I wonder if he needs a wash.”

As though he heard her, Harry pulled his sunglasses off his eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of the both of you. Piper bravely waved at him, and you saw his lips curl up, his dimples dipping in his cheeks. Your stomach flipped when you noticed him release the door from his hand and set his shades on his head, holding back his long hair like a headband. Then in long strides, he walked toward you.

“Hi ladies,” he greeted.

“Hi,” Piper tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “Need a car wash?”

“Maybe,” Harry chuckled. “What’s it for?”

“We’re trying to raise money for the State University Dance Team.”

“The university has a dance team?” Harry raised a brow. His gaze shifted to you, though you weren’t the one speaking. You simply smiled at him as his eyes silently said what your insides did.

“Of course!” Piper giggled. “I’m the captain!”

“Oh!” Harry returned his attention to her, giving her a salute. “Well then, Captain, where shall I park my boat?”

You watched your friend turn bright red as she tried her best not to laugh too loudly. “Over there in that spot would be great,” she pointed.

“Right then. I’ll be right back,” Harry winked which only added to Piper’s giggles.

You caught the gleam in Harry’s eyes before he turned toward his car, unlocking it with the key fob. Then rolling your own eyes, you grabbed your bucket and brought it to the hose to fill it.

“He’s really hot up close,” remarked Piper as she stood next to you. You felt your skin prickle. Of course he was. You knew this firsthand. But you weren’t about to tell her that. “Isn’t he like forty or something?”

A laugh burst from your throat then, unavoidably. “No. He’s…in his thirties…I think.”

“Whatever,” Piper shrugged. “He looks good.”

As Harry pulled up the drive and into the spot Piper had indicated, you quickly grabbed your sponge and got to washing his car, before he even got out.

“Woah, quick little thing, you are,” he said when you saw his boot hit the pavement next to you.

“Y/N, that’s rude!” Piper hissed just as Harry shut his door. “Sorry about that, Mr…”

“Styles. But please, call me Harry,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Alright, Harry,” your friend beamed, shaking his hand. “I’m Piper.”

“Lovely to meet you, Piper. And you’re…Y/N?” he pointed at you.

You rolled your eyes again at his blatant attempt to pretend he didn’t know you. You supposed it was for the best, but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed. At what exactly, you weren’t sure.

“Yes,” you nodded, scrubbing his rear fender.

“And you’re both on the dance team?” Harry gestured.

“No, Y/N’s not,” said Piper as she bent over to wet her sponge in her bucket. “Just me…and the rest of my team there. Y/N’s already graduated, but she’s my bestie so she was sweet enough to volunteer.”

“That was very kind of you.” You looked up to see a sincere expression on his face. You smiled, earning one back from him.

“Well this will take a little while, Mr. Sty- I mean, Harry,” Piper blushed. “We have waters and sodas over there in that cooler if you want anything to drink while you wait.”

“Actually, I was thinking of grabbing something next door.”

“Oh,” Piper nodded. “Perfect.”

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Harry waved, giving you what seemed like an extra long stare before turning for the yogurt shop.

“Hey, is this the last car of the day?” another one of the girls, Ana, called out as she walked toward you. The SUV she and two other girls had been washing pulled out of the parking lot, looking shiny and new.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said. “Wanna give us a hand?”

“Of course, the sooner we can get out of here, the better! I’m starved!”

Ana waved over the other girls, and before you knew it, the teamwork had paid off and Harry’s car was sparkling.

“Thanks so much, guys,” you said. “I appreciate your help.”

“Yeah, good job ladies!” cheered Piper, giving the other three high fives. “You can go if you want. We’ll wait here for our payment and we’ll clean up the buckets and stuff.”

The rest of the team thanked you for participating, giving you hugs. You all giggled when your wet shirts wanted to cling together.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Piper with a grin. “Do you think Mr. Styles will be pleased?”

You stood back to admire your work. “Yeah, I think-”

“I think he’ll be very pleased,” you heard a voice say.

Lifting your eyes, you saw Harry walking up the drive, a froyo cup in each hand, a grin on his handsome face.

“Excellent job, ladies,” he said, stepping closer to you and Piper. “I reckon you’ve earned a treat.”

You nearly choked at his words, suddenly in a fit of coughs. That was one of his phrases he used with you in bed when you’d “been a good girl” as he put it. Piper eyed you with wide eyes of her own, urging you to stop coughing until you reached for a water from the table.

“You alright, Y/N?” asked Harry. “Was it something I said?”

After guzzling half the bottle, you looked at him with narrowed eyes and a set jaw. He smirked, knowing full well what he was doing before turning back to Piper.

“Anyway, I do intend to pay, don’t worry,” he chuckled holding out a cup of vanilla with sprinkles. “Just wanted to give you two a little extra for your hard work.”

“Wow, thanks Mr. Styles,” beamed Piper as she took the yogurt from him.

“Harry, please,” he insisted.

“Harry…” she smiled wide.

You didn’t miss the way she shifted her weight onto her right hip and tilted her head at him. You also didn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes landed on her wet t-shirt, the damp material clinging to her chest and revealing the outline of her bra. Then spooning a bit of the froyo, Piper stuck out her tongue and met the spoon with it, giving it a not-so-subtle suck.

Clearing your throat, you set down your water bottle. Harry turned to you, holding out his other hand.

“For you, love,” he said.

Your hands grazed each other as you took your cup, Harry’s pinky finger locking around yours for just a moment before he let go.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“You’re very welcome,” he said.

The chill of the frozen yogurt instantly cooled you and made you calm - that is until Harry reached for his wallet and pulled out some cash.

“Um…I suppose I give this to the captain?” he asked.

“Mmm, yes, I’ll take that, thank you!” squealed Piper, popping the spoon from her mouth and quickly taking the bills from him. Then she stopped, her jaw wide open as she gasped. “Mr. Styles! This is two twenties! The car wash is only five!”

