#i'm putting it in the tag so i can get thoughts without asking people

[midnight-scrivener]

Hi! Just reblogging this as an example of one of the more convincing AI Slop videos I've seen recently. The man looks right, the motion and the water all seem to make sense. At first viewing, this is a very normal, sweet video! I absolutely saw it 2 or 3 times before my bullshit detectors started going off.

Once you start hunting for mistakes, things start to fall apart a bit more. In the beginning, the man's leg clips through the boat's rail as he walks towards the whale. And the configuration of the railing continues to change from shot to shot.

We never see the net actually unwrap from around the whale, it just sort of.... Pulls out of somewhere behind it. And the net itself doesn't have a clear, regular woven pattern. It looks almost cheated, like a texture in a game that's trying to give the idea of a net without mapping every line.

And perhaps most egregiously, the whale itself. It's constantly moving, and it does move, yaknow, whaleishly, and the general shape seems right. But at the start of the video it has a fin coming out of its chin, and at the end its eye is in a different place and its mouth is much smaller. The ai isn't suuuuper sure how a whale's like. Skin or skeleton works either, and the front of the mouth doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and the way that the whale's underside wrinkles goes up way too high by the end of the video.

This isn't to say that if you didn't notice before that it's your fault! I didn't either. The constant motion does a lot to hide the inconsistencies, especially if you're just viewing casually. But I've been seeing this video specifically crop up more and more on my social feeds, so I wanted to say something about it!

I'm not the first person to realize it's AI; the comments are full of similar thoughts. But my hope is that by putting this in a post and tagging it, people can start to filter it out.

And also. Perhaps unnecessarily. I do just want to add that this technology is getting more convincing every day in an era where powerful people are relying on misinformation and public complacency to further their agenda. It might be feel good animal videos now, but if you see a piece of media and it looks too good to be true, it's an important time to ask if it IS, and who benefits from the narrative it's presenting.

Stay safe!

[lattehearted]

OH MY GIRLS GET TO SIT TOGETHER ON THE MUSE PAGE, I LOVE THAT

[crispyjenkins]

mandalore the young cont.

original post/discussion here! it was just getting really long and i for one hate scrolling so far, so. here's this. have also added this au to my masterlist in my pinned post!

@malcontent-crow

#i had a whole wall of tags and it didnt save! lets try this again#i am loving this. the potential for world building and the consequences of knowing more than you should (literally)

#i had forgotten that DW wasnt in peoples thoughts as a threat during the Clan Wars#and the idea that Pre was so far underground with the movement is a very good thing to remember as well! #on one hand you have this driven and spirited young verd that is inspiring Clans to start reassessing who they are fighting and why#on the other you have this clanless outsider that knows waaaaay too much about all the potential major players and is saying#that this major threat isnt really as gone as everybody thought and hoped. sith parallels out the wahoo for ppor obi#and hes standing there watching them all argue over his head about this threat that he KNOWS needs to be dealt with#he is seeing himself as pretty on par or above with the Old Guard in terms of mental age or prowess or large scale battles#so he sees them doubt him maybe even to his face and knows he'll need to get things started on his own

#and becauae everything in the galaxay has at least one person watching it from the outside... how quickly does the news of a jedi padawan#going off the rails on this mission get out? whos keeping track and who points fingers at the jedi for attempting to control the outcome#of the war of their historical enemies in their favor? the senate (read sith) want mandalore defanged before their war but what does it look#like the jedi want? how does the council answer for his actions? do they condemn or condone him? do they try to stay out of it?

#the world building potential of the Manda and the Ka'ra is delicious.#what does it mean to be a mando or darmanda? can you walk around and have people look at you and know you have failed in your oaths?

#and ouch! Obi-Wan considering the fact that he has never been allowed to be his own person.#from padawan to knight/master and then a general and councilor and sheesh. hes really never had the chance to see who he is as a person#outside of his responsibilities to everybody around him and right now hes a war worn adult in a war worn teens body#hes always had somebody else there. as a battle companion a teacher a student as somebody to protect and guard and guide#and now he has this entire culture looking at him and waiting for his next move. and im guess it still feels like less than a burden than#the care and raising of an entire child on his own. sure he had the temple resources and other jedi to lean on but anakin always looked to#him first to solve any problem or teach him something new or cuddle him after nightmares as hes trying to hide his own dreams#and grief and flounding to find his footing as an independent adult

#so right now hes looking around at the entire mando population and realizing thats he might need to reshape himself again for somebody else#to make himself what others need and knowing he can and will do it if it means saving somebody else

#and when exactly did he come back from the war? did he have satine die in his arms and see the ruin that is madalore after a pacifist reign?#does he see the potential for that ruin to happen right now if he doesnt succeed? where does he see himself in regards to the jedi?#has he considered the consequences of stepping up to be the Mand'alor to this culture he has never seen as his own?#has he let himself think about the choices he needs to make and how some things you cant always come out the other side the same as before?

(following the trend of each of these getting longer, this has hit just under 5,000 words, so just a heads up lol? so much world building is happening in this one)

sorry you had to rewrite so much! that last exchange was cursed, it seems lmao

it's so easy to write Obi-Wan as prescient, or the route I'm going with in Dha Kar'ta, so i think it's a fun change-up to have him knowledgeable for completely different reasons! I'm actually going to avoid visions almost at all for this Obi, but everyone else certainly won't know the difference, and he doesn't tell them otherwise (though he won't encourage it either. I do actually have a Naruto time travel where Nart pretends to be psychic à la Shawn Spencer, so that isn't the route I wanna go for this Obi). the consequences of knowing too much, indeed

hmmm many of these questions depend on how deep into Jedi and galactic politics I wanna go, and I'm not sure it's very deep at all. or at least, not very dragged out. i'll explain in a mo

SO first: yes, this Obi is from after Satine dies, in 19 BBY, maybe a month or so after, but before the bombing of the Temple so before Ahsoka left the Order. He was back on the front, no time to properly mourn, though he was doing his best, and was meditating on the whole war, but especially the Sith and their hand in everything that happened on Mandalore. It went deeper than Maul, he knew, had been going on longer than Maul and even Dooku, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that the Sith either wanted a Mandalore that will side with them but not be too much a threat, or they wanted them not a threat at all. He realised his hand in that, in helping put the New Mandalorians on the throne that led to the demilitarisation of the entire sector. Obi-Wan had practically teed Mandalore up for Dooku and then Maul's interference, and if the Republic won the war, he could all too easily see them doing another excision. won't get too much into it to save it for the fic, but he is mediating with something beskar, and he gets a lil too deep into the Force, and of course this is post-Mortis so...... 👀

so this Obi-Wan, back in time, is helping Mandalore to prevent any more Sith machinations in the future, to change the future for the whole galaxy, but even before he's Chosen, he realises he's also doing all of this for Mandalore. for his own hand in its destruction, for the Jedi's hand in the Excision, for his personal connection to Satine drawing Maul to it. it's for atonement, for reparation, and also because Mandalore deserves to be saved, and Obi-Wan is in a place he can help do that. it isn't just about the health of the galaxy, anymore.

I usually shy away from having Obi-Wan leave the Order, no matter what AU I'm throwing him in because I believe in the fundamental goodness of the Order and the people in it, and Obi-Wan is fundamentally a Jedi, one of the best, one of the best. however, in this case, I don't think he can have his cake and eat it too. if Dooku had to leave the Order to accept his countship, then Obi-Wan would have to leave to become Mand'alor. Jedi are (supposed to be) politically neutral, and Obi-Wan is all too aware he'd nullified his own neutrality the moment he decided to go for Keldabe to find Jango.

one of my favorite... tropes? in time travel fic is Obi using his future fellow councilmembers' access codes to get into things he shouldn't, and he certainly knows how to work the Order's internal systems in his favor, so he

wait so i was gonna have him go in and tender his resignation from the Order directly into the systems, and backdate it for before the Mandalore mission, so that anything he's done on Mandalore so far cannot be blamed on the Jedi BUT WHAT IF he just. deletes himself. like completely. from admin to the Archives to the crèche's own internal systems to the Shadow's private servers, Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a Jedi, was never a Temple bastard, was never Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. his mission records are all in Qui-Gon's name now, his medical file simply doesn't exist, his crècheling clan is listed as simply having been a person short compared to other clans that year. he goes so far as to delete comm histories with him or mentioning him, it's like Obi-Wan Kenobi just doesn't exist anymore.

he does this first thing after leaving Jango, he spends the entire week back to Mandalore ensuring he's been completely erased from absolutely anything relating to the Jedi, and then uses his future councilmember knowledge (and lessons from Quinlan) to erase himself from Republic systems, too. any planet he'd helped as a padawan will suddenly have no records of him as having been there with his master, so the senate or Order can't subpoena them for the info, though Obi-Wan knows he can't have gotten everything (such as any planet not in the Republic, or who don't have holonet access to their files, or both, like Melida/Daan), but he figures he's done enough to absolve the Order if anyone comes knocking about what he's doing.

he buries his lightsaber in the deserts of Mandalore, not knowing that in his old future, he'd have done the same on Tatooine.

so as far as the Jedi are aware: Obi-Wan went on a mission with Qui-Gon that (predictably) went to hell, got separated from his master for weeks to months, then suddenly changed, at the same time their Jedi with the highest prescience collapsed due to his visions, which have also changed. Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon behind to hightail it through the Mandalore sector, and Qui-Gon couldn't catch up or find him, and then Obi-Wan disappeared from anyone's radars for two weeks. then Qui-Gon senses him reenter the Mandalore system, right before breaking his training bond with him, and the Order wakes up to Obi-Wan completely erased from their systems like he never existed in the first place. everything is going so so wrong, and yet. and yet.

and yet the Force is telling them all that this is right, that this is the least Dark course of action, that whatever Obi-Wan is doing is indeed the Will of the Force

so the Order mourns one of their own, and tells Qui-Gon to let him go. and then the Order ups their cyber security because what.

i think he leaves an unsigned letter/comm message for a few people. Bant, Quinlan, Mace, Feemor, his old crèchemaster, Yoda, maybe Jocasta Nu. it's short, basically thanking them for their hand in his upbringing (Feemor hasn't even met him before so is very confused by this), apologising for leaving abruptly, but to follow the Will of the Force, he had to leave; the first part of the message is all the same, but ends with little individual notes. he apologises to Madam Nu for fucking with her archives and hopes she can one day forgive him; he asks her to keep her friends close and to mend the tension between her and Dooku, that Obi-Wan should not know about. He tells Yoda that the future is always in motion but they must move with it; he asks Yoda to meditate on his dwindling lineages and learn to accept all that he cannot control. He reminds Quinlan to wear his gloves and asks him to thank Tholme for looking out for him when Qui-Gon wouldn't or didn't; he thanks him for their years together, and asks him to check in on Feemor every now and then. He apologises to Mace for all the shatter-points he likely caused and will continue to cause, and suggests he put a permanent reminder in his comm to remember to refill his migraine prescription that sixteen year-old Obi should not know about. He asks Bant to look out for a young Togruta initiate that will join in seven years, and suggests Bant might like the healer track rather than the knight corps; he thanks her for being his longest and most dearly-held friend. He thanks his crèchemaster for realising his visions were more than dreams (which will inadvertently lend credence to that theory for why Obi-Wan changed so suddenly), for supporting him when Bruck was at his nastiest, and for always being someone he could turn to even after he became a padawan. For Feemor, Obi-Wan apologises that they hadn't had the chance to meet before then, and for the relationship they won't have anymore; Feemor has no idea who this message is from, until he starts hearing the gossip that Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Order again. He too mourns never getting to know his padawan brother.

and Obi-Wan sends Qui-Gon a message, of course, thanking him for his teachings, apologising for "leading him on" as an apprentice, leaving and coming back so many times only to permanently leave this time. he reminds Qui to reach out to his friends and his support system, asks him to at least consider talking to a mind or soul healer about Xanatos (knowing that once it gets out that Obi-Wan is a planetary leader, it will likely badly trigger Qui-Gon), and asks him to at least try and mend his relationship with Dooku, though understands if that's not something Qui-Gon is willing to do. asks him to keep Satine safe, but to deeply think about why the Republic is so intent on helping her faction, and why Qui-Gon had questioned so little of the New Mandalorian ethos.

so by the time Obi-Wan finds the Old Guard, he's broken from the Order completely, has buried his saber, has broken his training bond, has cut his braid. I think he shaves his head entirely to let it grow out at the same rate, because the padawan cut is *Eliot Spencer voice* Very Distinctive. he paints his armour white for, yes, his men, his vod'e, but also for cin vhetin. he can't be the man he was before, nor the teen he was before, neither are who Mandalore needs, and as long as he can stay true to his morals and upbringing, he will be what Mandalore needs him to be.

okay now onto the Manda vs. the Ka'ra vs. the Force. the Force is a scientific concept of an energy connecting absolutely everything in the universe, and the Jedi have a religious view on the scientific concept. for both purposes, the Force just is. I really like the idea of other non-Jedi ideas just being different aspects of the Force, different religions and cultures based on the same scientific concepts. for Mandalorians, their "aspect" of the Force is the Manda, the collective souls of every Mando'ade that's ever marched on. just what it means to be Mando'ade has varied greatly through history, and is varied between different groups even now, but none of that changes what the Manda is, which is an aspect of the Force only Mando'ade can touch. sort of like their beliefs of it being separate from the Force have made it so?

now I haven't really talked about this before, but from the beginning of me writing Mandalorian related things, i've separated Ka'ra from ka'ra, which was a little bit me misremembering there was another term for "stars", and then it became it's own thing. kar, meaning "star", with it's plural kar'e or kare, to me, means physical stars, the way we'd call our sun a star. ka'ra, uncapitalised, is the more poetic and/or spiritual "stars", the way we might say something is "written in the stars", which actually aligns with how jate'kara is spelled; for my writing, i've used this form for Mandalorian Force-sensitives being Star-touched ka'ra-touched. Ka'ra, capitalised, is that "ruling council of fallen kings", the Mandalorian myth and it, the way I've always interpreted it, is a separate part of the Manda made up of specifically the souls of every Mand'alor already marched on. So, Tor Vizsla could have joined the Manda after death, but not the Ka'ra; make sense? all that ka'ra vs Ka'ra worldbuilding was done very early in my writing for star wars, and has since expanded to include the idea of the Manda as something separate, and I would now actually consider Manda-touched over Star-touched to describe Force sensitive Mando'ade, because that's really what I think Mandalorians would consider causes their supernatural powers: ancestors rather than the stars.

so what does that mean for this fic? the Manda is directly influenced by all those that consider themselves Mandalorian, Force-sensitive or not. it is, however, not affected by New Mandalorians, unless they worship the Manda in some facsimile, and I think many, many, many do not, not the way they were raised to. this worship looks different for every clan and every individual, and I've always interpreted it as more of a broad spiritual practice across the whole culture rather than a religion, per se, the way a real-world broader culture might pray at shrines at New Years even if individuals themselves or their family aren't religious. this is what I'm referencing when I say the Will of the People: the alive Mando'ade and their choices and emotions affecting and influencing the Manda, the collective amalgamation of every passed-on Mando'ade, and it's when these two are in tandem that they "pick" a Mand'alor. HOWEVER, such a pick is also up to the Ka'ra, the Mand'alor'e that have all marched on; to one day enter the Ka'ra themselves, a Mand'alor must be "picked" by both the People/the Manda, and the Ka'ra. Tor would be "picked" by a significant part of the People and the Manda, and so would Jaster have been, but (according to me, myself, and i, obviously), only Jaster had been chosen by the Ka'ra. Pre is "Mand'alor" only in name, only in a tenuous loyalty existing in House Vizsla and Death Watch, not even by the Manda; just simple human (et al) loyalty. Jango had a weaker "pick" from the Manda than Jaster did, but was picked by the Ka'ra, meaning if he did not declare himself dar'manda (even just internally; I don't think he's ever said it out loud), he would have joined the Ka'ra after death; if he ever reconnects with himself as a Mandalorian, I like to think he'd have that chance again. Canon Jango, though, who went on to make the clones? Absolutely not.

what does this all mean for Obi-Wan? he'd spent weeks inadvertently drumming up support in the people and therefore the Manda, and maybe most haven't really looked at him and thought "sure I'd follow him as Mand'alor", but they have looked at him and thought "that one has mandokar, that one wants what's best for Mandalore, that one is touched by destiny". I dunno, man, like. Obi-Wan is their hope before he is their leader. That will make all the difference when he does end up uniting them. His searching out Jango had made Jango finally confront that he feels dar'manda, until then he hadn't really lost the Ka'ra's support, but that severs that connection. and now the Ka'ra are without a Mand'alor, but look at that, there's a mandokar'la little idiot right there, already strong in the Manda, already rallying hope and purpose, already so invested in the nurturing and the future of Mandalore, how could the Ka'ra not choose him?

I posed the question previously whether or not Mando'ade can tell who has been chosen to be Mand'alor, and I think I've ironed out what that'll mean for this fic. non-Force sensitive Mando'ade will have this sense when near their Mand'alor, a subconscious and inherent trust in them, and indeed, some will be disturbed by this and fight it. that's alright, that's their right. Some never clock this extra sense, some are aware of it always, some just chalk it up to "gut feelings" and the like. The more spiritual or religious Mandos maybe put a little more stock in this feelings, I think especially goran'e and other spiritual leaders, but the fact that the Manda can technically pick more than one person at a time (like Tor and Jaster, and then Jango), this extra sense isn't a perfect indicator of a properly chosen Manda'lor.

now. what about Force sensitive Mando'ade? Well, the Manda is an aspect of the Force, and is in fact how said Force sensitive Mando'ade connect to the Force, by going through the Manda, first. their relationship with sensitivity is inherently different from others in the galaxy, at least those that connect to it directly. they are the ones that can sense or see if someone is chosen by the Ka'ra, depending on their sensitivity. Some see the ghostly line of previous Mand'alor'e stretched out behind them (like the Avatar cycle lmao), some see a wavering crown of stars around their head, some just sense there is a duplicity (/neutral) to their Force presence that doesn't exist in anyone else. how common is Force sensitivity in Mandalorian space? not fuckin very. Jaster had three in his entire faction of aprox. 2 million (fanon number), at least that were aware they were sensitive. Jango only had a few more, and only because he had gained a couple hundred thousand more followers before Galidraan. so i'll make the nearly-arbitrary number that Force sensitive Mandos are 1 in 1,000,000, across the entire sector. by some calculations, in the whole galaxy at around the time of the Clone Wars the number of Force sensitives is 1 in 5,000,000 but these calculations do not generally include societies and species with a near or 100% chance of Force sensitivity, because we simply don't have the data for it. does this all make Mandos slightly more likely to be Force sensitive than others, by my own numbers? sorta. which i'm making an issue of underreporting, based on Mandalore not being a part of the Republic, and also contention with the Jedi and Sith; they don't consider those Manda-touched to be Force sensitive, and with the way I've built this, they aren't exactly wrong.

for the purposes of this story, there are maybe eight Manda-touched Mando'ade in the Mandalore system at this time, and all but one are goran'e. that single non-armorer is part of the Old Guard. I have the roster for the Old Guard decided, so I'm debating whether the Manda-touched one is Cort Davin (a journeyman protector), or one of the women. Instinct wants Vhonte Tervho, but I have plans for her to be related to the goran Obi-Wan got his armour done by, who I wanted to be one of the seven Force sensitive armorers, soooo. lmao how fucked would it be if Isabet Reau is the Force sensitive one? I like the angst of that, since I definitely do not plan on redeeming her, but I kind of want the only Old Guard that can sense Obi-Wan is Chosen by the Ka'ra to be really quiet and accepting of it, while everyone else is arguing. hmmm I have an unnamed Wren as part of the Guard, that I haven't fleshed anything out for yet; perhaps them?

okay I think I've solidified what it makes a Mandalorian, at least for the function of this fic. it is tied to the Resol'nare, and following it, which does allow those who had Chosen Tor Vizsla as their Mand'alor to technically still be following the Resol'nare, and are therefore not dar'manda. at least not for that. but part of the reason the Resol'nare is even able to determine who has a Mandalorian soul, is because they believe it does. Those alive and those dead influence the functionality and reality of the Manda, which also allows for those pre-Resol'nare to still exist in the Manda. What causes someone to become dar'manda, if they are technically following the Resol'nare?

maybe it's reductive, or over-simplified, or maybe even too broad, but it makes sense to me and allows for many many different types of people to still fail, and this is obviously not the only way to become dar'manda, but one thing that will always strip someone of their Mando soul? treatment of children. caring for children. not harming children. this allows many of Death Watch to still maintain their Mando souls, but still be fucked up awful people in other ways. It allows even True Mandalorians to have lost their souls and not realised it because they otherwise adhered to the Resol'nare, because they'd chosen to interpret "defending oneself and family" and "raising your children as Mandalorians" to not include other peoeple's children. Or maybe they were abusive in the belief they were caring for their children. This would also make every single one of the Cuy'val Dar dar'manda, which I think is a fascinating concept.

to answer your question directly, no, one cannot look at someone and know they're dar'manda, even the Force/Manda sensitive ones. one will only know in death, whether or not they have a place in the Manda.

NOW what does this mean for New Mandalorians?? well, by technicality and the way I've set the Manda up, one can interpret the Resol'nare in ways that could align with New Mandos. Perhaps they interpret "armour" as more than specifically "beskar'gam", maybe they wear armourweave or other protective fabrics. Maybe they interpret "defending one's family" as putting down arms instead of raising them, in order to create a peaceful future for their children. I think there are plenty of New Mandos that technically tick off all the boxes, and believe in themselves and their fellows so much that the Manda is like "yeah sure why not, we'll make that count". I think some tenants are more easily... bent, like swearing to the duchy in place of the Mand'alor, but I think an easy one New Mandos miss, is "speak Mando'a." I think many New Mandos were all too quick to switch to Basic for everything except religious and spiritual ceremonies, and I think those already in the Manda would find that very hard to forgive. I actually get into this a little in Dha Kar'ta very soon, but for this fic, i'll have Satine not outright outlawing Mando'a, but it is socially heavily discouraged. you're not allowed to speak it in the palace unless in aforementioned ceremonies, you cannot fill out paperwork in anything but Basic, you're not allowed to use Mando'a titles (including Mand'alor), you're not allowed to teach it to your children. no outright like. punishments for speaking it in public, but if your kids are caught, there are repercussions, including investigation into how else you're raising your kids, and if you're found to be doing anything else, they can take your kids from you. not every New Mando agrees with this, of course, and go about adhering to the Resol'nare as best they can in secret, but so many do give up the language by convincing themselves it's not as important as the other tenants and, well, the duchy hasn't steered them all wrong yet, has it?

okay so on the subject of what the outside galaxy is seeing. I like the headcanon/trope/idea of like. the one thing all factions of Mandalorians agreeing on is fuck everyone else. oh, the New Mandos will emulate the Core and the Republic, but they aren't the Republic nor want to be, and this animosity extends to keeping as many internal Mandlorian issues just that: internal. no faction can keep news from leaving the system or the sector, obviously, but there also isn't a lot of interest in Mandalorian news? "oh look all the Mandos are fighting again", except that's been the standard for like. actual thousands of years. I like when fic have people outside the sector not evening knowing there are different factions, so I'll be doing that here, too, and I like the idea of non-Republic sectors having their own holonets, separate from the Republic one. so like, if Obi-Wan happens to go a little viral during his mad dash to Keldabe, that would be on the Mandalorian holonet, not the Republic one, so even if Obi-Wan was visibly still a Jedi (and he wasn't), actual news of him wouldn't reach the Mid and Inner Rims until like. possible years after it happens.

could this maybe be expedited by Sith machinations? absolutely, though I'm not sure I want to go that route, since I don't think the Sith are overmuch interested in Mandalore at this point, at least not in any hands-on capacity. I'm unclear on whether them funding Death Watch is fanon or not, but it is a headcanon I subscribe to, and I think they'd have stopped funding DW after Galidraan, to cause worse infighting and prevent DW from gaining enough power to actually restart their imperial conquering days. Palpatine has been senator for about ten years by this point, but has very little political power overall, and Demask would be looking basically anywhere but Mandalore at this point in time, both of them having written it off until they actively need something from the sector. if anyone had clocked Obi-Wan as a Jedi, this all would have gone very differently, news would have spread much further and quicker and I think undoubtedly would have reached Palpatine, but since I have Obi-Wan just... cutting ties to anything Jedi, news of him remains in-sector. is this perhaps unrealistic? maybe, but I kind of want to focus on Mandalore and not worry about galactic-wide politics for once, lmao, actually very much like Obi-Wan is doing. however, he will clock a lack of Sith interference and thinks That's Very Weird.

haven't decided how he finds Palpatine out yet, but I think it'll have to do with his Manda senses being different than his Force ones, maybe the Ka'ra even gives him a few tips or gifts to sense Sith since they've allied and fought with them so much in the past. regardless, that'll be after he's become Mand'alor and united the clans.

now to actual plot progression! Obi-Wan meets up with the Old Guard, they don't know what to make of him other than "he's kriffing weird. and young. and creepy. and probably Manda-touched." whatever other verd is Manda-touched will see him blessed by the Ka'ra, which causes them to look inwards more closely and realise they trust Obi-Wan inexplicably, which means they're blessed by the Manda and the Will of the People, too. they wonder if Obi-Wan has noticed, if any of the other Old Guard have noticed. they are one of a few that notice Obi-Wan sneaking back out while everyone is arguing.

Vhonte Tervho is another. She's at this lil summit to represent clan Tervho, tho isn't the clan head, because her ba'vodu, a Manda-touched goran, had sensed she needed to be at the summit. said ba'vodu is of course the armorer who reforged Obi-Wan's armour (need to find a name for them hmm), who had told their clan they were to cease fighting until their new Mand'alor called on them. Vhonte sees Obi-Wan, realises at the same time as everyone that he's the Kih'Manda, the Mand'ika that the entire system had been gossiping about for weeks, and she thinks of what her ba'vodu said. she looks inwards, like they had taught her to, and finds, yes, she trusts Obi-Wan, just like she used to trust Jango. And, well, her Mand'alor is obviously leaving to go do something, and she isn't going to let him go it alone.

the Manda-touched verd doesn't go with them, wanting to see what comes of this, but they already know Obi-wan is Ka'ra Chosen. they will come when he calls.

[whispering-kavka]

the struggles of today proved to me that i might indeed be a little mentally unwell

[distant--shadow]

very much not a post about Cole, yes I brought up a question of theirs that got answered but that was in another post as an example of poor question selection and how it felt shitty in context of "hey I'm gonna give all of this attention to this last question" and getting that, which was lame (maybe I'm out of touch here, I'm not in any big servers or cliques, I'm not aware of the role the glasses play as a "lightning rod" still, as u say, or that it was still relevant. to me it has been made pretty clear (as Laura said) in campaign that she needs them but doesn't have them (I couldn't care less if people chose to make their own art with her wearing them, I'm aware of what making choices u enjoy for ur own fanart is), therefore my frustration on that getting asked. you have picked a post out of a few I made and q's I answered that would give this context (and how I'm more frustrated by the show as a whole as well as general fandom behaviour) . the most tasteless question by far was about gendering the future kids, that is what I'm annoyed at when I'm talking about needing your own headcanons confirmed, idk who made it and I didn't put much thought into paying attention to names behind them because at the end of the day I was just noting the overall quality of questions, I'm not gonna change my opinion on the question based on the person behind it. I also think it will always be valid to critique media you care about and also quesiton the behaviours of people that share space with you(as u are with me rn) (so yes I see u people saying "lol get over the term girlfailure, we got bigger issues going on in the world" then a moment later being like "omg cr fandom has so much casual misogyny" like yeah, you're partaking in casual misogny babe. yes I'm aware people disagree with this. this is my blog, I'm a person with opinions) I have since spoken to people who submitted questions, none of which got answered and people admit they sent both more in depth and lighthearted ones. yes from that I can conclude that the issue lies more with the curation, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel frustrated, and I had said that yes Laura is probably just picking out anything that looks like a quesiton in a quickly moving chat, u can see how she deflated when getting far enough through some of them.

once again, this whole post jumping into Cole defense is just showing that you're also agitated by something in the moment without the actual context you're "having to assume" and that's fair, but it's arguably just as reactionary as what you're saying I did. yes, I think the fandom behaviour needs to be different if it's going to have this much impact on the actual content of a show, that's the main thing here, I don't like the feeling of being catered or pandered to if this is what they think fans want to see, yes maybe a lot of this is me being reactive to that feeling. it's a blog. I'm sharing my opinions in the moment. I want others to see that despite the fact I make a fuck tonne of shipping art, I don't actually want that being lip-serviced like those are my needs during the sparse oppurtunities that we get for deeper character answers.

also, to end, to finish off this post with the tags "#the fires ya'll #kyle just lost his fucking house" like what???! OK????!!! do you feel righteous now? you don't think i 100% support them taking all the time off they need tor recover from this? that I'm not sympathetic? you really saying hey excuse you, don't be a bully, fires have happened? when the person I'm apparently targeting from your post is not cast or crew? (or in california, as far as I'm aware) like what? that's the "unkind" thing to say right there, I get that things are super rough and Laura is recovering from a lost voice because of everything going on. maybe they didn't need to rush it, maybe that doesn't change the fact they still recorded and chose the questions they did? I don't think many fans were thinking "oh i'll ask baby questions because there have been fires." I'm not gonna go into this any more but, super super lame behaviour.

I shouldn't be surprised by the fireside chat being the state it was, seeing as I don't follow any CR themed blogs myself or really go into the tags because I find it frustrating but still, the bleed over of fanon is depressing and a lot of you are showing your asses in terms of how you don't actually gaf about the characters or the story the players have chosen to tell.

I love my au's, I love my headcanons, I love my not quite canon ships, but they're for me and the people who chose to enjoy them if they want to. and what makes creating those things more fulfilling is trying to really be true to the character it's about, otherwise just go play with OCs

this will be my last salty post on the matter (guess we'll see) but man, the timing? all of this crazy shit is going on, it is well established that the audience is frustrated with how little downtime we've had with these characters and getting to see those long rest bonds we got to enjoy with previous campaigns, 4SD is over, and that's what you wanna ask about? it's selfish, honestly.

[the-smiling-doodler]

slams my head violently against the wall /neg

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

I mean I knew it'd bite me in the ass sooner or later havin him on this damn pedestal when I know he's really just some guy w/ a fuckton of baggage but

Goddamn it I just needed someone.

[valdevia]

Very funny that tumblr is having discourse about whether my art is misinformation or not, after I've been posting it all over the internet for years without any controversy. So let's talk about it!

I know people arguing are a vocal minority, but I'm not going to dismiss anyone's concerns. It's an actually interesting topic that I really consider, and it touches some important issues in society. So here's my (rambly) two cents.

My art is meant to misdirect, in some way. Photomanipulation and the tone I typically use are meant to briefly confuse the person reading it into thinking they're hearing a real story, at least for a few seconds.

The Intended Experience™

In this sense, I feel like my art can be misinformation! And it's not only people who don't think critically about things like "how come I never heard about mermaids being real before?".

So, no disrespect to anyone that fell for one of my pieces! My work plays with reality, so if you fell for it for more than a minute, it just means my tone and style worked a little too well for you! And there are legitimate reasons to be confused when you see something online, too. For example, there are people who can have trouble telling real and fictional things apart. When you post something that goes out to a million people, you'll get one million different reactions.