Harry shrugged, a smug expression on his handsome face. “Consider it a contribution.”

“Wow! Thank you Mr. S-, I mean…Harry. That’s really sweet of you.”

You didn’t miss the way Piper batted her lashes at him, nor the way he responded silently with a wink. Deciding you’d had enough of this awkward little show, you set down your yogurt cup and pulled out your phone.

“Hey Piper, I’m getting an Uber now,” you announced. “We should probably finish cleaning up.”

“Oh,” she blinked, looking over at you as though she’d forgotten you were there. “Yeah, okay.”

“Wait, an Uber?” Harry glared at you, then back at your friend.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda funny for us to do a car wash when neither of us have a car of our own,” Piper chuckled. “But you know, broke college girl here. And Y/N sometimes drives her mom’s car, but she needed it today.”

Although Harry knew your vehicle situation already, you shrugged.

“Oh, well c’mon, we can’t have you spending money when I have a car right here. I’d be happy to drive you ladies home.”

“Seriously?” Piper beamed.

“Of course. I was headed home anyway. I have no other plans.”

You looked at Piper who looked at you with wide eyes. “If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes,” you pointed out. “We just have to clean up.”

“Yeah, plus we have to bring the buckets and cooler and stuff with us. Is that okay?” added Piper.

“No problem at all,” said Harry. “I’ll go ahead and load the ice chest into the boot.”

You couldn’t help but smile as your handsome boyfriend opened his trunk and lifted the heavy cooler, his muscles flexing. Just as your mind started thinking of the things you hoped he would do with those muscles later, Piper knocked your shoulder with hers, getting your attention.

“Look at him, he’s so hot and lean!” she breathed through her teeth. “I wanna climb him like a tree.”

Part of you wanted to snap at her that he was yours and not up for grabs, but you knew better. Instead, you reached for a bucket to rinse out just as he slammed the trunk shut.

“Ready when you are, ladies,” Harry announced. “I’ll get the a/c going so you won’t die of a heat stroke.”

“I think I’m already dying,” Piper fanned herself as she crouched down to scrub the other bucket.

Once the buckets and sponges were all rinsed out, you turned off the hose while Piper carried them to Harry’s car, opening the back door. You heard them laughing as you made your way to the passenger side.

“All done,” you declared when you noticed Piper had already claimed the front seat. Sliding into the back next to the buckets, you quickly buckled your seatbelt before lifting your eyes to catch Harry’s looking at you in the rearview mirror.

“Wanna put your address in the GPS there, Piper?” he directed as he pulled out of the lot.

Once Piper had done as instructed, you sat back and listened as the two of them somehow slipped into an easy, casual conversation about school and the dance team. Your friend then asked Harry if he was a musician to which he chuckled.

“I am, yeah,” he smirked.

“Ooh, I thought so. Are you like a rockstar?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that. I was in a band. We made a few records.”

“Would I know any of your songs?” Piper inquired.

“Maybe. Depends on what you listen to.”

“Do you have any you could play for us?”

You groaned, hoping to God he didn’t. Not that his music wasn’t any good. On the contrary - you thought it was remarkable. But just like Harry himself, you weren’t ready to share any part of him with anyone else just yet. He was yours alone, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Harry laughed, “Not on me, sorry.”

You caught the pout on Piper’s lips which made you grin. You quickly wiped the smile off your face though when Piper turned to look at you.

“Should I ask him to sing for us?”

Before you could reply, Harry chuckled harder, shaking his head. “I’m afraid the answer would be no, love.”

“Aww, why not?” Piper whined.

“Because…” he paused, his eyes catching yours in the rearview again. “I don’t perform on the spot.” Then he looked at Piper. “Not without my guitar, at least.”

“Bummer,” Piper sighed, sitting back in her seat. “Sorry, Y/N, looks like Mr. Styles isn’t a real rockstar after all.”

“What?” Harry snorted.

“I guess you just look like one,” Piper quipped.

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. But you noticed the dimples in his cheeks and the gleam in his eye. He was loving the attention.

Fortunately, just at that moment, the GPS directed Harry to turn right into Piper’s neighborhood. Then making a quick left, and another right, he pulled into her parents’ driveway. Opening the trunk, he quickly retrieved the cooler, setting it down on the pavement. Piper grabbed the buckets from the back seat next to you, giving you a look.

“I’ll call you later,” she mouthed.

You simply nodded. She thanked you again for helping out before shutting the door. You heard her thank Harry as he dragged the cooler up the driveway and onto the carport where he stopped and gave her a hug. You didn’t miss the way he pulled her close when she threw her arms around him. You pretended to be inspecting your nails when he returned to the car and slid in behind the wheel.

“Do you wanna get in the front seat now?” he asked you.

“No,” you replied curtly, gazing out the window.

“What? Why not?”

Sighing through your nose, you lifted your eyes. “She’s still watching,” you muttered.

“Oh,” Harry sounded, stealing a glance back at Piper. “So. You can still come sit up here beside me.”

“It’s okay,” you said.

Shifting the car into reverse, Harry stretched his arm across the back of the passenger seat, his expression berating, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Something wrong with you, Y/N?” he asked as he backed out of the driveway. Then shifting into drive, he gave a quick wave to Piper who waved back before heading down her street.

“No.”

“Y/N?” His jade eyes met yours again in the rearview mirror as he turned onto the main road. You rode in silence for a minute or two before he said your name again. “Y/N. What is it, kitten?”

You scoffed at his pet name for you, the sound of it from his lips making you even more perturbed. How dare he use it now after what he’d just so blatantly done in front of you!

“What the fuck was that?” you blurted, the jealousy that had been boiling in your gut finally making its way to your mouth.

“What was what?”

“That!”

“Wh- you’ll have to be more specific, love. What is that?”

“There are no specifics. It was the whole afternoon. Ever since you arrived! You were fucking flirting with her the entire time! Right in front of me!”

“I was not!”

“Yes you were! Don’t try to deny it, Harry! I was there. I saw it with my own eyes!”

You saw Harry’s shoulders shake as he was no doubt laughing silently at your expense. Asshole.

“Y/N, I was not flirting with your friend. If anything, she was coming on to me.”

“But you let her,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest again in defiance.

“What was I supposed to do, kitten? Tell her about us? I know that’s not what you want.”

“No,” you shook your head. “But you didn’t have to act like you enjoyed it.”

Harry chuckled, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. You scowled, knowing he did that on purpose so you couldn’t see his expression and if he was looking at you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N. I’ve told you I’m yours, that you’re the only one I care about. I can’t help it if your cute friend decided to flirt with me.”

“So, you admit you thought she was cute.”

Harry’s condescending laugh rang throughout the car as he made a left turn. “I’m not even going to respond to that, kitten. I did nothing wrong. I helped out you and your friend with her little charity thing. It was a nice thing to do. And I offered you both a ride because it’s also a nice thing to do.”

“You know, you don’t always have to be so goddamn charming,” you huffed.

“And you don’t have to be such a brat.”

Even with his shades on, you could tell he was getting angry with you. Fine, you thought. Let him. You’d been angry ever since he’d shown up.

When he turned onto your street, you noticed he didn’t slow down when he approached your house.

“You- you passed my house,” you commented.

“Not taking you home,” said Harry.

You huffed as he kept driving and only slowed when he neared his own driveway. Biting your lip, you watched him pull into the garage, put the car in park and turn off the engine. Slipping off his shades, he eyed you in the mirror before exiting the car and walking around to your side.

“Get out,” he commanded when he opened your door. When you didn’t, he held out his hand. “C’mon, kitten, don’t make Daddy angry.”

You gazed up at him then, your eyes wide. You only used the D word in the bedroom. Was he planning to take you there now? Hesitantly, you took his hand and let him help you out of the car. When he slammed the door shut, you noticed his jaw was set, his brows knitted again. Dropping your hand, he headed for the door, pushing the button to close the garage.

Once inside, he dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, and with his back to you, he opened the refrigerator to grab a beer, guzzling half of it before shutting the door. You wondered for a moment why he’d driven you to his place and made you get out of the car if he was just going to give you the silent treatment. But when he turned to face you, his expression stoic, you worried he was even angrier than you’d thought.

“You’re a brat, Y/N. You know that, yeah?”

“No, I-”

“Don’t talk back to me. You know I’m right.” Setting the beer on the counter, he walked toward you.

“I wasn’t trying to be a brat, Harry,” you argued, your emotions building up in your throat. “I didn’t like seeing you…looking at Piper…the way you look at me.”

“Are you serious, kitten?” Harry tilted his head. “There is no fucking way I was-”

“Well it seemed like it to me!” you exclaimed, your fists at your sides.

“C’mere!” Harry shouted, grabbing your arm. He led you through the living room, down the hall to his bedroom. “Do you need me to prove that I’m only looking at you?”

Sitting down on the bed, Harry wiggled his finger, beckoning you.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Bend over. Brats deserve a spanking.”

You simply stared him in disbelief, not moving an inch.

“C’mon, little girl,” he demanded. “You must be punished.”

“Harry, I-”

“Nope. Not Harry. You don’t get to call me that when you’re being a brat.”

A whimper rose from your throat. He was really planning on spanking you. To prove a point? You weren’t sure exactly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered before bending over his lap.

You felt his big hand slide up your thigh, to the edge of your denim shorts. When it reached your ass, you flinched, bracing yourself for the smack.

“You know why Daddy has to do this, don’t you, kitten?” Harry voiced as he held you down with his other arm across your back.

“Y-yes, sir,” you replied shakily.

“Why?”

“Because…I was bad.”

“Very bad. Not only were you a jealous little brat, but you talked back to me. You even shouted at me. We can’t have that.”

The first blow surprised you, a quick slap on your denim-covered rear end that made you jump. 

“I do nothing but show you how special you are to me, how valuable. I respect your wishes to keep our relationship secret. I’m not seeing anyone else. It’s just you, kitten. But you decide that’s not good enough for you. You have to find jealousy where there is none to find.”

Another spank, harder than the first one had you gripping the bedding in front of you. “I-I’m sorry, D-daddy.”

“If anyone’s jealous, it should be me,” Harry continued. “I’m jealous that I don’t get to flaunt you in public, show everyone you’re my sweet, beautiful princess. I’m jealous of everyone that gets to be with you all the time, the way I wanna be.”

Your eyes began to water when Harry spanked you again, a little lower on your bum, close to your thigh. That one stung, and was sure to leave a mark. However, the tears may have also been from hearing his confession. He’d never told you that before. You assumed he wanted the relationship secret.

You heard his breath hitch after he spanked you once more, his hand rubbing the tender flesh that he’d just heated underneath the hem of your shorts. Though you waited for another spank, you were surprised when none came, and instead, Harry’s hand continued to fondle your delicate skin. When his thumb grazed the edge of your panties, pushing the slender strip of fabric between your legs to the side, your toes instantly curled as you anticipated his next move. You felt him remove his hand for a moment, only to return with wet fingers which he swiftly used to lubricate your folds. You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips as you hiked up your hips for better friction.

But Harry was having none of that. “Shh. Be quiet,” he scolded.

Biting your lip, you remained still and silent as Harry resumed his petting. Then ever so gently, he slipped just his fingertips into your already pulsing hole. You gripped the bedspread underneath you, wishing there was a pillow or something to bite, to muffle the moans that were coming, and more that were sure to soon follow.