That's why I always take care to make it really clear, outside the main piece and snippet of text, that my art is no more than fiction. There are tags, the tone of my account, even my profile picture is meant to reinforce this. I also have a website which, in part, is meant to capture the clicks of people to wonder if my stuff is real and google it, so they can find a real source that's clearly an art website. You can try googling "mycelium infection 1806" or "pupillosarcoma" to see how my website tends to appear first.

If I get this comment I know I've done something believable!

But let's say, for the sake of argument, that my art wholly constitutes misinformation. What we need to understand is that misinformation is not the same as disinformation. Misinformation is just incorrect information. It's your grandma seeing a little bit of a found footage movie on TV and thinking it really happened. She might be spooked, but nobody is harmed. Disinformation is false information that's purposefully crafted and spread in order to cause harm, division, or further a political view.

Now I ask you: what real world harm does my art create? The worst that can happen is that a tiny percentage of those that see it get a little scared thinking a weird bug is real, or that mushrooms really grow on faces, or that scientists have released millions of trilobites into the oceans. Is that really that bad?

Anyway, that's my take on the topic! I'm obviously biased, but this being my style, I do put a lot of thought into it and I'm always open to people's opinions! (Just don't scream at random people on the replies or you'll get blocked!)

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt.12

Word Count: 18.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes. Play the part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not quite like your moms, but overwhelmingly delicious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sylus? No...not Sylus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As he got back up, Sylus’s lips brushed against yours in a way that felt surprisingly gentle, almost reverent, as though he were savoring every second. But slowly, his kiss grew deeper, his lips pressing into yours with a hunger that caught you off guard. His hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers tracing the edge of your jaw as he whispered between each kiss, his voice filled with admiration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It excited him more than he wanted to admit.

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

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

He hoped to god that that was true for you.

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

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

Over and over and over.

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

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

Oh well. Plenty of time for that later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Understood. Rest well."

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

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

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

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

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

“Tara?” he muttered, bewildered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he couldn’t say that to Tara.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[smutoperator]

Underwater

Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader

Tags: cheating, diving, fingering, Hawaii, mermaid, multiple cumshots, pool, titfucking, toplessness, (plenty of) underwater sex, vacation

Word count: 4800.

Eunbi had enjoyed her vacation in Hawaii a lot. Experiencing new things with her best friend Minju and staying very far away from home had been a very pleasant experience for her, as she could eat new kinds of food, discover new activities, hang out along the beautiful Hawaiian beaches, and practice her hobby of scuba diving.

The fact that Eunbi and Minju had traveled in the winter to Hawaii, at the lowest season, meant they faced no crowds and were able not to rush anything in their trip experience. So much so that the two girls had now become the only two people left in the hotel. As Minju took a walk with her manager to explore some places, Eunbi now had the hotel all to herself.

Eunbi rested on the chair, wearing her favorite black bikini. The wintery sun of Hawaii was fairly weak, but enough to give her pale skin a little extra tanning. Eunbi then jumped in the pool, taking her water-proof camera with her as she started recording her diving and swimming under the water.

Minju was still a couple hours away from coming back, meaning Eunbi could be a little riskier. Knowing nobody was around her, Eunbi took some extra freedom, removing the bra from her bikini and getting herself topless in the pool. As the sole guest in the hotel, Eunbi was now just enjoying herself, going multiple times to the border of the pool and taking big jumps that made her fully-free boobs jiggle like jelly every time they touched the water. Eunbi looked like a sexy, stacked little mermaid as she navigated the entire pool under the water. The way her body, especially her hair, tits, legs and ass, moved was cinematic.

As Eunbi emerged from her long underwater dive, a bit of water splashed off the pool. But she was no longer alone, as a guy resting at the side of the pool appeared, his shirt now soaking wet thanks to her sudden reemergence happening in front of him. Eunbi panicked a little bit on the inside but tried to stay calm and use her problem-solving skills as an experienced woman who once led 11 girls on their road to stardom, instinctively covering her boobs as soon as she saw the man. "I'm sorry, I thought I was alone and no new guests would come to the hotel until 2 PM," she said, trying to explain the situation to the man without looking embarrassed.

"No need to be. I arrived earlier; sorry for disrupting you." You treated Eunbi very gently, making her calmer instantly. In the end, you were also shocked at how such a tiny woman could carry such a massive chest yet perform all those moves while swimming, as you didn't know anything about Eunbi's decade-long career as a well-rounded idol, the leader of a group that sold millions and is now pushing towards a solo career. She was just that short but very pretty girl you just met a minute ago at the pool of a hotel.

"You're so kind; how about you join me at the pool?" Eunbi politely asked as you put your tall body inside the pool while still fully clothed, sitting at the first step as you looked into Eunbi's eyes. You trembled a little as the water was quite cold, but Eunbi was already fully acclimated to it. Eunbi bumped her huge chest against yours, unveiling her real intentions as soon as you jumped in, giving you a first kiss you didn't know how to react to. 

"Can I touch them?" you asked, still shy, regarding Eunbi's massive knockers. "Of course, do it as you please; as you can see, I'm very proud of them," Eunbi said back. You placed your right hand on her left boob, groping it softly. Eunbi climbed up a step at the pool and put her tits right in your face, as your hands were now joining your mouth in her right boob. You then firmly grabbed both, alternating between sucking each of her breasts. Then you buried your face on her torso, licking it all the way up to her neck.

Eunbi spiced things up, holding her left boob right in your mouth and letting both of you tongue her nipple while kissing each other. She then placed your head between her breasts and let you motorboat her, stopping it as she placed her hands on your neck and pushed you further into the pool. Eunbi sat on your lap to show off more of her body, as she was much shorter than you, who could get yourself on your knees and still have your head appear over the water. You firmly grabbed her big tits and continued to suck them just as you had started at the pool's border. 

However, your little mermaid already had her next move in mind, as Eunbi detached from your body and started swimming away from you before moving back and yanking your shorts down in just one move. You were impressed at how such a short girl could be so strong. as Eunbi was now swimming fully underwater. The frigid waters meant your cock was still flaccid, but Eunbi was about to change it in a hurry, as just her strong touch was enough to activate your erection despite the adverse conditions. Fully submerged and on her knees, Eunbi looked at your boner with lots of lust, taking it in her mouth as soon as she could. 

You watched as bubbles came out of Eunbi's mouth and nose. Her cock-sucking felt like a shark biting you under the water. "Damn, how can she do this with such ease?" you thought. Eunbi wasn't holding anything back, already inserting your cock deep in her throat from the get-go. When she finally ran out of air, she emerged kissing you, but with her right hand still masturbating your manhood.

It didn't take even 5 seconds before Eunbi was submerged again. You loved the way her wet hair waved under the water. You had never had any sexual activities under the water before, yet there was this tiny girl with big boobs giving you deepthroats underwater without even flinching. As Eunbi increased the heat in your crotch and you acclimated yourself to the water temperature, you took your shirt off and got yourself fully naked.

Eunbi abandoned her kneeling position and was floating and swimming, giving you a view of her firm ass and her strong thighs in motion as she continued to suck you off. You took a more active approach this time, thursting up to start fucking her mouth. Once again, Eunbi barely flinched and invited your challenge with open arms, performing an underwater gag as she pushed your cock as deep in her mouth as she could, and more bubbles came out of it. Eunbi then got back on her knees and pushed harder, sucking your cock more and more violently while bubbling under the water.

Eunbi had stayed a full minute and a half underwater, but it didn't even take two seconds before she was ready to go again. This time, Eunbi stayed on her feet even if the pool's depth was basically her height, slowly sliding down until your shaft finally aligned with her tits. Eunbi enveloped your cock like a sausage between a pair of buns, smirking every time your throbbing tip emerged out of her fun bags, her hair touching the pool's floor as she increased her tits grip at each fucking. You start moving your hips as Eunbi closes her eyes to not let the sun hit them, taking a more passive approach and letting you have fun with her knockers.

As Eunbi emerges after a minute-long underwater titfucking, she kisses you and already thinks about her next step, making sure her hands don't give your cock a single second of rest. You want to appreciate her massive boobs you just fucked, jiggling them with your hands before you suck them like a needy baby. Eunbi moans a little as she takes her thong off for your cock to impale her pussy. You grab Eunbi by her ass, pushing your hard phallus inside her as water comes out of her cunt. Eunbi bounces slowly as she moans. She never thought one of the new experiences she would take from Hawaii would be getting screwed underwater. She tries to slowly adjust to it as she clings onto you, feeling lots of friction in her pussy. 

You try to increase Eunbi's arousal by jumping your mouth right into her tits and sucking her erected nipples. You're now in control, pumping harder and deeper each time inside her walls. Eunbi tries to put her feet at the border, but you push her closer to the center of the pool, increasing the difficulty while banging her faster. 

"Put that big finger in my ass," Eunbi demands as she has yet to adjust to underwater penetration, trying to heat herself up. It turns out it works perfectly. As soon as you spread her cheeks and put your middle finger up in her anus, her initial pain goes away. Your left hand now grabs her right boob alongside her right hand, while your right hand stays underwater, poking her tiny asshole. "Nice boy sticking your finger in my tight ass, ahhhh. Oh God, your cock is so huge." Eunbi was feeling it as you pounded her with your erect 7-inch, her tits now fully underwater as she was just enjoying you doing all the work.

You pulled out of Eunbi but kept your finger stuck deep in her asshole, sensing that she enjoyed it a lot. Eunbi submerged her head halfway underwater as you lifted her right leg for an easier entrance in her pussy, holding the entire weight of her body in your cock and her left leg that barely touched the floor. Eunbi had to remerge as soon as you inserted your prick back in her cunt, grabbing her right thigh, now fully lifted in the air. She found that position to be much more enjoyable, giving you the loudest and hardest moans she could. You groped her left tit hard while letting the other one freely bounce, kissing her while doing so.

Eunbi was now essentially floating as the pounding got harder. You fingered her pussy, leading to faster and more acure moans that got even better once you stuck a pair of fingers inside it alongside your cock. Eunbi was now very weak as her body started to drown, her big tits dropping almost at your navel. You pushed her up, never taking your cock out of her pussy, giving her a pair of long and deep thursts to help her move up. Eunbi, however, was really enjoying it, as she ducked her head underwater shortly after to watch your cock beautifully pump her pussy, even if her huge tits were blocking most of the view and the mauling you were giving her meant she couldn't last long without going back up.

Eunbi took your cock out of her fuckhole and dove her body fully underwater, grabbing your dick by her right hand while upside down, starting a blowjow under the water that quickly evolved into a 69. Bubbles came out of her tightened mouth every time she pushed your cock up. The heat you put in her pussy and the pounding she had just taken were too much, as she lasted for just 30 seconds before going back up. You pushed yourself to the border and caught her by surprise, already inserting your cock back in, before she adjusted for a better angle, pounding her in reverse with your right hand, making fast moves around her clit while her boobs freely jiggled at each thurst you gave her. Eunbi bent over a little, as you now grabbed her by the shoulder, and she played with the water, putting her mouth just at the pool's level to release bubbles on it.

"Damn, that big cock is stretching me so good," Eunbi said as you now locked her hands on her back, pushing her up and letting the little waves of the pool hit right between her tits, who were bouncing so hard she had to grab them with both hands to keep them contained, before realizing it was futile as the harder you pumped her cunt, the more out of control those melons would get. You were the only one who could keep them in control every time you placed your hands in those magnificent Eunbigs to grope them.

You bent your knees just enough so Eunbi's body could be fully underwater, increasing the pace of the pounding while doing so. You now wrap your hands around Eunbi's soft but toned belly, touching it, and wonder what it would look like with a baby inside. You were engaged but had never felt such an urge to have kids with your fiancé, as you would rather wait to consummate your marriage first, but as she recovered from the jet leg at your dorm, you were having thoughts of impregnating someone else. Eunbi was getting completely ragdolled underwater as your left hand wrapped around her tits while you had all your right-hand fingers except the thumb inside her cunt, which was now wetter than the water itself.

You sat on the pool's floor as you grabbed Eunbi's body, thursting upwards like a piston in a car motor, but hitting Eunbi's "valve" every single time as you could only hear her moaning through bubbles popping out of the water every time your cock reached her cervix. Eunbi's juices coated all over your cock as you kept poking her pussy with your fingers, holding her tits as she started having an underwater orgasm. You pushed her head up to hear her fast and loud moans, increasing the speed of your hands in her clit, before pulling out and using her tits as a "washer" for her juices (not like you needed it), putting Eunbi on her knees as you slid your cock between her juicy melons.

Eunbi ducked her head underwater to lick your tip every time your shaft reached the top of her chest. You watched everything from above, in awe at her beautiful silhouete that made her look like a statuesque black-haired mermaid. Eunbi was so deep in the pool that her hair was below your navel once she took your cock fully in her mouth before finally needing to get somewhere. She turned around and swam away from you, moving back to the border of the pool and reaching the three steps that were there. Her tits rested on the upper step while she placed her hands on the middle one and got her knees in the deepest one, bending her ass over to you.

You gave Eunbi's little trimmed bush a tap as you put your cock back in her pussy. Gosh, she looked amazing on all fours, perfect to get pounded balls deep like a submissive toy. And you did just like that, smashing your balls against her meaty clit from the start. Eunbi was back at her strongest now and could take it with ease despite having her head underwater. You wish you could hear any words coming from her sexy mouth, but every time she bubbled under the water, you just assumed she wanted you to go harder.

"Bury that big dick deep inside me." Eunbi emerged, saying those words and proving you correct. You leaned your weight against her body, making her scream at each thrust, always giving a good amount of attention to her milkers. "Perfect, keep going; hit me just like that," Eunbi approved as she dived back in to watch your cock stretching her cunt out, letting out a big smile you weren't able to see. You went rougher, mounting on Eunbi as your cock pounded her just at water level, making big splashes and waves every time you went in and out of her pussy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," was all Eunbi could say as the water waves hit her clit at full speed alongside your cock. Eunbi fingered her cunt as your balls hit her nails, her tits sagging as gravity pushed them down underwater while her erected nipples perfectly pointed to the floor. Eunbi descended to watch the scene underwater, holding herself just by her left arm as you grabbed her right tit with the same hand, then freeing herself to watch her melons bounce right on her face, beding her whole body in a full arch.

"Holy shit you're so flexible. How did you manage not to fall while I was fucking you?" You were amazed by Eunbi's skills. "Well, I've been a dancer since I was a teenager. And just like a mermaid, I can sing too, even Underwater" she said. "I've been here for nearly half an hour and didn't even ask your name," you said. "Eunbi. Kwon Eunbi," she replied. "Are you from Hawaii?" you continued. "No, I come from Korea," she answered back.

As you too chatted a little and discovered more about Eunbi's career, you learned how she started as a backup dancer who climbed all the way up the ladder, joined a group called "Eyes One," and now has become a solo act in Korea. Her story was quite compelling to you, but her hands massaging your cock were even more so. Just like she did during her career, Eunbi climbed up the pool's steps, this time ready to sit on your big cock, sliding it in with ease as she gave you a passionate kiss and you grabbed her ass.

But you want to test Eunbi's recently discovered dancer flexibility and see if she was truly a mermaid like she claimed to be by pushing her back into the water. She reacts instinctively, placing her left hand at the border and her right foot at the step, while her left foot lands at your shoulder as it lifts in the air. "I know you can float, my little mermaid; let's also see how high you can moan—I mean, sing," you tell her. Eunbi is a little scared but starts to detach from her supports, floating in the water as you stare at her eyes and put your left hand in her waist and your right hand in her boobs.