“This sweet little pussy is mine,” he declared, “I’ve claimed it. But you don’t seem to understand what that means.”

Sliding his wet fingers deeper into you, even wetter now from your juices, he groaned. You swallowed hard, trying your damnedest not to make a sound, but it was difficult. He always knew exactly where to touch you, how deep and with just the right amount of pressure. When he began to pump his hand faster, you clawed at his thigh underneath you, breathing hard and jagged through your nose.

“It means I’m yours too, kitten. That Daddy worships you and your sweet, tight cunt. And I don’t want anyone else’s. I wanna watch you writhe underneath me, or on top of me just like this. Because you’re Daddy’s filthy cute little kitten.”

A deep moan rose to your throat before you could stop it, escaping your lips like a bubble. You knew if he kept this up you would come soon.

But just as you thought you might explode, your stomach tight and your core clenching, Harry stopped and pulled out his fingers. You whined against the bed, the absence of his fingers cause a severe ache between your legs.

“Daddy?” you dared to whisper through a panting breath.

But Harry didn’t reply. Instead, he spanked you again, hard against your pussy. Punishment, that’s what this was. You should have known he wouldn’t let you come, not just yet. He hadn’t proven his point yet. You laid there quiet, waiting for his next move.

“On your knees,” you suddenly heard him say.

Sliding off the bed, you knelt before him on the floor, your eyes wide and pleading. Removing his boots, Harry wasted no time unbuttoning his jeans, rising from the bed to push them down. You could already see the outline of his erection through his briefs as he stood gazing down at you.

“You know what I want you to do,” he said, his eyelids already heavy, his arousal apparent.

You nodded, unsure if you were allowed to speak. But when you reached for his underwear, he grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“This is not part of the punishment, kitten,” Harry conveyed. “I just want you to show me you want only me, just like I want only you.”

You nodded again as you pulled down his briefs, his hard cock springing free in front of your face. You blinked as you felt yourself blush. Even though you’d had him in your mouth and your pussy several times now, his lovely, thick penis never failed to excite you.

Taking it in your hand, you squeezed gently, preparing to lubricate it. But again, Harry stopped you, cupping your chin to look up at him.

“Show me how much you appreciate it, baby. How much you love having it in your mouth, just like the filthy little girl you are. You can do that, can’t you, love? You can speak now.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you replied emphatically.

“You like to make me feel good don’t you?” Harry asked as you spit on the tip and began stroking him.

“Very much,” you smiled.

“Yeah…” Harry hitched a breath as you stuck out your tongue and brought his hard cock to meet it, wetting the underside. Then he dragged his fingers through your hair, urging you to take him deeper.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you sucked him, earning another gasp from him. Then bringing your free hand up, you gently held onto his hip while you gave your jaw a break, licking around his shaft in circles.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned. “You’re so good at this, kitten. Such a filthy cute girl, you are. And you love it don’t you?”

Your eyes met him as you enveloped your lips around him once again. Humming in agreement, you took him deeper, knowing he always praised you when you did.

“Yes, you love sucking on my big, hard cock, don’t you princess? Taking it so deep, so well. Fuck, you’re an angel.”

As you continued, Harry sighed, removing his shirt and letting it fall beside you. Then with a big groan, he tangled his fingers in your hair again, gently thrusting his hips. You felt your eyes water as you took him the deepest you ever had, hitting the back of your throat. You gagged for just a moment, popping off of him to swallow and do it again. Harry seemed pleased.

“That’s enough, baby,” you heard him say, his voice low and raspy. “I need to fuck that tight little cunt now.”

You gazed up at him, an easy grin on your face, your saliva sticking to the tip of his bulbous head.

“Yes, Daddy,” you nodded, happy to move on to the next step. Your pussy was throbbing, and you knew if you didn’t feel him inside you soon, you’d perish.

Stepping out if his jeans and underwear, Harry reached for you, lifting your arms to remove your shirt. Then he pulled you into a deep kiss, fucking your mouth with his tongue. You sucked on it with a moan, earning one from him as well.

“Tell me, baby,” he murmured as he unfasted your bra and hastily reached for your shorts. “Tell me how much you love my cock - how badly you need it.”

“I love it so much, Daddy,” you declared hurrying to remove your shoes. “It’s so big. And you fuck me so good.”

“Do you think about it when you’re not with me?” Harry asked.

“All the time,” you nodded, gasping when his finger slipped inside your panties. “Please, Daddy…I need it. I need it all the time…”

“‘s that why you’re always wet like this?” he smirked, his calloused fingertip rubbing sensually against your clit. “Always ready for me, hmm?”

“Yes.”

“That makes me feel good, kitten. I like knowing you’re thinking about me.”

“Only you, Daddy.”

In once swift movement, Harry grabbed you and lifted you up and around to the bed. Laying you down, he pulled down your already soaking panties, tossing them next to your shoes.

You stared at him as he hovered over you, his hard cock knocking against your stomach. You started to slide your hands up his arms until he stopped you with one hand. You frowned, worried that his punishment was not over after all.

“You can touch me later, princess,” he informed you, pinning down your wrists. “Right now you’re just going to take my cock, every bit of it. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you blinked.

“Tell me how it feels. I wanna hear it from your filthy little mouth. But do not come until I say you can. Alright?”

You let out a small whimper before nodding. “Yes, sir.”

Before he even entered you, you knew his request was going to be difficult. Sex with Harry was nothing if not incredible. He always made you come, and sometimes with multiple orgasms. Why he even doubted how much you enjoyed it and thought about it when he wasn’t around was surprising to you. You felt like it was completely obvious, regardless of your words of praise. But if that’s what he wanted now, you were more than happy to oblige. It was just going to be so hard not to come. And you realized it tenfold as soon as you felt his big, hard cock enter you slowly.