Eunbi is up to the challenge, even the hardest. It's in her personality. After being the second mother to 11 children, this is easy for her. She takes a deep breath and dives her entire body underwater, leaving just her legs up as you hold her by the waist. After all, she had been training for years to be a diver. Eunbi covers the sun from reaching her eyes with her beautiful black hair. You start pounding her in missionary as she lets out a massive moan that shakes the whole water surrounding you. Eunbi gets to the bottom of the pool, placing her hands at her clit as she lets your thursts press her against the floor, every moan now leading to massive bubbles coming out of her mouth.

It turns out that this is much more difficult for you than it is for her. Your grip on her body is way loosier than at the other positions, leading your cock to slip out a couple times. You grab Eunbi's thighs as she gives you a helping hand to insert your cock back in. Eunbi just watched as you pushed her body closer to her while her jiggly boobs continued to bounce even all the way deep in the trenches of the pool. Eunbi now had her head fully rested as she took a huge pounding. You stared at her fit belly and massive tits, imagining what they would look like with her carrying a baby.

Eunbi finally ran out of air but still managed to be strong enough to not let your cock slip out as she emerged, taking control as you sat on the middle step and she started to ride you. Eunbi made splashes in your cock at each bounce while you searched for her asshole to finger once more. A helicopter flew over your heads, making a lot of noise, but you barely paid attention to it as Eunbi mermaid-esque singing moans were much more attractive. She then switched sides, riding you in reverse as she held her hands on your chest while hers couldn't stop bouncing. Eunbi then let you take control as she lied her tiny body on top of you, letting you splash her clit each time you thursted up into her pussy.

"Harder," Eunbi said just this word. It was enough for you to understand as you groped her tits and pumped her with all your might. Your thrusts were now so hard that they were splashing water all over Eunbi's hips and even her belly. Her tits got spanked, fondled, slapped, and pressed as you used your whole arsenal of moves to please Eunbi's best assets.

"Let's get some sunlight." Sensing you two had stayed long enough underwater, Eunbi looked for something else, heading towards the same chair from which she had started the day tanning herself. Eunbi got herself in all fours, screaming as soon as your tip touched her sensitive walls. The exposure to the sun seemed to have unlocked many more powers in your mermaid, as while her pussy was much easier to penetrate now, it also got much tighter. Eunbi invited you to fuck her as hard as you could, firmly grabbing her butt as you went full force deep into her pussy.

You rewarded Eunbi for her tightness as you let her taste the juice from your cock. Her shark-biting blowjob was still present above the water, as her mouth was warmer than ever. You couldn't resist her warmth and went on to fuck her face, grabbing her by her wet hair before she took a few turns sucking your balls. You kept Eunbi in the same position as your cock felt like it was about to explode each time you got to the depths of her pussy. You pushed her body a little upwards to let her boobs bounce harder. 

"Oh, that's good. Give that big cock to me, deep inside my pussy," she whispered to you, holding your right hand as it grabbed her ass. You couldn't see much of it underwater, but now you had a full view of how meaty her pussy lips were. "Put that magic finger up my ass; please my ass as you fuck my pussy harder," Eunbi demanded as you inserted your large thumb in her tight anus. "Harder, harder, harder," a whispering out of breath Eunbi said, twisting around the chair as her boobs got grabbed.

"Please cum all over my face," she said. Mermaids truly could predict the future, given that as soon as you said those words, a rush hit your cock, forcing you to pull out quickly to meet her demands. "Give me your face," you said as your seeds hit Eunbi's cheeks and lips, with some even going to her hair or being wasted on the floor. Your cock still released a few drops of cum long after the first burst, almost as if Eunbi's pussy had given it a massive boost.

"Turn around," you demanded of Eunbi, letting her tits now face you. Despite just cumming, you looked more insatiable than ever, grabbing Eunbi's right leg and lifting it up as your left hand rested in her belly. Your desire to put a baby on it had reached its maximum, making you forget any thoughts about your fiancé. You only wanted Eunbi. But just like her, you had to climb a long ladder. "I know you still got some cum in there, baby. Next, I want you to cover my tits," Eunbi demanded, griding her teeth as you looked at her face full of your dried-up sperm.

"Deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper," she kept repeating in an almost militaristic manner. You wanted to disobey her orders and just finish inside her, but you knew she wasn't an ordinary woman and you would be in trouble the moment you didn't follow her instructions. "GIVE ME ALL THAT COCK, OH GOD!" Eunbi screamed, sensing your second shot was just moments away. "Make me cum; make my pussy explode all over your cock. Make my pussy cum, AHHHHH," Eunbi kept asking as you pressed her fully lifted right leg into her nipples. You were hitting her best spots, and her pussy was indeed about to explode. "Right there, right there," she kept repeating, telling you where to hit the correct spots.

"Can you feel that pussy squeezing all over your cock? Push it all the way in. Earn it." Eunbi wanted you to prove to her that you were among the best. You started getting out of breath, feeling as if Eunbi's pussy wrapping your cock for nearly an hour had drained half the years of your life. But Eunbi just wanted you to keep pushing, worried at the prospect of Minju arriving at any moment and finding her in such a position as she was expected to come in around 15 minutes.

You closed Eunbi's legs and pushed your cock from behind, fixating your thoughts on the jiggles of her tits. You were almost there. "God, you're growing; your cock is getting bigger." Eunbi wasn't lying, as her mermaid powers had turned your 7-inch into a 9-inch the longer she went under the sun. "Make me cum," she was the one saying it, but you were the one who was ready to unload, as Eunbi dropped her back at the chair, giving you an amazing full-body view that was too much for you to handle: her wet hair, her cum-covered face, her massive milkers and big areolas, her round belly, her little bush, and her bikini marks.

Eunbi sat and put her tits at your shooting range, grabbing them so gravity couldn't drop them down. "Come on, give it to me," she demanded as you groaned, ready to shoot. Her left boob got most of the milk, with even a bit slipping into her side tattoo, while the right one only got a few sparks. Eunbi grabbed her cum-covered melons, licking your white protein from her left tit. She got back on all fours and then ordered, as soon as she got your cock back into a full erection with just a single, powerful mermaid deepthroat, "Stick that big dick deep up that cunt until you cum.".

You couldn't even last 10 seconds this time. Eunbi's pussy clenched your cock so hard you painted her walls with semen in a snap. Never had you felt such a powerful ejaculation; your foreskin burned, your glans were so hyperextended it felt like they would explode at any second, the veins of your shaft bled, and you felt like she would never let you pull out, as her walls bit you like a shark to a point you felt like they would slice your dick in half. When you finally managed to, your once powerful 9-inch dick had been pulverized and athopied into a soft and sorry excuse of a cock.

"I guess we meet again later," you said, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt of your short dick that had been fully drained by that little powerful mermaid. As you disappeared out of Eunbi's sights, a beautiful, foxy girl arrived. Eunbi greeted Minju, who responded with a kiss on her cheek, right at the point where you had ejaculated on her. "Unnie, I think there is some white cream on your face," Minju said. "My bad, Minju, I had forgotten I had just taken more sunscreen," Eunbi lied.

For you, there was no next time. By the time you returned to the hotel's public area, Eunbi was gone. Maybe she dove back into the cold and deep waters of the Pacific Ocean and went back to her mermaid life. But you were never the same. The vacation you made to propose to your fiancé became about a tiny girl with big tits who was the only thing you could think about. Every time you looked at the hotel's pool, flashes of Eunbi invaded your head.

You reluctantly proposed to your fiancé in Hawaii, but as you arrived home, you had already taken an U-turn, as she spotted you booking tickets to Korea by yourself without telling her. "Why are you going to Korea? We just had our vacation," she asked.

"I think we should take a break," you said, packing your begs and heading to Korea, enchanted by the serenades of a little mermaid.

I decided to do this one as a gift, off-schedule smut. I have been thinking of doing a smut of Eunbi in Hawaii since the moment she announced her vacation with Minju, but wasn't finding the plot. The moment I saw her in that bikini, it finally came to my mind. Although @thelibrarian69 beat me to it and did a smut using the same pool scenario just a couple days ago, I think our smuts are fundamentally different, as I tried to put more emphasis on the underwater sex stuff and the characterization of Eunbi as a mermaid, while also adding references to her career. Since "Underwater" is literally Eunbi's signature song, no one better than her to be the protagonist of a smut that mostly takes place underwater.

[codnriddlewhore]

Don't do this | a Tom Riddle oneshot

A/N: HII soo this is my first attempt at fics, dont hesitate to say anything, good or bad

k have fun :))

tags: professor tom riddle/professor reader, marriage, angst, horcruxes, sorry if i forget any

wc: 1,584

They've been together, inseparable for 3 years, married for 2 and a half. 

Tom saw her as an equal as much as someone like him could, she entranced his very being. They talked about subjects he was interested in, in a very objective and intelligent way and he was in awe when he realised he found a match, someone that could understand his fascinations and obsessions. She mostly didn't share them but she was open, he could ask her at 2 in the morning which one of the unforgivable 

curses she'd use to get information from someone and she'd genuinely give it some thought. 

Her fascinations lay more in the zoological department, muggle and magical. She spent hours in forests and jungles, the beings holding her attention for hours. Though, like Tom, she found it hard to open up to people and find like-minded individuals not just regarding creatures but life in general. When he asked to come with her on one of her shorter research-trips, she felt her body and sould levitate. Her greatest wish has always been to grow old with someone loving by her side, someone who she'd love back with her whole self.  Is it him? She hoped so and prayed every night.

He felt the same when she asked about his sketches and faveorite books. Tom Riddle, the usually selfish and greedy man, suddenly interested in the eccentric and always joyful zoology professor? He cursed himself for it, a good 5 months before talking to her for the first time. 

Now she is staying at his home in the country, a dark penthouse by the sea. To be specific, it is not as dark now, he found that she brought more light into it than any possible lamp. 

As dreamy as this may sound, but like in every married life, there's always small and petty arguments. Like now, her sitting in bed and reading, not giving him half an ounce of attention while he looked at her from the doorframe. 

He mentioned horcruxes and the sheer idea of immortality a few times, even on the day they met, but she simply laughed it off. Who would want to be soulles? It seemed absurd. 

But yesterday evening, when he explained that he wants to go through with his plan of doing so, she couldn't bare to give him more than a gulp and ignorance. He was being mean.

"Apologise, so we can spend at least the evening as a couple. It's cold to sleep without you in my arms." Tom meant it genuinely, but his tone was rough. He didn't understand her problem.

She simply kept on reading, like he didn't even exist. He groaned in annoyance and that did it. 

"I'm sorry, did my back damage your knife in any way? Do excuse me", he winced and didn't know if it was because of her closing her book shut loudly or her words. Probably the latter. 

"What do you mean?"

She exhaled in confusion. Did he actually not see the problem? 

"Tom. You outright told me that you want to split your soul from your body and divide it into 7 different parts. Oh and that you want to live forever. Do you not understand why I'm upset?"

"I'm going to be honest, no, I don't. I find you're being ridiculous, this is a marvelous discovery. "

"Well it is, which on the other hand doesn't mean you have to partake in it!" she says as she sits up straighter in the bed. 

He sees that and mirrors her reaction, standong up straight and putting his hands in the pockets of his pyjama pants. 

"Why not? It would help me be more focused on my work and goals and I wouldn't be occupied with unnecessary matters."

"Like me?" His wife didn't know if she regretted saying that, but it came out in the same second he ended his sentence.

Quiet.

"Don't do this. Of course not like you, you matter a huge deal. This would benefit me in every part of my life, I'd be the most powerful wozard that ever lived. There's been noone else more powerful than Death in the history of wizardry and it could be your husband, how are you not the least bit proud?"

"Proud!? You want me to be proud!? What else should I do, throw you a party and congratulate you on a life of pure damnation!?"

She was now standing approximately 1 horizontal man away from him, on a good way to become furious. 

"Damnation? I hope you mean admiration and being seen with respect, fear and devotion for the rest of time."

"Tommy?" She only called him that when she felt truly helpless or frustrated.

"Yes darling?"

Her voice went almost inaudible, "Where am I in that wonderful way of living you so dream of?"

"By my side." He was sure of that and knew he needed her in this. She'd be his queen in the whole thing.

She breaks into a series of scoffs, some distrustful and some humorous, she found the situation quite absurb. What were they even discussing? 

"I'll age! I'll age and be old and grey and wrinkly and youll still be thirty! It'll look ridiculous."

Was it embarrassing he hadn't thought of that? 

"There's plenty of spells to slow down aging." Stupid Riddle.

"Great Havens. If we put that aside, what about your soul? You'll be a shell of the man you truly are. How do you explain that?"

"What? Thats foolish, I'll be myself!"

"You'll be a soulless man! Only goal driven and shutting out everything else! We'll never again talk about life and the universe late at night, you'll never again appreciate me making you tea when you forget the time in your study and we'll never joke about the future and raising an army of baby wizards who we'll name after the imaginary friends we had as children. We'll never go to the city again and you'll never pick out a flower I adore and buy it behind my back to surprise me later although I'd always catch you and we'll never buy cheesy and ironic books for each other in that beautiful old book store we love. Now call me crazy and soft, but I happen to cherish these things."

It was hard to look him in the eyes during saying all that, but she needed to get her point across. She also despised herself for tearing up at this very moment, walking towards him with a pointed finger.

"Tommy, I swore to support and love you in everything you do, but- but taking the soul of the man I love from me-", she hesitated, wanting to stop her voice from breaking and breath from hitching.

He gulped. This was unfair.

"Don't do this."

"-taking that; now that's too much for me. I can't stand behind that."

"You're being cruel."

"I'm not the only one."

That stung, it stung them both at the same time. In the end, they were both just people. She was now standing very few inches infront of him, pointing at his chest, barely holding herself together. 

"You know what? Do it. I wont stop you or hold you back. That was never my goal."

"I don't understand. Forst you can't stand behind it then you say go ahead."

"If this makes you happy, what I truly doubt, you'll do it without me."

That made his dinner almost come up slightly, it was never an option. 

"You can't just leave now, you know I love you. Do you not love me anymore? Is that what you're trying to say?", he knew it spounded mean but he hoped to get the point across, he was genuinely wondering.

"Oh don't twist this. I'll always love you with every part of me, body, soul, mind and all, as long as I live, that's why I can't-

that's why I can't watch you do this..."

"So what are you going to do? Just leave? You know you can't do that." He didn't quite believe that she would. Was it cowardly to start a fight rather than comfort her or express his own feelings? He'd have to look into that.

She breathed in, deeper than ever before. It was important that she stays collected now.

"Fine. I'll leave when you do it. That way you wont miss me."

Tom Riddle never got dizzy, he was too aware of his surroundings for that. Yet, now he was holding  onto the doorframe next to him with such strength, that his knuckles turned paper white. He was also afraid to touch her, even breath in her direction, because she might fully disappear already.

"You can't...you can't be serious..." It was more of a whispered plea than a threat. 

She on the other hand, felt that she needed to touch him or else this stupid boat of too many emotions for both of them would sink to the bottom of the deepest point in the ocean. His cold cheeks warmed at the touch of her palms. In that very moment he also exhaled briefly, still finding deep-rooted comfort in her, even at this time. Her eyes filled with tears, to the brim this time and she ignored them, it was no time to sob now. Her right hand caressed his hair; like it was any other moment they shared before.

"I'm sorry Tommy. I really wanted us to get grey and wrinkly together."

to be continued...

[captainlunaxmen]

First Sight

Dark!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Here we are! Sorry for the wait, but I thought I had everything planned out and... I didn't, so I'm sorry I made you wait this long❤️❤️❤️

Let me know what you think, please, because this is my first time writing a dark fic, so feedback is highly encouraged in this case🙏🙏🙏

Summary: Y/n has been part of the Covey since she can remember, when her best friend Lucy Gray is chosen for the Hunger Games her world is threatened, she need to stay strong for her family. She's never been one to love attention. She never wants to draw too much anyway, gladly leaving the stage to her best friend, but she managed to catch someone's attention anyway. A young, ambitious man from the Capitol saw her for just a moment, but that was enough to make an obsession grow inside him.