“Mmm, Daddy…” you purred.

“Yes, kitten,” Harry chuckled low. Peppering kisses along your neck and jaw, he bucked his hips, hitting the magic spot.

“You’re so big,” you gasped. “Fuck, you fill me completely.”

“Yeah…you like that, don’t you baby. You like that stretch.”

“Mmhm,” you sounded as he began to thrust. “Oh God, I missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah, you want it everyday, baby?”

“Yessss…” you cried when he hit that spot again, making your toes curl.

“Mmmm, that can be arranged. Just gotta say the word.”

You threw your head back as Harry pumped harder, wanting desperately to claw his back but he still had your wrists held down. Panting between each thrust, you knew you could come soon, but Harry wouldn’t allow it. Not yet. But you were so close already.

“Ohhh, Daddy!” you cried. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

Harry growled, finally releasing your wrists to slip his hands underneath you, lifting your hips slightly.

“You take me so well, darling,” he breathed. “Fuckin’ little cunt just for me.”

“Yes!”

“So wet…so warm…” he cooed, kissing your lips between each word. “Such a good girl.”

“Please, Daddy…” you whined, daring to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Oh God, please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“I’m…oh fuck, I’m so close…”

Suddenly, Harry paused his thrusts, slipping out of your folds completely. You muttered a “no” as he hovered over you, staring into your eyes.

“Not yet, kitten,” he shook his head, his brows furrowed. His expression had returned to the scolding look, and you swallowed hard at the intensity it portrayed.

You bit your lip as you stifled a moan, and you felt the tears welling in your eyes. Harry seemed to have taken to this edging thing, and you weren’t sure you liked it very much. What you wanted was to come all over his cock, multiple times if possible. But this was obviously not like the other times you’d fucked. This was…torture.

“You come when I say you can, remember?”

You blinked rapidly. “Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

“Good girl,” he said, kissing your forehead.

“Can…can I touch you now? Please?”

Harry’s face softened, his lips curling into a gentle smile. “Yes, baby. Thank you for asking.”

Returning the grin, you reached for his long hair that fell around you, running your hands through it until your fingertips met his handsome face. He softly closed his eyes with a hum as you glided your thumbs across his cheeks. You really loved his face - even when he looked angry. But you especially loved it in moments like this, when he looked soft and happy…almost tender.

Then sliding your hands around his neck, you pulled him to you to caress his full, pillowy lips. He groaned low against your mouth as his own hands slid down your sides. Then lifting your hips again, he entered you with a long, deep thrust.

“Ohhhh,” you breathed against him.

“Take me, honey,” Harry moaned. “My God, you’ve got some kind of hold on me.”

“I do?” you whispered, wondering if he was just spouting rubbish because he was close as well.

“Fuck, yes, kitten. Daddy doesn’t like to get cross with you.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry I was a brat. I know now you only want me.”

“That’s right, baby…” Harry sped up his thrusts, letting out a deep, guttural moan.

You could feel yourself reaching the edge again, your core tightening as he fucked you hard and deep. The wet, squelching sounds of his hard cock moving in and out of your pussy, his balls hitting your ass were enough to make you cry out.

“Fuck, Daddy! Mmmm, feels so good!”

“Tell me…”

“It’s so hard, so deep. Nobody fucks me like you do, Daddy.”

“Oh yes, kitten. You only want my cock, yeah?”

“Yes…aaahhhhh…”

You grabbed hold of your thighs, looping your arms underneath your knees to keep them up, open and wide. You didn’t think you could hold out much longer, and when you heard Harry moan again, sexy expletives in your ear, you lost it.

“Please Daddy, can I come, please? I need to so bad. I’m right there!” you cried, more tears springing from the corners of your eyes.

“Yes, kitten. Come all over me. You’ve been such a good girl.”

With a few more whimpers as Harry pumped deep inside of you, the dam finally broke and you covered his hard cock with your juices. Throwing your head back, you cried out.

“Aaa-aaaa-uuuugggghhh!”

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl,” he cooed, his warm, deep voice vibrating in your ear.

“Ohhh, thank you, Daddy. Thank you.”

“Yeah, baby. Was that good?”

“So good. Oh God…” you panted, coming down from your orgasm as Harry held you. He kissed you tenderly, rubbing his nose against yours.

“You’re so beautiful when you come, kitten. I almost feel bad for making you wait.”

You smiled with your eyes closed, knowing full well that he wore a smirk. But you’d let him have his moment of triumph. Because you also knew he wasn’t finished with you yet.

Patting the underside of your thigh, Harry murmured, “Turn over, baby.”

With only a tiny moan of protest because you were spent, you rolled over onto your stomach, immediately propping yourself on your knees and gripping the pillow underneath you. Bracing yourself for a quick thrust, you were once again surprised when you felt Harry slither down the end of the bed to situate his face at your already saturated yet satisfied pussy. He gave your ass a quick slap before quickly extending his tongue to lap up your juices. You called out when he did it a second time, leaving his tongue to linger on your clit.

“Fuck…” you whimpered as he began seducing you with his tongue, moving in delicate laps and circles. “Daddy, you’ll make me come again.”

“Mmhmm,” you heard him agree, his hands gripping your thighs tightly.

Your ass in the air, you bucked against him, needing the friction to come. But he was merely teasing you with his tongue, barely ghosting over your tender flesh before applying the slightest bit of pressure.

“Uuuggghhhh Daddy, please!” you cried.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, lifting his head. Then he slapped his hand across your cunt. “Is this sweet little pussy gonna come again for Daddy?”

“Uh huh,” you managed to breathe.

“Do you want my cock again, or my tongue?”

“B-both.”

Harry chuckled, patting you again. “Don’t reckon that’s possible at once, but I love how insatiable you are. Filthy.”

You groaned just as you felt him insert a finger. Then another. Then lowering himself back down, he kissed your butt cheek. His fingers pumped your pussy as his tongue teased your hole, his other hand spreading you open. You mewled, fisting the pillow by your head, willing him to do all the dirty things he wanted. But your legs were trembling as his fingertips curled inside you, tapping on your softest spot.

“Fuck!” you panted.

When Harry’s tongue met your folds again, he reached his other hand around to pinch your clit. And that was when you came undone. You cried out as your juices squirted, your knees no longer able to hold you up. Harry kept his fingers inside you as you laid flat on the bed until you were no longer trembling.

“Wow, such a good girl, baby,” Harry cooed against your back. “That was pretty intense, yeah?”

“I think I made a mess of the bed,” you muttered against the pillow.

Harry chuckled, his slender, firm body covering yours as he made his way to your shoulder, kissing it before pushing your hair from your cheek.

“Think you got one more for me, kitten?” he asked softly.

“No,” you said honestly.

He laughed harder, guiding you onto your knees again. “Can we try?”

“Okay…” you sighed, still wanting to please him. Though your body was spent at the moment, you knew that once he had his cock inside you, you’d come to life again.

And you were right. As soon as his dick slipped into your pussy - although a bit sore - you were ready for him to pound you again.

As he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against your mound, your fingernails dug into the bed. And when he started to moan, his hands gripping your ass, you wanted nothing more than to make him come.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you pleaded. “Just like that.”

“Oh baby, I’m so close,” he panted.

“Yes, Daddy. Come inside me.”

“You want me to come inside your sweet pussy, baby?” he asked, his breaths quickened.

“Yes! I need it, Daddy.”

His thrusts got harder and faster as he groaned louder. Then reaching between you, you cupped his balls, earning a deep moan from him.

“Fuck yeah….uuuunnnnngggghhhh.”

With two last bucks of his hips, Harry stopped and cursed loudly. You could hear him exhaling heavily, his hands still pressed against your hips.

“Fuck, babe, you’re amazing. Oh, my sweet little kitten.”

You sighed as you felt him slip out of you. Then he rolled you over and climbed up to kiss your lips.

“A naughty little thing you are, though,” he smirked. “I can’t believe you let me do all that.”

“I was a bad girl,” you blinked.

Chuckling through a breath, Harry ran his hand through his hair, then laid down next to you. “I have to admit, love. I was turned on that you were a wee bit jealous.”

“So you were flirting with her, I knew it!” you exclaimed.

“No, I wasn’t,” he laughed. “At least not on purpose.”

Pursing your lips, you gave him a look.

“I swear to you, honey. I was not looking or thinking about anyone else but you. As soon as I saw you stood there in your short little shorts and your wet t-shirt…I knew I had to find a way to get you home as soon as possible.”

“Really?”

“Truly. Your friend just happened to be there, and I wasn’t gonna be rude.”

You bit your lip and shrugged. “I guess I can accept that.”

With a grin, Harry leaned over and placed another kiss on your lips. “Now, let’s go wash up and I’ll take you to dinner.”

“In public?” you asked with wide eyes.

Harry’s smile widened, making you melt. “If you like.”

Sitting up, you considered his offer for a moment. Your relationship had been secret for a while now. You’d had dinner with him at his place before, had ordered take-out or gone through a drive-thru a handful of times. But you’d yet to go out in public like a real date. Your eyes darted around the room before you licked your lips and nodded, taking his hand.

“Yes, Harry. I’d like that.”

Thank you to those who subscribed to my Patreon. It is just not for me, unfortunately, and I apologize for not giving you more content. I love you from the bottom of my heart.

Special thanks to @freedomfireflies, @fkinavocado, @gurugirl and @monicaalexandraaa for the encouragement 💗.

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[thatnewweeb]

Arranged | Todoroki Shoto

Summary | Endeavor and your father both always wanted to be higher in the hero rankings. In case you and Shoto do not achieve those goals, they decided you should enter a Quirk marriage to create an even better Quirk combination. However, you and Shoto didn't want to give into those demands. So how did you end up falling in love?

Content | Smut, fluffy, virginity loss, unprotected sex, aged up Shoto (third year, 18), discussion of marriage, alluded abuse of both Shoto and reader

Word Count | 2.4k+

A/N | I've had this idea for a while, this wasn't the original direction I had in mind, but this is how it went as I wrote. I'm trying to get better at writing smut! At the time of posting, I wrote this forever ago

Your Quirk developed when you were 4 and a half years old. Since that day, your life changed, and not for the better. Since that day, you've been training. You've been training hard.

Almost the moment that your Quirk finally developed, your father had made an agreement with the number two hero. His boy had already developed his Quirk, and your father had been waiting for yours to finally appear.

Later that year, you met Endeavor's youngest son, the boy you were told you would later marry, provided everything followed the plan created by your fathers.

The next time you saw him, roughly six months later, he had gained a large facial scar on his left side, although you did not ask about it.

Throughout the next ten years, you saw the boy multiple times, training together on occasion. You had to learn how best to use your Quirks in cooperation with each other, as well as separately. That was somewhat difficult, considering Shoto's refusal to use his fire.

Despite also having a deep hatred of your father, you never refused to use his half of the Quirk you inherited.

Your Quirk is called Cryo-Phasing, giving you the ability to pass through objects, simultaneously freezing them. Your phasing Quirk works a little differently than Mirio's, being unable to pass through the floor.

Your father and Endeavor believed that combining your Quirks in a Quirk marriage could lead to a stronger version of the Ice Quirk, as well as possibly adding Phasing to the mix of Quirks, thus creating an even more powerful child.

It seemed like some things never changed.