Warnings: dark fic, obsession, harassment, smut, rape.

Tag list:

@7s3ven @wintersforest @tallulah477 @diannnnsss @that-one-person-blue @kemo19

"Are you sure you want to wear that?" Y/n asks her best friend as they get ready to, yet, another reaping day.

"Of course." Lucy Gray answers, simply as ever, "at least I'll look pretty when they say my name."

"If." Y/n reminds her, "if they say your name."

"After all that mess with Billy Taupe? Mayfair will surely ask her daddy to pull some strings." Lucy Gray slightly scoffs.

"Maybe not..."

"You're too optimistic sometimes." She smiles at her friends, fixing the colourful skirt down.

"I just don't want to think about the worst." Y/n replies, tightening the belt on her own dress.

"Better get used to it."

They share a look, one filled with hope yet resignation too. They smile at each other and walk hand in hand out their home to get to the town square for the annual reaping.

--------------

They hold each other's hand until Lucy Gray's name is announced, and after a quick squeeze, she lets her friend's hand go to walk to the stage.

Y/n's breathing is heavy and frantic. She can't believe it, and when she notices Billy Taupe trying to talk to Lucy Gray, she has to contain herself from hitting him with a shoe... or two.

But her eyes are on her best friend walking up, and then she notices something in her hand. Y/n has to contain her laughter when Lucy Gray puts that something in Mayfair's dress. She can guess it was either a snake or a small lizard. Without much reaction to Mayfair's screams and the mayor's order to help his daughter Lucy Gray walk the stairs, but before she could get on, the mayor slaps her right in the face, making her fall Y/n's feet move on their own, she need to be blocked by a Peacekeeper to realise what was happening. She looks behind her to the rest of the Covey, scared and helpless. So the only thing that comes up to her mind is the only things that always help them all.

Music.

Y/n sings the first verse of one of their favourite songs, and when the other Covey follow Lucy Gray stands up and sings too.

She sends a sad smile to her family before walking away with Jessup and the Peacekeepers.

"Clear the square!" One of the Peacekeepers yells, and everyone starts to walk away to their own business.

"Let's go home." Y/n hugs Maude Ivory, and motion to the rest to follow her.

"Will we ever see her again?" CC asks.

"One thing about Lucy Gray is that she should never be underestimated." She replies, "So... she still hasn't sung her last song."

--------------

Coriolanus Snow is a collected man. Whatever happens to him, he tries his best not to show any reaction to it. But he almost can't help the gasp after he saw the girl from 12. He noticed how she wanted to reach her friend after the mayor slapped her.

Some people would dare say it's love at first sight, Coriolanus doesn't exactly know what to believe, he never felt like that before, he feels like all he could do all day is think of her, just that and it would be almost enough for him... only having her would satisfy him properly.

But he can't risk it... he can't risk his winning for someone he only saw for mere seconds.

He needs to keep his eyes on the real goal.

--------------

When he got home that day and talked to Tigris, he thought he left the girl in the back of her mind.

"I can't even imagine how her family must feel... that girl, did you see her?" Tigris asks, "her eyes when that man slapped Lucy Gray..."

"Yeah... she was ready to jump in and defend her." Coriolanus says casually, "she sang for her."

"I bet they sang a lot together... both of them got a beautiful voice." Tigris guesses, sadness evident in her voice.

"Beautiful indeed." Coriolanus whispers.

Now, his mind is back on her.

That nameless girl from 12. How did she manage to strike him like that? How she stepped out of line to reach her friend, how she sang for her. What was it?

"You okay, Coryo?" Tigris snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Who do you think she was?" He asks.

"Who?" Tigris is confused.

"That girl, the one who sang for Lucy Gray." He specifies.

"Oh... uhm.. I don't know. Her sister? Or maybe a friend, I don't know." She answers, still confused by her cousin's question. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason." Coriolanus shakes his head, "Goodnight, Tigris."

Without waiting an answer he walks to his bedroom, gets ready for bed and lies on it with one thought in mind.

Surprisingly, not the Hunger Games.

No.

The nameless girl from 12.

--------------

Y/n helped Maude Ivory carry the small television their neighbours landed them so they could keep up with the games and, most importantly, Lucy Gray.

"Remember you have to babysit their babies this week, okay?" Y/n tells the young girl as they plug the television in.

"Of course, are you going to sell your bread?"

"Yes, I left some dough to rise this morning. By tonight, it'll be ready to bake." She assures her.

"Is it on?" CC comes in followed by Tam Amber.

"I think... if I do this." Y/n hits the box hard, and suddenly the screen turns on.

"Careful!" Maude Ivory shouts.

"He told me it needs it sometimes. It's okay." Y/n waves her off as the screen finally shows some movements, still no sound, but it's still something.

"Who is that?" CC asks, as a man appears on the screen wearing a high-collared suit and gelled hair, "is he a clown?"

"Could be..." Y/n sighs.

"Where is he?" Tam Amber asks, getting closer.

"No idea... there are bars behind him... I think..." Y/n tries to answer, but the scene is not clear yet, so she hits the television again.

"Y/n!"

"See? Now it's better." Y/n nonchalantly says, "seems like a cage... wait..."

"There's people inside." CC notices, "are those the tributes?"

"Oh god... probably."

"Can you see Lucy Gray?" Tam Amber asks.

"There... I think she's the only one wearing so much colour." Muade Ivory points at a point in the back.

"Yes, that's her... who's that with her?" Y/n moves closer to the screen, "he looks too cleaned up to be a tribute."

"No idea." CC says.

The host notices them too and apparently asks them to get closer.

Y/n looks more attentively at the guy, inspecting him now closer to the camera, it's clear he's not from the districts.

"Could it be someone from the Capitol?" The little one suggests.

"He could be... but why is he in there?" Y/n sighs, frustrated, "damn it, why can't we hear anything?"

"Y/n! I'm so sorry!" Barb yells from the kitchen.

Y/n is immediately on her feet running to her.

"What happ-" she starts but stops as soon as she see the bowl with the dough she prepared on the floor, "how?"

"I was cleaning and I accidentally hit it. I'm so sorry." Barb Azure explains, apologising again.

"It's..." Y/n lets out a puff of air, "it's okay, I can still save some. Don't worry."

"I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, really." She immediately pick up what she can from the floor, "I can save some. We'll just sell a little less than usual, tomorrow I'll make more."

"I'm..."

"Don't, it's okay, I promise. Go see Lucy Gray on TV, c'mon." She nudges the girl and kneel down to clean, " go."

Y/n watches Barb Azure disappear in the other room, takes a deep breath and goes back to work.

--------------

They managed with selling the bread, the milk, the occasional jewellery Y/n makes and the performance at the Hob to survive.

Y/n haven't been sleep well since Lucy Gray entered the Arena. She's glad Jessup and her managed to escape the toher tributes and found somewhere to hide. But Y/n can't help the anxiety devouring her everyday, she tries to ease the Covey, making them distracted with everything she could think of, but even singing and dancing isn't the same.

Y/n decided to forbid them from watching the games after Jill's, she thinks her name was, death and Reaper lined up the corpses of the others. She didn't want to risk them seeing Lucy Gray among them... she doesn't even know is she herself could.

But tonight Y/n feels like she needs to watch, she has to, for Lucy Gray, a way to be with her. She tries to spot her in the arena, and when the screen show Coral and Treech finding her in a air vent, Y/n stands immediately getting closer to the screen, and needs to hold in a scream when Coral manages to male her friend fall.

Out of her hiding space.

Back in the arena.

Suddenly a giant tank is lowered into the arena Y/n feels her breath stop. Nothing good could come out of there, nothing good comes from the Capitol.

The little girl from 8 get closer, thinking it's their signal they're going home, but unfortunately the tank breaks and thousands of colourful snakes creep out covering her small figure, most likely killing her.

They all run, run to a higher ground, the boy from 4 falls and the snakes caught up with him.

Lucy Gray and Coral run, while Reaper lets the snake take him.

Y/n holds her breath as she watches Coral say something to Lucy Gray, unfortunately they never managed to fix the sound so she can't hear them, but she can understand when Coral is dead, as the snakes tie themselves around her.

That leaves Lucy Gray the last one... she's won.

"What..."

Why aren't they letting her out? Usually they stop once there's only one left.

Lucy Gray keeps backing away from the snakes, and Y/n can see her mouth moving, she doesn't hear, but she can guess she's singing. Usually snakes there in 12 like music, maybe she's trying it with the Capitol's ones too.

When Lucy Gray's face points direct the camera it's clear ad the day that she's singing, with all the strength she has.

"Let her out." Y/n whispers.

Suddenly, the screen changes signaling that Lucy Gray indeed won the Hunger Games.

"Oh my god!" Y/n can't help but scream, she doesn't care if everyone is already asleep.

"What's going on?" Tam Amber walks in, sleepy face and all, followed by Maude Ivory.

"She won!" Y/n screams again.

"Lucy Gray won?!" Moude Ivory immediately runs to hug Y/n.

"She did it!"

"Does that mean she's coming home?" CC asks, he too arrived after hearing all the noise, Barb Azure too.

"I think so." Y/n nods, smiling like never before, a heavy burden is finally off her shoulders and she can let out a sigh of relief, "she's coming home."

--------------

"Your life has just begun." Sejanus tells him as they both travel to district 12, "you're gonna do great. We're both gonna do great."

"Just be careful, okay?" Coriolanus says to him, "it's a different world out here."

"Look at the bright side." He simply replies, and Coriolanus sends him a questioning look, "she might be there."

"Who are you talking about?"

"I heard you and Lucy Gray talking once." He starts, "you asked about the girl who sang for her at the reaping ceremony."

"I.." Coriolanus is caught off guard.

"You're lucky, Ma always told me stories when I was younger about love at first sight." He explains, "the way you ask more and more about her... you can't fool me." He lets out a small chuckle.

"And if she's not there?" Coriolanus asks.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"What if they killed Lucy Gray and she just doesn't want to have anything to do with me? How about that?" He challenges.

"They wouldn't. She was a hit, Coryo. There's no reason for them to kill her." Sejanus tells him, "so you know her name?"

Of course he does, it's the very first thing he asked Lucy Gray. He's been reciting her name since he learned it.

"Y/n." He smiles as he says it.

--------------

"You're singing with me tonight." Lucy Gray warns Y/n, as they gather the instruments they need for tonight's performance, the first since Lucy Gray got back.

"I am... so not doing it." Y/n replies, shaking her head.

"Why not?" She pouts.

"Because I... I'm not." Y/n simply answer, not meeting her eyes.

But Lucy Gray doesn't give up so easily, she tries to make eye contact with her friend, she knows she wouldn't resist.

"Give me a good reason." Lucy Gray challenges again.

"Because... The people want you." Y/n tells her, "you're better at singing than me."

"That's not true." Maude Ivory chimes in, "they loved you."

"Thank you..." Y/n says sarcastically, "I'm not doing it."

"Oh c'mon, I got back, think of it as a welcome back present!" Lucy Gray nudges her friend, "pleeeease."

"Nope, I was almost fainting the whole time I was on stage." Y/n shake her head once again, "not gonna happeen" she sings the last bit.

"You had to refuse me with that beautiful voice of yours too?" Lucy Gray accuses with a laugh.

"Yap." Y/n replies, "c'mon, we don't want tot be late."

"This is not the end." Lucy Gray warns her friend before taking her hand and then, with the rest of the Covey, head to the Hob.

--------------

Coriolanus couldn't contain himself, he can't wait to get out and find his girl.

She is his, he can't see it any other way.

They enter the Hob and Sejanus goes to get them a drink, while Coriolanus looks around, taking in the place, listening to the music.

His eyes find themselves on the stage, as a little girl goes to the mic.

"Is it hot in here?"

They must be the Covey Lucy Gray talked so much about, but he still can't spot Y/n. Where could she be?

The audience cheers loudly

"'Cause we're planning on heating it up a set more!" The girl screams, "the one, the only, Lucy Gray Baird!"

Coriolanus' ears perk up at her name, maybe his girl is with her.

Lucy Gray enters the stage, spinning with her guitar in hand, smiling as brightly as ever.

"Oh hey district 12, did you miss me?" She asks the audience, that immediately replies with a loud "Yes!"

"I bet you never expected to lay eyes on me again. And let me tell you, that goes both ways, but I am back. " She cheers, "I sure am back. Oh is that bottle there for me?" She asks pointing at a bottle of alcohol someone's holding up, " oh c'mon y'all, you know I gave up drinking when I was 12," she fakes complain and takes a sip, "just to clear my pipes, just to clear my pipes! Now, how about a song, uh?" Everyone cheers, happy, "but, I can't, you know." The audience lets out confused and discontent noises, Lucy Gray glances slightly at the side of the stage, in the dark Coriolanus can't see anything, "it's been a while and I don't feel like singing alone tonight. But I'm afraid, my sweet best friend, won't do me the favour... how about you help me convince her?"

The audience immediately burst into a wave of cheers and applauses.

"Do you want her?"

The cheering gets louder.

"Y/n!" Lucy Gray yells, "c'mon out, babes!"

"Y/n. Y/n. Y/n!" The audience chants.

And at last, she walks on the stage, glaring at her friend playfully.

Coriolanus heart skips a beat as he watch her walking to her friend, he never thought he could get more enamoured with her, but here she is, and he can't seem to take his eyes off her. The way she takes the guitar Lucy Gray offers her, the way she timidly smiles at the audience, once again glaring at her friend for putting her in this position.

"See? They love you!" Lucy Gray points at the audience, "now, let's show them how it's done!"

Lucy Gray nudges her friend with her hip as Y/n starts to play the guitar.

Coriolanus eyes are solely on her, and she isn't even aware of it, he can afford admiring her a little more before making her his.

--------------

Lucy Gray is the happiest since she managed to have Y/n sing and dance with her, but the moment he notices a familiar pair of eyes he freezes for an instant.

Coriolanus Snow is here in 12, and he's looking, no... he's staring at her friend.

She notices his weird interest in Y/n from the many unusual questions he made when they were talking. She didn't like how he was talking and asking about her friend like that, like he thought she was his already. She always dismissed it as a stupid sensation, maybe it's exactly that, just her sensation. He might like her, but nothing bad... not necessarily. She doesn't want to think bad of it.

Of course she told the Covey about everything that happened in the Capitol, she just didn't mention this particular thing, to protect her.

She take advantage of an instrumental break to tell Y/n.

"He's here." She says.

"Who?" Y/n asks, looking at the crowd, locking eyes with a blonde man.

"My mentor, the one I talked to you about." Lucy Gray answers.

"Is he blonde?" Y/n asks and Lucy Gray nods,"Why is he here?"

"No idea."

Y/n simply shrugs and keeps play while Lucy Gray sings, unfortunately their performance is cut short by Billy Taupe intervention.

"Fuck..." Y/n sighs, keeping playing, "it's not the first time he acts like that."

"I know you miss me, Lucy Gray." Billy Taupe drunkenly says getting closer to the stage, followed by Mayfair trying to stop him.

"You said you wouldn't play with them anymore." She complains.

Lucy Gray looks at the Covey rolling her eyes, Y/n rolls her own in agreement.

Suddenly Billy Taupe almost jumps on stage grabbing Lucy Gray's skirt.

"Don't touch me! After what you did, don't touch me." Lucy Gray orders him, kicking her foot to let him go of her skirt

"Y/n... Please, you're kind, you know you're all not the same without me." He moves to take Y/n's skirt now, "c'mon, make her see reason."