At age 15, you were accepted in UA through recommendations, being placed into Class 1-A, the same class as Shoto.

At the beginning of the year, it was unusual for the two of you to speak much, to each other or really to anyone else. You would spend time together, sure, but that was almost purely because you somewhat knew each other already. The only real interactions you had were sitting together during lunch breaks, and training together during class.

You both excelled in academics, combat and Quirk use. Of course, you had both been training for this your entire lives, training with some of the top heroes in Japan, so that was to be expected.

It wasn't until Midoriya helped Shoto to start coming out of his shell that you two started to actually get to know each other. He started to sit with Midoriya and his friends, but he didn't want you to become lonely, so he invited you to join them. Although you were quiet and difficult to get to know, he did hold some level of affection for you already. He figured that you were in a similar position to him, and that you would be able to relate to him and his issues.

During that time, Midoriya and his friends continued to help Shoto come out of his shell and open up to people, and also helped you to begin opening up too.

In particular, you and Shoto opened up to each other a lot.

Once UA implemented the dorm system, you and Shoto spent a lot of time together outside of school hours. It seemed to everyone that you were always together, whether that was in the common areas or one of your bedrooms.

Everyone was convinced that you both had crushes on each other, both being asked many times why you were not dating. Both of you claimed you were only friends.

Neither of you truly knew what it was you felt for each other, both being somewhat emotionally stunted from your upbringings, but you both knew it was something different from what you felt for your other friends. You both wanted to deny these feelings. After all, neither of you wanted to give in to what your fathers wanted for you.

During your second year, you kissed for the first time. Everyone had thrown a birthday party for Shoto, and as everything was winding down and coming to an end, he had snuck away with you and took you to the balcony in his room, claiming he wanted some fresh air.

Once outside, he turned to you and informed you of a conversation he had with his father a few days prior. He had spoken to your father about breaking the marriage arrangement. Your father had been against it, but Endeavor insisted that Shoto is now free to make his own choices. Part of his atonement for his previous actions.

Your father was continuing to try convince Endeavor to change his mind, which is why you hadn't been informed.

He explained that he was still hesitant to give into what his father wanted, even if he had been let free from being basically forced to do them now.

You understood his feelings, of course you did, you'd been struggling with the same thoughts about this as him.

"Well, for now, while we figure everything out, how about we just try this?" you ask him, taking both his hands and stepping closer, leaning up.

He realised what you were doing and leaned down a little, your lips pressing together for the first time. When you went to pull away, his hands let go of yours, moving quickly to wrap around you, keeping you close to him, not letting you move away, or break the kiss.

You don't try fight him on it, arms moving to wrap around his neck as your lips move against his.

Once you finally do break the kiss, he moves one hand up to rest gently on the back of your head, guiding it to rest against his shoulder, allowing him to keep you close.

Just a moment later, you were interrupted by a small squeak from inside the bedroom. Shouto apparently hadn't locked the door, and someone had realised the birthday boy was no longer present at his own party, so a few friends had come looking for him. The squeak came from Uraraka, who quickly ran out of the room, being closely trailed by a slightly red Midoriya.

The two of you looked at each other and smiled softly. "I suppose we may have to answer some questions."

He nodded in response to your statement, leaving to re-join the party.

Ashido and Hagakure of course asked if you were dating now, which you both denied. For now, it was simply a kiss.

"Are you going to Endeavor's agency once school is over?" You ask, laying with your bed hanging off the bed, looking at your best friend.

He gives a small nod. "I believe it will be the best place for me to start off." He says before talking a small, sharp breath. "Can we talk about something?"

You raise your eyebrows a little and sit up, patting the bed next to you, where he takes a seat. "Of course, what is it?"

"We're almost finished with UA, and I thought it may be time to finally discuss our relationship, before we leave school."

You take a small breath in this time, feeling a little nervous about what he is about to say. Your crush on the boy had never disappeared, but you never brought up your relationship again, not wanting him to feel pressured into making a choice he wasn't ready to make.

His hands find their way to grip yours gently, keeping eye contact with you. "I would like to go into this new part of our lives together. I am still a little hesitant for us to do what our father want from us, but it's what I want too, and I hope it is what you also want."

You bite your lip, letting go of his hands and throwing your arms around him. "Shoto, I would love that. I have wanted that for years."

He nods silently, one arm wrapping around your back, the other digging into his pocket. A moment later, he pulls a small, cute box out, pulling away from you a little so he can look you in the eyes as he hands the box to you.

"I've had this since I was 15. My father insisted I should give it to you, but I never did. I want you to have it," he says.

Inside is a small ring, with a delicate diamond, dainty and tasteful rather than being large and distracting. You bring your eyes back up to look at his, surprised.

"That ring is simply proof of my love for you. We should take things at my own pace. I'll buy you a ring myself one day. That will be when I really propose."

You smile, once again throwing your arms around him, this time putting your weight behind it to catch him off guard and knock him over.

Before he has a chance to say anything, you plant your lips firmly on his, bringing one hand to rest on his cheek, the other resting on his chest, legs holding you up as his hands immediately find your waist, giving into the kiss without any hesitation.

His fingers grip you tightly, breathing already beginning to get a little heavier. Although he has no experience, it seems as though he knows what to do, at least a little, moving his leg to press between your own.

One hand stays on your waist, the other moving to wrap around your back, holding you close to him and allowing him to press him leg up more, bouncing it softly.

His movements cause a soft moan to escape your lips, muffled by his own.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers breathlessly before connecting his lips to yours once again, seemingly wanting to have all contact he possibly can with you.

His tongue runs along your bottom lip, probing into your mouth, wanting to explore you as much as possible.

Breathlessly, you pull away from the kiss, looking down at him. His heterochromatic eyes stare back up at you, lids low with lust.