"Let go." Y/n tells him, she moves backwards but his grip makes her stumble and falls to the ground. Lucy Gray kneels to help her pull her skirt back.

A second later Billy Taupe is thrown to the side, making him lose his grip. The two girls look at the direction he was thrown, and they see that blonde man hitting him hard until another recruit stops him and takes him outside.

"Are you okay?" Lucy Gray asks, helping her friend to stand up.

"Yeah, yeah, all good." Y/n nods, "again, not the first time he acts like that."

"God.. I'm sorry.." the brunette says softly, picking up the guitar.

"Not your fault. Only his." She sighs, "I'm kinda glad your mentor was here, he was the only one to help."

" yeah, glad..."

"Is everything okay?" Y/n worries.

"Yeah, it's just weird seeing him here." Lucy Gray dismisses the question easily, "let's go home, c'mon"

"Okay.." Y/n isn't convinced, but decides to let it go for now, "c'mon ladies and gentlemen, let's get home."

"Wanna go practice some songs on the meadow, tomorrow?" Lucy Gray asks as they walk back home.

"I missed it so much, so of course!" Y/n cheerfully replies, earning a just as excited laugh from her friend.

--------------

Lucy Gray and Y/n played all afternoon in the meadow, like old times. It wasn't that long Lucy Gray stayed in the Capitol, but not knowing if she were to come back at all made it feel so much longer.

"I think this part should be a little slower, what do you think?" Y/n would ask after a while of playing 'The Hanging Tree'.

"This last part of the verse, you mean?" Lucy Gray checks, looking at the music sheets.

"Yeah, I think..."

Their heads snap behind them when they hear footsteps nearing.

"Sorry... we..." the same blonde man from the night before speaks, along a dark haired man, "they say we would find you out here."

"You're here... with that uniform.." Lucy Gray nervously chuckles.

"I thought they killed you." He simply says.

"Killed?" Y/n can't help the question.

"He... uhm.." his friend starts.

"I broke the rule to save her life." He answers, faking humbleness.

"The dean... Highbottom, got me on a train and gave me some money. He said you were sent to 8." Lucy Gray is quite confused.

"Change of plans." He would smile, "I'm Coriolanus Snow, by the way." He moves closer extending his hand for Y/n to take.

"She's Y/n, my best friend I told you about." Lucy Gray introduces her.

"Hi.." she shyly greets, taking his hand. She can't help the surprised "Oh..." When he, instead of shaking her hand, kisses the back of it.

"Nice to properly meet you, she talked a lot about you." Coriolanus charmingly smiles, "this is my friend, Sejanus."

"Nice to meet you," Lucy Gray shakes his hand with a bright smile.

"Nice to meet... you... too." Sejanus greets back with a sweet and kind smile.

They look at each other for a moment, just smiling. Y/n never saw he friend smiling like this with someone, she is so focused on her friend that she didn't notice Coriolanus still holding her hand, still looking at her.

"Oh sorry." Y/n finally takes notice of his hand and takes her own back, missing the pout forming on Coriolanus' face.

"All good." He whispers, "we quite enjoy the show yesterday."

"Oh.. yeah, yeah, yeah, it was great... until that guy came in." Sejanus agrees, nervously looking at Lucy Gray.

"Yeah, Billy Taupe can't accept the fact that we manage without him." She replies, smugly.

"Well, he's lucky you got back" Y/n mutters, "thanks, by the way, for getting him off and... also, of course, for saving Lucy Gray." She looks up at Coriolanus.

"A pleasure, really. There's no need to thank me." He replies, hitching to hold her hand again, to hold her to him and never let go, "anything for you."

At that Y/n takes a small step back, feeling a little nervous under his stare.

"We're going to the lake, tomorrow. Do you guys want to join?" Lucy Gray suddenly asks, surprising her best friend.

"Really?" Sejanus checks in, looking at the girls, "we'd like to."

"Of course, a way of thanking you." She assures him, "we usually go and have a sort of picnic."

"We'll look forward to it." Coriolanus too agrees.

"Yeah, it would be nice." Y/n wraps her arms around herself, to shield herself from his eyes.

"She makes an amazing apple cobbler too, the young ones loves it." The brunette praise her best friend, locking their arms together.

"You cook too?" Coriolanus is surprised, pleased, "you didn't tell me."

"She can do a lot of things, a real walking talent." Lucy Gray smiles proudly at her friend, nudging her side. Y/n's cheeks warm up at the compliments, turning her head to look away from them all.

"Always so shy, aren't you?" Coriolanus softly comments.

"She's never been the best with compliments." Lucy Gray softly chuckles, squeezing her friend's arm, "but she deserves them all."

"I'm sure she does." His soft stare makes Y/n shiver, she doesn't know why but she's intimidated by it.

"Uh..." she would start, but her eyes catch something behind the two men, "Maude Ivory." Lucy Gray follows her eyes to the little girl.

"You're friends peacekeepers." She says.

"They must be here for the fight." Y/n guesses, "I'll go handle it."

"I'm coming with you."

"Get the guitar, then." She instructs and Lucy Gray grabs the guitar.

"Hey.. we can't be seen with you, though." Coriolanus quietly tells them.

"That lake is in the woods, no one knows much about it but us, don't worry." Lucy Gray reassures him.

"That's comforting." Sejanus smiles grateful at her and she returns it.

"See you tomorrow then." Coriolanus says looking at Y/n who simply evades his stare, she politely smiles, but that doesn't stop Coriolanus from dreaming about her that night. How right their hands felt together, how beautiful she is so close... he can't wait for the next day.

He feels somehow grateful for Sejanus presence, he's sure Lucy Gray invited them both because she's interested in him. He remembers the little glances she would send his classmate at the Capitol. He will use it to his advantage, he knows how much Sejanus would love to help him get the girl of his dreams, he just needs a little push.

--------------

Y/n is making a new dough for the next day, while they're at the lake it will have time to raise. She's mostly making it to get her mind busy, to sort of preparing herself for the day at the lake with the two peacekeepers.

"Are you okay?" Lucy Gray cautiously asks, walking next to her.

"Whatever do you mean?" Y/n asks back, not glancing once at her friend.

"Mh... you're using that tone, for one." Lucy Gray nudges her, "and... you're kneading that dough as if you're chocking it. I'm pretty sure it's dead."

Y/n doesn't answer right away, she keeps kneading the dough, when she puts it in a bowl she turns to her friend.

"I'm okay." She finally says.

"Something bothering you." The singer gently takes her hand, guiding Y/n to sit with her at the table.

"Are the others sleeping?" Y/n asks, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Yeah, now tell me what's wrong." She softly urges her, "is it about tomorrow? Are you nervous or something?"

"I guess..."

"Why?" Lucy Gray asks, "do you fancy my mentor?" She tries to joke and teases her.

"No." She quickly answers, "no, really, I... it's like there's something off about him... I don't know, maybe it's just me."

Y/n lets out a heavy sigh and looks at Lucy Gray, who looks conflicted herself.

"I... uhm.." she starts, uncertain.

"What..?"

"I felt the same way when I met him... he would ask so many question about you, our life here you know, I could see he wanted to know more and more about you." She explains.

"Me? Why?" Y/n gets even more nervous.

"I think he saw you at the reaping ceremony, when you sang and... I don't know, you caught his attention."

"Oh..."

"We can cancel... or you can stay in, I don't want you to feel forced to go because I didn't think." Lucy Gray takes her hands again, reassuringly.

"No, it's okay... I mean maybe we're just looking too much into it..." Y/n shakes her head, "I kind of want to see if you and the other one move to the next step."

"You noticed.." she blushes slightly.

"You two where smiling at each other like crazy." Y/n smiles sweetly at her friend.

"He's sweet, I saw how he wanted to help the tributes during the games... but please, we don't have to go if you're uncomfortable." She checks.

"I'm fine, I promise." Y/n kisses her hands to assure her, "maybe it's just a misunderstanding. It'll be fine."

"Oh now you're comforting me?" Lucy Gray teases.

"Obviously." She smiles proudly, "how about you... how are you coping with... with the games?"

Lucy Gray's smile drops slightly, looking down at their hands, squeezing them a little tighter, scared she would be taken away again.

"I'm okay... sometimes I feel like I'm still there." Her eyes fill with tears at the memories, "I killed people, Y/n... I..."

"You can't just shake it off, right?" Y/n guesses and Lucy Gray nods without saying a word, "I won't say that I'll understand, I will try sure, I can't promise I will be able to of course, but... I'm with you, Lucy Gray, you're not alone, I won't let you deal with it alone."

Lucy Gray stands, and so does Y/n, she brings her into a warm hug. They hold each other like never before, they hugged in the past sure, but nothing like this. This hug is filled with comfort and safety, something they both need, they don't even want it to end in fear one of them could be taken away again.

"We should get some sleep." Y/n states with a chuckle, but doesn't break the hug.

"Yeah." Lucy Gray laughs, "I think we should." They pull apart, "Sorry, I really needed that."

"So did I."

With that little comfort from each other they can finally go to bed and get some sleep. Even though, Y/n can't really fall asleep so quickly, her mind constantly going to Coriolanus Snow and his eyes, his stare on her. Could it be possible that they're just imagining it or it's true?

She close her eyes for a second and the moment she opens them the first light of day greets her, making her groan.

"Fuck." She mutters out, uncovering herself and getting seated, not so ready to start the day.

"Morning." Lucy Gray's harsh morning voice greets Y/n in the kitchen as she prepares the basket for the picnic, "Did you get some sleep?"

"I did, do not worry." Y/n replies, "just... uh..."

"What?"

"Don't leave me alone with him, okay?"

Once Lucy Gray nods, Y/n gets back at the basket.

--------------

"This time of the year the water is just perfect." Maude Ivory excitedly jumps towards the lake.

"She loves the lake, if you can't tell." Y/n jokes.

"I wouldn't blame her," Sejanus says, "I'll trust her judgement, then."

"You should!" The little girl tells him, loud.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Coriolanus offers to carry the basket for the tenth time, "I promise it's no trouble."

"And I promise it's fine, thank you." Y/n, once again, denies his help.

Coriolanus can't help the clenching in his jaw, his girl should never, ever, lift a finger. He'll make sure of it.

"We're almost there, anyway. No worries." She tries to chuckle and assure him.

"She's strong." Lucy Gray chimes in, "she never lets me do any heavy work around the house. It's crazy."

"No, well, that's because you're not the best at them." Y/n teases her.

"That's not true!" Lucy Gray laughs, "I got many talents."

"You do... not for handwork."

Lucy Gray gasps, faking offence, while the rest of the group laugh.

"How long have you been friends for?" Sejanus asks, "if I'm not intruding."

"We're basically sisters," Lucy Gray immediately answers, proudly, "our parents died and we got raised by the same person."

"I arrived after them, but everything fell into places so naturally, it felt like I found my family again." Y/n explains, with a big smile.

"Never left each other's side ever since." Lucy Gray takes her best friend's hand as they finally arrive at destination.

"We're here!" CC exclaims and Maude Ivory rushes to get into the water as soon as possible, making Y/n chuckle.

Coriolanus watches her closely, the way she worries about her family, the way she smiles, laughs and shines when she looks at the young ones. The more time he's in her presence, the more he falls in love with her, his desire to make her his growing each moment. His girl, his wife and, one day soon, his first Lady.

--------------

A day at the lake with her family is something Y/n always treasured, and will always treasure. She usually takes a few minutes to herself to enjoy the water, just floating with her eyes closed, she loves how free the stream lets her be.

The Covey always lets her live her peace... at least until it's time to eat, in that moment they would splash her until she gets to shore, earning, everytime, a glare from the poor girl.

And today should be no different, Y/n and Lucy Gray agreed not to make the others suspect their new friend makes them feel a little uneasy. So as Y/n floats on her own, Lucy Gray will try and keep an eye out to let her alone with her former mentor.

"What's she doing?" Coriolanus asks.

"Oh she likes to feel the water on her own." Lucy Gray explains, while Sejanus play with Maude Ivory, "to enjoy the moment."

"Wouldn't she be carried away by the stream?" He wonders.

"Nah, it's like the water knows where she should be."

"That's beautiful, Lucy Gray." Sejanus comments.

"Not my words." She is quick to specify, "hers."

Coriolanus spent the rest of the bath watching her, purposely ignoring his former tribute's stare. She probably wants to protect her friend, he thinks, but he's the only one who can protect her. And that he will.

"I'm starving!" Maude Ivory exclaims getting out the water towards the picnic blanket, "c'mon!"

Almost in an instant the rest of the Covey follows, apart from Lucy Gray who stays with Sejanus and Coriolanus, and Y/n floating not far.

Coriolanus shots his friend a look to tell him to get Lucy Gray away so he could have some time alone with his girl.

"I..." Sejanus stutters out, "I... I brought something. I know you two cooked for us too, so I wanted to bring something as a thanks... for the invite."

"Aaww but that's very sweet of you. You didn't need to." Lucy Gray almost melts at his words.

"I can show you. I mean they're preparing to eat so might as well help them." Sejanus suggests.

"Oh... uh... I mean..." she is hesitant, looking briefly at Coriolanus and at her friend.

"Coriolanus is here to look out for her, don't worry." Sejanus reassures her, but he doesn't know that his friend is the reason she needs to keep an eye out for Y/n.

Unfortunately, she knows she can't refuse, not without raising questions from her family nor suspects from the two peacekeepers.

"Yeah... Okay." She finally says, "but I mean, you don't have to, she's always does that. You can come with us."

"I don't mind." He's quick to reply, "I too enjoy the waters myself."

"See? No troubles at all." Sejanus smiles at her.

"We will call you soon, anyway." Lucy Gray tells him, she means it as a warning, even though Coriolanus doesn't register it that way.

"We'll be here." He smiles charmingly as always as he looks at the two climbing on the wooden deck and towards the Covey. She still watches over her friend.

As Coriolanus finally can enjoy the view he can notice her floating gently towards him.

'The water knows where she should be' Lucy Gray said, and the water is bringing her to him.

Y/n felt something touching her hand slightly, startling her.

"Oh sorry." She starts to apologise, but freezes when she sees Coriolanus in front of her.

"No need to apologise." He softly says.

"Where's everyone?" She asks.

"Preparing for the picnic." He tells her, secretly enjoy how her eyes don't meet his.

"Oh... I guess.. uh... I guess we should join them, then." She nervously chuckles, wanting more and more to not be alone with the Peacekeeper.

"Did you enjoy the water?" He asks, ignoring her suggestion.

"I... I did." She answers, "I love days like this."

With each word she slowly swims to the deck.

"I've never done this, you know." He says swimming closer.

"You don't have lakes at the Capitol?" She chuckles, again to hid her nerves.

"There's no room for nature." He simply says.

"Oh... that's... sad." She comments, feeling genuinely sad about that, "hope you're having a good day then, Mr Snow."

"Please, Coriolanus is more than fine, or Coryo... if you like." He tells her with a charming smile, internally begging her to say his name.

"Well, I hope you're having a good day, then, C-Coryo." She forces herself to smile, slightly letting out a sigh of relief when she realises she got to the wooden deck.

"The best in a long time." He catch up with her, ready to chivalrously help her climb up.

Y/n tries to be as quick as she can, but in doing so her foot slipped and she falls back into the water... in Coriolanus' arms.

"Shit..." she curses under her breath.

"You okay?" Coriolanus immediately asks, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I... I slipped." She tries to subtly wiggle out of his arms. While what Coriolanus wants more is to hold her even closer. "We should... uhm... get to the picnic or.. or they w-will eat everything."

"Yeah..." Coriolanus eyes constantly switch from her eyes to her lips, "probably."

He doesn't move an inch though, his eyes keeping the same route, but moving his face closer to hers.

Y/n is cornered, she wants to freak out, but he's still a Peacekeeper, who knows what he could do if she rejected him badly.

"Uhm..." she tries to come up with something to say to get out of the situation.

He's living his dream, in the meantime, he's so close to kissing his girl for the first time he wants to enjoy every second of it. His hands find their way to her waist, caressing it.

Y/n shakes, she wants to run, hit him and run away. Coriolanus interprets the shaking as shyness, he's sure she feels the same, he thinks her shaking is only in anticipation of the kiss.

So he leans closer... and closer...

"Guys!" Lucy Gray's voice saves her, "it's all set!"

"We're coming!" Y/n shouts back immediately, turning away from Coriolanus as she feels his grasp tightening slightly.

Y/n manages to climb back up and misses the frustrated clenching in Coriolanus' jaw.

--------------

They sit on the blankets they brought as they eat, Y/n managed to take a seat in between CC and Maude Ivory, away from the peacekeeper. Lucy Gray, on the other hand, sits next to Sejanus which earned a teasing smile from her friend, Coriolanus sits next to him as they everyone eats.

"You weren't lying, this is amazing." Sejanus exclaims, mouth full of Y/n's dessert.

"You're being too kind now." Y/n can only shy away from the compliment.

"Told you, she's always underestimate herself." Lucy Gray low-kye scold her friend.

"True!" CC agrees, earning a glare from Y/n.

"It really is amazing." Coriolanus chimes in, "where did you learn?"

"Oh... well, when you have to feed all these mouths, that's what you have to do." Y/n explains, "and there were times where one didn't want to eat, when they were younger and didn't fully understand the situation, so I tried my best in making something tasty with what we had."

"Well, I didn't learn." Lucy Gray tries to highlight her friend's talent.

"That's because you were earning money with your guitar and performances." Y/n replies.

"Even that, not without your help." The singer insists.

"Mine?" Y/n laughs, "what help? You're the one singing beautifully everyday."

Coriolanus assist this playful banter and can't help the jealousy raising in him. He wants Y/n to joke with him like that, not with Lucy Gray. He wants to make her blush with compliments, not Sejanus.

"But you write the songs!" Lucy Gray exclaims, with a big smile.

"Not all of them!" Y/n laughs.

"The most beautiful ones, yes." Lucy Gray shots back.

"Oh shut up!" Y/n throws her friend a piece of bread.

"Did we hear any of these songs?" Coriolanus asks, curious.

"I think so," Lucy Gray answers, "plus the one I sang in the arena it's hers."

"Which one?"

"You didn't watch the games?" Sejanus asks.

"No, I did, I did, it's just that the TV we borrowed was a little broken so we couldn't hear anything." CC answers.

"Pity..." Sejanus comments, "she sang beautifully."

"Not a surprise." Y/n smiles, "so, what song was it?"

"The old Therebefore." Lucy Gray tells her, "you know it always gives me strength."

"That was yours?" Coriolanus asks, positively surprised.

"Uh.. yeah, though, I simply rearranged an old melody." Y/n explains, shaking her head dismissively.

"Told you, walking talent." Lucy Gray grins and Y/n throws another piece of bread at her.

Coriolanus is amazed, she will be a perfect first Lady, the people of Panem will love her. He's more and more realising what a perfect choice she will be.

Y/n rolls her eyes, giving up, earning a triumphant smile from Lucy Gray.

"It made all people in the auditorium cry." Coriolanus tells them, "a real moving moment."

"At least I would've gotten one last good performance before my demise." Lucy Gray says dramatically.

"Don't say that." Y/n immediately stops her, "you're here. That's all that matters."

They reach out at the same time to hold each other's hand, Sejanus looks at them with sweet eyes, Coriolanus only feels jealousy, eyes shooting daggers at Lucy Gray.

Unfortunately the things between Sejanus and Lucy Gray have been going strong. She is so in love, Y/n's never seen her so taken by someone like she is by Sejanus. The down side of her happiness is that the peacekeeper always brings his friend around. Coriolanus, in fact, insisted and convinced Sejanus to bring him everytime he visited Lucy Gray, and Sejanus, being the good friend he is, he was glad to help his best friend. They even managed to leave Coriolanus and Y/n alone, Lucy Gray too distracted by Sejanus to notice the deception. Y/n doesn't want her to notice anyway, she's happy her friend found someone she actually like, so she's going to endure a little longer for her, Lucy Gray deserves some happiness after all the horrors she saw.

That's why Y/n's now cooking in their kitchen, with Coriolanus watching her like a hawk.

"What are you making exactly?" He asks from his spot by the small table.

"It's... a apple c-cobbler." Y/n softly answers. He would listen to her soft voice all day if he could, saying his name, begging him.

"Do you need any help?" He offers, "you know I don't mind."

She hears him standing up and walking closer to her.

"It's okay, you don't ha-" she stops mid-sentence, Coriolanus' hands softly caressing her hips froze her.

"I don't mind." He whispers into her ear, thumb striking the clothed spot.

"No... uh... i-it's o-okay... uh..." she stutters, looking around for a way to get away.

"Or maybe... " he spins her around so he's looking directly into her eyes, "we can adress... this." He motions between them, getting even closer, bodies now against one another.

"Uh..?" Y/n is confused.

"Us." Coriolanus specifies, "I don't think we can ignore it any longer."

"Uh... I don't... know..." she's at loss for words, "what..?"

"I'm pretty sure, my interest is pretty obvious." He says this almost shyly, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, "and... I think yours is too."

"My... interest?"She shakes her head, putting her hands on his arms to try and push him off, "Coriolanus..."

"I love it when you use my name, Y/n." Coriolanus says, leaning closer, ignoring how she avoids his eyes and pushes him away.

"Just..."

"Y/n!!"

"Shit.." he mutters under his breath.

"Where are you?" Lucy Gray asks.

"In the kitchen." Y/n answers, relieved Coriolanus stepped back.

"There you are." She enters the kitchen and immediately hugs her friend, Sejanus close behind her.

"Hi." He timidly says, then notices Coriolanus by the table, "hey Coryo, didn't expect to see tou here today."

There's tension between them, Lucy Gray turns her head to look at the blonde and her face drops.

"Is everything okay, Lucy Gray?" Y/n puts a hand on her friend's shoulder, reassuringly.

"Yeah, of course." She shakes her head and smiles brightly again, "what are you making?" She changes subject.

"Uh... apple cobbler." Y/n says softly.

"Mmmhh can't wait." She hums.

There's something off about this situation, since last night's performance at the Hob all three of them have been behaving weirdly. Lucy Gray was singing and after the song she went after Sejanus and Coriolanus, she was goon for some time and when she got back something in her eyes was off. She tried to wave it off, but Y/n knew her friend and she was sure something happened. Why Lucy Gray didn't want to talk to her only added to her worries.

Unfortunately the worst was yet to come.

--------------

"What do you mean you have to leave?" Y/n asks, getting more and more agitated.

"Mayfair and Billy Taupe are dead, who do you think will be blamed?" Lucy Gray snaps back as she keeps packing a small bag.

"But you didn't! How could they prove otherwise?" Y/n insists, breathing heavily.

"The mayor will surely find a way." Her friend days bitterly, then turn to look at her in the eyes, "listen, I'll be fine. This is the only way."

"How will you go, uh?" Y/n challenges, "alone in the woods."

"I... Coriolanus said he would help." Lucy Gray answers, emotionless.

"Coriolanus?!" Y/n whisper-shouts, "do you trust him?"

"I don't have much of a choice. I told you what happened, he's involved too. That has to do." The brunette sighs deeply, "you all can join me in time. I wish you could come too now, but-"

"It will draw too much attention and we would be too easy to find." Y/n finishes her sentence, "I know... but Snow?"

"I told you, he's involved too... he's the only option. Plus... I don't have anything to keep me here anymore.."

Y/n sighs, giving up, she knows Lucy Gray is still grieving Sejanus. She walks to her friend, stopping her to hug her. Lucy Gray returns the hug immediately, crying on her friend's shoulder. Y/n, then, holds her tighter, stroking her back reassuringly.

"We'll be okay. And we will join you soon." Y/n whispers. "I promise."

--------------

It's been almost a year since Lucy Gray ran away, a year since Y/n saw her friend. She hopes Lucy Gray is fine, moat importantly she hopes her friend is alive. It was hard to explain the situation to the rest of the Covey, especially the youngest one, but she managed.

A good thing about this situation is that it's also been a year since Coriolanus Snow has been seen in district 12. Rumours has it he got back to the Capitol, Y/n wishes, whatever is the truth, that he stays as far away as possible. One of their last interactions scared her so much she hardly left the house in fear of simply seeing him.

Y/n is walking back home with her basket in hand, she sold all the jewellery and cakes she made to earn some money so she was quite content as she enters the house.

"Is anyone home?" Y/n yells as she puts down the basket and takes off her patched-up coat.

"In here." A voice calls from the kitchen and Y/n is quick to walk there, freezing on the spot when the figure of Coriolanus Snow stands in her kitchen. His hair grew in this time apparently, the new haircut makes him look even more dangerous, "Hi, my love."

"Uh..." Y/n doesn't know what to do, having him in the house after all this time feels worse than a robe around her neck, "what... what are you doing here?"

"You don't seem happy." Coriolanus states, confused.

He spent a year thinking about Y/n, working hard and constantly so he could come back to 12 and take her to the Capitol. He's been thinking about her, analysing each of their interactions to the bone. And he realised something: Y/n is yet to realise the love they're destined to share, but Coriolanus is more than willing to help.

"I... I'm confused... why... why are you here? Is Lucy Gray-"

"I don't want to talk about Lucy Gray!" He snaps.

Y/n flinches and takes a step back, he sighs deeply and pass a hand through his hair.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." she apologises, not wanting to anger him more, "you... uh... you let your hair grow..."

That seems to please him, he slightly smiles, pride growing in him.

"Yeah," he walks closer to her, "I wanted to leave the Peacekeeper behind, to welcome the future president of Panem."

"Future president..." she gasps out, slowly retreating backwards, "wow.."

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered." He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "I missed you."

"Why are you here?" She asks, pushing his hand away.

"I'm here to take you to the Capitol with me." He simply answers, as a matter of fact.

"What?!" She exclaims, pushing him off and putting distance between them.

"You're coming home with me." He states.

"I am home." She firmly says, noticing the clench in his jaw.

"No." He shakes his head, "no, you're not."

"I'm not coming with you." She insists, "I have people to take care of."

"They will be taken care of, if you come with me." He makes sure to emphasise the 'if'.

Y/n now realises no one else's home.

"If? Coriolanus, listen-"

"No, you listen." He interrupts her once again, "there's no thinking to do here. You're coming with me, period. You come with me and your family will be cared for, if you don't... there would be consequences."

"Is that a threat?" She shakes in fear now.

"It's a promise, my love." He gets closer again, putting a hand on her cheek, "so... what do you say now?"

"You already decided... what's the point of asking, then?" She's tearing up, too scared to move.

"Say you'll come with me." He leans closer, brushing his lips against hers, "say it."

She shakes her head, lips sealed.

But Coriolanus doesn't waste any more time, he kisses her, she backs away but he chases her until her back hits the wall forcing their lips together once again.

He kisses her, but she doesn't kiss him back, the hand on her cheek moves to her neck squeezing, as a warning. She tries to push him off, but he is stronger than her, his other hand moves to her hips pulling her closer and she starts to actually struggle.

"S-stop." She manages to stutter out.

"Give into me, my love." He mutters against her skin, kissing down her neck, "come with me, you'll want for nothing more in your life."

"No..." she weakly says, as she keeps pushing him off.

"Yes." He kisses her again, completely leaning his body against her, caging her.

"Please don't... Please." Her crying only turns him on more, he thrusts his hips against her making her feel his hard-on.

Y/n stops her movement, dread in her veins prevents her from doing anything.

"Sshh, let me take care of you." He whispers into her ear, "let me show you how good I can make you feel."

"Please... no..." her breathing gets heavier and heavier as she looks at him kneeling in front of her, "Don't."

She looks at the door, wanting to flee and leave him behind.

"Don't you dare." Coriolanus orders, looking up at her, "you try to run and I'll make sure your family pays. Am I clear, my love?"

Y/n averts her eyes from the door, to the former peacekeeper kneeling in front of her.

The hunger in his eyes is enough to make her feel like a prey being caught.

He keeps looking at her as he lifts her dress up her legs, and when he pulls her underwear down he finally break the eye contact to take a proper look at his prize.

He licks his lips and gets closer to her core, inhaling her scent.

"Stop... please Coriolanus, stop." She tries again, but her plead falls to deaf ears.

Coriolanus at hearing his name coming from her he dives himself between her legs, licking and sucking all he could, finally enjoy whatever he's been dreaming about all this time... since that reaping ceremony.

Y/n gasps when he attacks her pussy with his mouth like a starved man, she looks around hoping to find something to use as a weapon or a way to escape this. She puts her hand on his head in an attempt to push him off, but it's no use, his hold is way too tight and strong for her to pull away.

"Mmhhh" he humms against her, her taste inebriates him completely.

"Shit.." she groans, her body betraying her, getting closer and closer, "shit."

Hearing this Coriolanus only doubles his efforts, he blindly grabs one of her hands and moves it to rest on his cheek.

"Mmhhh yes." He humms again, licking harder on her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She tries to hold back, but it's like she has no control over her body anymore as she comes on his mouth. Her legs weakening and falling to the ground, right in front Coriolanus, face to face.

"I love you." He whispers, catching her off guard by kissing her deeply and forcefully.

She puts her hands against him, never stopping her attempts.

"Stop, stop." She mutters.

"This is just a taste of how I'm going to take care of you." He explains breathlessly, "I'm never letting you go, my love."

They stay still for a moment, Y/n too scared to move and Coriolanus is simply enjoying the moment.

He finally got his girl, but he's always being certain of it, after all it's in his family.

Snow lands on top.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Eyes on the Mirror - part 1

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW Words count: 2631 Summary: You're at a turning point in your relationship with Frankie, he tells you that his mother insists on meeting you. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears dresses, heels and uses make-up, no other description of her is given, no mention of her skin tone and she doesn't blush, no description of her hair, Frankie can lift her but he’s a hunk of a men you know, mention of food, established relationship, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, kissing, mention of unprotected p in v, nipples play (f receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), panties in mouth (don't know how it's called in English, I just know that I like it lol), Frankie is our canon PEK and also the perfect boyfriend okay, mention of being caught (well, to be more specific, to be heard lol), pet names. Let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: This has been a long journey and I think it took me longer than expected. Second part is coming tomorrow. It's an emotional work, it's smut, but it's smut with feelings and I think I put a lot of myself into it. So I ask you to be especially delicate. This Frankie is the same guy from You look like a fun place to sit and Give me more Anyway, let me say a few thanks because I can't believe I had two people volunteer to be my beta, I'm very lucky. Kate @aurorawritestoescape and Ally @arcanefox207 The fact alone that you took some time to read and proofread my stuff is so important to me and you have given me so many helpful suggestions and advice, I am very grateful ❤️ Thank you Odi @joelmillerisapunk , to let me blather, to cheer me up, to always have the right words, I don't know how you do it, you're literally a gem ❤️ We’re going back to the emotional unavailable men agenda asap but for the moment I hope you’ll enjoy my lover boy neighbor!Frankie who is crazy about his girl 🥰  English is not my first language, any mistake is still on me, so if you come across one I’m very sorry. Frankie Masterlist ⎮ Masterlist ⎮ part 2

You and Frankie have been together for four months now, and you’re incredibly happy. Your neighbor, the man you spent a year hating, revealed himself as the best man you’ve ever been in a relationship with. 

You haven't said “I love you” to each other yet, you're taking it slow and you're perfectly fine with that, you know you have strong feelings for him but you don't know if he's ready to say it and the last thing you want is to ruin the best relationship you've had because of words said too soon. 