You sit up, pulling your shirt over your head, discarding it to a forgotten corner of the room. His hands quickly find their way back to your waist, biting his lip as he admires you. His staring makes you blush, but you know he's just taking it in.

His hands come up higher and carefully, yet slightly clumsily, undo your bra, slipping it off your body, throwing it in the same general direction as your shirt, quickly moving one hand to your left breast, sitting up and leaning his head to take your right nipple into his mouth.

You bite your lip, moaning softly. Your arm wraps around him, one hand coming up to play with his hair. You give it a gentle tug, making him groan softly.

Carefully, he moves so that you're underneath him, mouth not leaving your breast until your back is pressed against the bed.

Your hands find your way under his shirt, resting on his abdomen, prompting him to discard his too.

He leans down to kiss you once again, hands moving down to undo the shorts you're wearing, shuffling them down your thighs along with your panties. His long fingers drag slowly down your slit.

"You're so wet for me already, baby," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers continue to tease you, dipping slightly into you, but never quite giving you what you want, enjoying your moans as they get increasingly desperate.

You only want more and more as you feel his clothed cock pressing against your thigh.

“Shoto, please,” you whimper, needing more than what he’s giving you.

He chuckles softly. “Because you asked so nicely,” he whispers, slipping two fingers inside you, moving them slowly.

You moan softly, eyes closing and head leaning back. His movements speed up, fingers quickly finding your sweet spot. His thumb moves to your clit, your moans growing louder.

“S-Shoto, so good, so close,” you moan, looking up at him, orgasm building inside you.

Shoto kisses you, tongue finding it’s way into your mouth immediately, swallowing your moans as you get closer and closer to your release.

Then, right before you get there, his fingers suddenly withdraw. Your eyes shoot open and you look up at him, breathless and confused.

He laughs softly. “You look so pretty like that, baby,” He kisses your forehead, unable to resist at the sight of your bemused pout. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you unsatisfied.”

He quickly takes off his pants, his cock straining against his boxers to get out. When he finally lets it free, your mouth falls open slightly at how big he is. You’d expected him to be big, but not that big.

His hand runs up and down his cock a few times, spreading the juices on his fingers onto his cock before pressing up against your hole, which is already missing the fullness of his fingers.

“You ready, beautiful?” he asks you. You nod, taking your lower lip between your teeth.

He slowly pushes his cock into you, taking in a deep breath. “Been waiting so long for this, baby,” he whispers in your ear before moving to kiss your neck.

Your moans sound so sweet in his ear, moving slowly to give you time to adjust to the new stretch. He stills for a moment when he bottoms out inside you, stopping to kiss you.

“Are you ready, beautiful?” he asks you softly. He waits for your confirmation before moving, pulling out a little before thrusting back inside.

He pulls out a little further each time, cock seemingly perfect for finding that sweet spot inside you, as if your bodies are made perfectly for each other.

"You look so pretty for me, baby," he whispers, eyes staying on you, wanting to see your reactions to his movements, enjoying the look of bliss on your face.

You moan each time he thrusts inside you. "Your cock feels so good, baby," you whisper breathlessly.

His fingers find their way back to your clit, rubbing gently to begin with, rubbing a little harder as he continues.

"I'm getting close, baby," he whispers, breath heavy and small beads of sweat on his forehead. You nod to tell him you are too, moans interrupting your speech when you try to vocalise it.

He rubs harder, moaning as he feels your pussy tighten around him, getting him closer to his own orgasm as you reach your own climax.

Right before he reaches his own high, he pulls out, finishing on your abdomen and thighs.

For a minute, he stays where he is, both breathing heavily and just enjoying the moment.

When he does finally get up, he goes and grabs a warm cloth, cleaning you up, neither of you saying anything.

He climbs onto the bed and lays next to you, wrapping his arm around you. "This was worth the wait," he whispers to you, making you laugh softly.

"I agree."

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

[thevoidstaredback]

You know what a potentially hilarious story idea would be?

I saw this post a while ago and have no hope of finding the original again, but I remember something about the world finding out that Bruce Wayne funds the Justice League, and there was an uproar. Why does one man, no matter how beloved by his home, get to have any say in with the JL does with the money he gives them? B then has to outsource so much money through off-shores and charity just to keep the JL at the same level of funds because property damage and equipment is expensive.

That post, as my memory distracts me from my current task, inspired this.

Everyone knows that Batman is strict about identities, more so than literally everyone else. Because of that, he refuses to give up anything other than being born and raised in Gotham. That's fine because none of the others really jump at the chance to tell each other their real names until the Watchtower goes up, anyway.

None of the heroes know that he funds everything the JL does/is/has. But, what if he planned ahead? He knew that people were gonna eventually find out that Bruce Wayne basically owns the Justice League (he also owns the trademark), so he had a plan in place. It was just a matter of waiting to enact it, maybe see if any more players would need to be added.

Before the Justice League is announced by the public, Bruce Wayne funds them through Batman. When the group expands and the Hall of Justice is built, Bruce Wayne approaches Oliver Queen and Arthur Curry. He explains the public outcry of a single person privately funding the World's Heroes and asks if they'll split the bill with him three ways.

Naturally, he knows Oliver is Green Arrow and Arthur is Aquaman.

They're reluctant to agree, though Bruce knows they will in the end. They ask why he's so invested, why he'd come to them. After all, Bruce Wayne's a bimbo on his beast days, a whore on his worst days; Oliver's still relearning to navigate the world after being missing for five years; and Arthur's a lighthouse keeper in Maine. Not really the best choices to fund heroes, let alone make any financial decisions.

Bruce, because he's a dramatic bitch, drops into his Batman Persona - sans the entire costume - and says, "Because you're Green Arrow, you're Aquaman," his voice also drops to his Batman voice here, "and I'm Batman."