So you respect his timing without forcing his hand. And still you often think you don't even really need to say it, all you really want is to keep being with him, the man who can make you laugh in a second, with whom you like to do everything from the most mundane things like grocery shopping and running errands, to talking for hours and sharing everything with him, cooking, going to parties and concerts, even bickering. 

And sex. 

Oh, Frankie is a fucking magician. 

The most shockingly fiery and at the same time sweet lover you've ever had. 

You feel you can be yourself at all times with him, he knows your flaws and frailties and accepts them. And from where you were starting out it already feels like a considerable accomplishment. You never thought that the man who used to spend time judging you, once you penetrated his armor, was actually such a tolerant and nonjudgmental person.

You haven't moved in together, but you spend almost every night together, and yet, you are still trying to navigate your relationship without making the other one run off before taking the next step.

So when Frankie tells you that his mother would love to meet you, you get a little scared but you try to put on a good face.

"You really don't mind?" he prods you. 

You can never hide anything from him; Frankie has an ability to read your mind, the talent that you had never found in a man. 

His eyes scan you and he has a cunning little smile as he’s standing on the other side of the table, eating the eggs you prepared for him. 

“Yeah, don't worry, it's okay,” you nod, your movement a little forced, and Frankie notices it. 

“You're nervous, huh? Look it's normal,” he tries to reassure you, his hand slides across the table until it meets yours. 

He squeezes it gently and then intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“I'm sorry, she's been nagging me for at least a month now, I've managed to keep her at bay until now but she grilled me yesterday and told me that she was expecting us for dinner on Friday.”

“Yeah...I just feel a little pressure, you know, but it's okay,” you admit.

“Babe, she will like you very much, I'm sure.”

You look into his eyes, those big eyes the color of coffee and chocolate, and the comfortable glow they give off immediately takes away part of the weight you feel on your chest. 

“Are you sure?” you murmur.

“Of course!” he smiles at you, ”Well, you're a little sassy but...”

You slap his hand “Frankie! You're not helping me!” you complain. 

“Come on, I'm kidding. She’s going to adore you, I have no doubt about it,” he chuckles.

“Mmmm we’ll see” you still mumble with uncertainty.

"Come here," he says softly. 

You get up and walk over to him before he welcomes you on his lap and you wrap your arms around his neck. He rests his forehead on yours looking into your eyes and repeats softly, “she will adore you…not as much as I do but she sure will”

The thing is this with him, he's been circling around that word for weeks, so you're pretty sure he's going to confess sooner or later.

"What if she doesn't like me?" you ask him and bite your lip, looking at him expectantly.

“Uh, I don't want to stop fucking you, you know... so, you'll have to stay in a clandestine relationship while I'm dating a woman, personally chosen by my mom.” 

You kiss him, muttering “god, you're so...” 

He giggles and asks "what am I like?" tightening his grip on your waist a little tighter and pulling you closer to his chest, your tits pressed against him. 

“An incredibly lovely fucking bastard.”

________________________________________

You are in the kitchen preparing dinner, which in your case means putting take-out pizza on plates, as you hear Frankie come in. 

“Hey, are you here?” 

He gave you his keys a few weeks ago to make it easier for you to get around.

“In the kitchen!” you shout to him. 

You hear his footsteps approaching from the hallway until he comes in with a bag. 

“Hey, baby.” 

You walk up to him to give him a kiss, he immediately puts down the bag and hugs you tightly. “mmm I missed you. What's for dinner?” 

“Pizza,” you tell him smiling through your eyelashes and stealing another kiss, his beard tickling your cupid's bow pleasantly “And I was thinking about…uhm…your cock for dessert.”

He squeezes your butt, chuckling, “So eager, huh?”

“For you? Always,” you purr, looking into his eyes, veiled with desire.

His stomach grumbles slightly making you giggle, “Do you want to eat first?” 

“Uh, no,” he whispers, and as he does so he slips two fingers under the straps of your dress and pulls it off, letting it slide to the floor. 

You're in your panties in front of him, no bra, he looks at you spellbound with a smirk that unknowingly puckers his lips, "do you know how beautiful you are?" 

His eyes move from your face down to the crease of your neck, your cleavage, your breasts, your stomach, slowly, as if he is drinking from your body, the source that keeps him alive. 

He takes his time, still hasn't touched you but you'd swear you've never felt more caressed than now, nurtured, sensed, accepted in your body's every disheveled and flawed manifestation.

You could swear you could moan from that alone.

When his hands approach your hips you want them so badly that you instinctively lean into them to meet his palms, the warmth of his skin welcoming you.

You cling to his broad shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours.

He lifts you up as if you weighed nothing and lays you on the kitchen countertop, next to the sink. 

Your legs hang over the edge as he commands, “open wide, baby,” and settles in between, still fully clothed. 

“Frankie, please.” 

“You know what I like?” he asks with a smirk, ”the way you light up as soon as I touch you. God, it drives me crazy the way you instantly become a needy little animal, you know that?" 

You feel your eyes heavy and your voice shaky as you repeat his question, “You know what I like? The way you know exactly what I need.”

He smiles, leaning down to your neck to bite the soft skin over your pulse point and soothing it right after with his warm tongue. 

He lowers himself onto you, leaving a trail of kisses on your beating chest, pausing on your tits and spreading his lips over your nipples, first one and then the other, caressing them with his tongue, swirling it around. You moan with each touch, tilting your head back as he sucks them harder, his beard pinching you gently, his warm lips enveloping them.

You pull his cap off and sink a hand into his dark curls. 

He knows you so well, it is as if he has memorized your every little reaction and in his mind has written himself a manual on how to make you completely lose control. 

He continues to work on your nipples, grazing them with his teeth, licking them up and down with his tongue, sucking them between his lips, hard and covering them with his saliva. His tongue goes around your areola, returning to your little pebble every time you pull his hair a little harder and mewl.

He suddenly leaves your tits and returns to your neck, you groan in disappointment but his tongue immediately soothes you trailing up to your jaw and licking over your lips, inviting them to open for him and dragging you in a sloppy, feral kiss that leaves you breathless.

His hips are rocking into you, brushing over your damp underwear while you wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him against your core.

His eyes are dark with lust as he moves one of his hands over your soaked underwear, brushing your folds with his knuckles, “I’m going to make you scream my name so loudly, baby”

“That’s exactly what I want,” you prod him, biting down softly on his lower lip. “Do your magic, Morales.” 

You loosen the grip of your legs, gently pushing his shoulders to invite him to lower himself, and Frankie grumbles jokingly, "bossy". 

He kneels in front of you holding his hands down on your back, just above your butt and pushes you toward him, you falter for a moment balancing on the edge of the counter but his grip is strong and secure.

You run a hand through his curls, tugging slightly.

He licks a strip over your panties, taking the fabric between his teeth, without stopping to look at you. 

A fucking tease. 

He stills for a moment and then kisses your clit. 

Then he moves his flat tongue flat down, almost to your tight hole and then back up, again and again, lingering on your clit with quick flicks of his tongue.

The fabric of your panties is wet with his saliva as a new stream of pleasure floods you, soaking them even more.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you holler.

He looks at you mischievously. “Thinking about it… we should take some measures to make sure you stay quiet, honey, you know?” he nods to the half opened window right behind you. 

You glance back and then blurt out, “oh, whatever, let them hear us.”

Frankie chuckles at your impatience. “Do you really want to put on a show for the whole neighborhood?” 

“There are curtains, they can't see us,” you frown

“But do they need to hear us?” he says as he pulls off your panties, sliding them down your legs.

He sniffs them for a moment- “fucking sweet, darling” - while you wonder what he's going to do, then rolls them and stands back up, sneaking his hand behind your neck and looking at you authoritatively, his lips pursed in a smirk. 

He runs his thumb over your mouth, stops in the center and pushes gently, silently commanding you to open it. The moment your lips part he thrusts your panties into your mouth. “That's it, good girl” he coos.

It’s so wrong, keeping your panties in your mouth like that, your tongue numbed with the taste of it and your body tense under Frankie’s gaze. But also fucking right. 

He graciously holds his power over you, always considerate of your need while he plays with your mind in a delicious nasty way. 

He caresses your cheek, moving down to the column of your neck, wrapping his fingers around it, “Don't try to take them out or you won't get what you want,” he gently orders.  “Can you behave for me?” 

You nod.

He gives you a smirk and gets back on his knees and admires your glistening pussy for a moment. “Always so fucking wet for me,” he whispers before sinking into you again, licking and sucking on your clit and down on your folds, his nose hitting your most sensitive part. 

When you’re basically dripping on your inner thighs, he slides two fingers inside you, so easily moving over the spot he knows makes you see double.

His fingers are inside you up to his knuckles when he curls them, pushing and grasping.

You are thrown into a frenzy almost immediately as he gently hits you with his fingertips again and again, sucking avidly on your clit as you’re stifling your moans by clenching your teeth on your panties.

He laps at your folds so thoroughly, then goes back on your bundle of nerves, sloppy wet noises fill the air mixing with your gasps as he scissors and pushes into you.

He hums against you, whines evenly, you watch him through your eyelashes as he palms himself from above his jeans, seeking some relief.

He doesn’t stop until he feels your legs shake and your stifled mewls trying desperately to get out of your throat. 

Your orgasm crushes over you like a wave, leaving you quivering and breathless.

He gets back up and removes the panties from your mouth, kissing you with his mouth still smeared with your essence. 

 “You’ve been so good, baby.”

You pull him by his shirt protesting, "You haven't got anything yet, though.”

“That’s not a problem, hun, we can eat something and then you’ll eat me. Dessert, remember?” 

You giggle “deal.” 

You steal another kiss from him before slipping your dress back on and setting the table. 

As you eat you notice the bag he left in a corner by the kitchen door.

“What is that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I almost forgot, it's a gift for you." 

You squint your eyes “For me? You didn't have to!”

Frankie smiles “I saw it in a store and thought of you. Open it.” 

You get up and go for the bag, not before giving him a kiss.

When you open the bag you find a dress. 

Very simple, black, not too low-cut, with a tulip skirt. 

As you're looking at it, leaning it over your body to see the length, Frankie suggests that you could wear it to his mother's. 

____________________________________________

“Are you ready, honey?” 

Frankie's voice is muffled by the bathroom door as you're finishing putting on your lipstick.

“Almost, you just need to help me with the zipper.”

Frankie opens the door and peeps into the bathroom.

He stops behind you, admiring you in the mirror as you stand there with your lips parted, leaning slightly over the sink, your legs slender from your heels, you wear the dress he bought you, unzipped at the back.

“Jesus, you’re a vision,” he breathes. “Maybe we should skip dinner at my mom’s.” 

He approaches you and settles his big hands firmly on your hips. 

“Come on, Frankie, be serious,” you giggle.

“I'm serious,” he replies in a rough, deep voice.

He leans down to leave a trail of kisses down the exposed skin on your back, his soft lips send shivers down your spine and you are almost on the verge of giving in. 

You set your lipstick down on the sink countertop and turn to look at him pouting

"You can't do this to me now, you know we can't skip it.” 

“Well, it might help you relax though,” he continues to flirt, his lips curved into a little smile.

You’d fall for it any other day but not now that you’re trying to figure out how to impress someone you don’t even know. 

Frankie told you something about his mom, how protective she is and overall pretty conservative, you’re the exact opposite. 

You don’t know why he stays so positive about the dinner, you’re pretty sure she will hate you.

One look from you is enough to let him know how nervous you are.

Frankie leaves a light kiss on your shoulders and says. "Okay, I'll behave, turn around." 

He pulls up his zipper looking at you in the mirror, “Anyway, I wasn’t lying, you look really beautiful.” 

You smile softly, feeling your heart fluttering.

general tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @milla-frenchy , @thundermartini , @harriedandharassed , @almostempty let me know if you want to be added or removed and I’ll do it right away.

Archive tag: @pedrostories💗

Thank you so much for reading!

[pastlivesxpastlie]

⋆˚₊ show me what you are ⋆˚₊

enemies with benefits vessel x f!reader

summary: you despise your friend of a friend vessel, and he despises you. but you quickly learn you have more in common that you ever thought.

7.4k words

tags, head's up, etc: SMUT, soft sub!vessel, soft domme!reader, lots of antagonizing one another, enemies to lovers, established enemies, casual arrangement, making out, idiots in lust, sexting, masturbation (m + f), praise, dirty talk, pet names (puppy, mommy), cockwarming, cowgirl, pronebone, squirting

a/n: I'm nervous about this one. I've been working on this before I started feeling depressed and I just want it out on the world. Also, in the (paraphrased) words of @rat-that-writes "he could never hate me. I'm too hot."

You’re minding your business at a cafe when he comes in. You lock eyes like you normally do when you happen upon each other. Blank, dead eyes. Face so flat it’s not even a scowl. Sighs. Vessel. A friend of a friend of a roommate of a friend. And a thorn in your side. Ok yes he’s very smart…and witty…and talented…but it doesn’t make him any less arrogant and annoying to be around. You two run in the same circles but that doesn’t mean you hang out. You just exist, for better or for worse, in the same space. No one could understand why you and him didn’t get along. You two weren’t so similar that it was grating, but you also weren’t so different that you were unable to find common ground. But there was something in the way of you two connecting. Of feeling anything other than hate. 

You look back down at your book until you hear the chair across from you scrap across the floor and someone slump into it. 

“I need you.”

You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose. You look up at Vessel and notice he’s staring at you expectantly. 

“Say something,” he says somewhere between a plea and a demand. 

“What are you talking about…you ‘need’ me?”

He looks down. “Uhm, well, you see…”

“Ves…spit it out.” You’re trying to keep your voice down as more people come into the cafe. Why couldn’t you have had this conversation at the party you both attended the night before? 

“I…fuck. I have…needs and…”

“Oh Jesus Christ.” You roll your eyes and crack your neck. “It’s 10 am…”

“No, let me…finish. God. I…have needs and I don’t really…want to look far. To get them met. Do you understand? Uhm…I..”

Is he asking for…?

“Use your words.”

He doubles back a little and licks his lips. Why do his eyes look watery? “Yeah. Yeah I'll use my words. Uhm. I was wondering if you’d be interested in exploring something sort of…loose with me. No strings.”

You laugh out loud from shock. “Is this a sick joke?”

Oh his little heart breaks when you laugh. You can see it. His sweet face drops. “No…no oh my god. I would never joke about this. Look. Hear me out. I…hun I am desperate. I need to just…” he puts his hand to his forehead… “I need the companionship…and the release…but I don’t have it in me to look for a relationship. Not right now and perhaps never.”

This is the first time you’ve seen him vulnerable and quite frankly you could get used to it. There was something about his voice that was different. Calm. Normal. Sincere. But you still feel that pull towards aggression. Instigation. “And someone you actively despise and harrass is your top pick for a fuck buddy?”

“I know we argue a lot!” he barks back. You shift uncomfortably as a couple at a nearby table glare at you both. Vessel clears his throat and lowers his voice. “We don’t get along. And what I’m asking for is a bit much…maybe we just…pretend for a bit? Every once in a while?” He gulps and shakes his head. “I’m genuinely pathetic, I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m being a fucking knob.”

You cross your arms and consider what he’s saying. “So you’re asking to have some kind of…situationship with me…without ever trying to be nice to me first?”

He wipes his hand down his face and groans. “I…fuck it. Yeah I am. I am here groveling and asking you to sleep with me every so often so that maybe I don’t do my own head in. And, also, I just thought maybe…since you’re…pent up and shitty like me. Maybe you’d like to have some fun every once in a while? It would be mutually beneficial. Our mouths would be busy, eyes closed. Maybe we wouldn’t even know it was the other.”

You scoff. “What is that supposed to mean? Pent up…” you straighten in your seat. But you knew exactly what he meant. You were high strung a lot, and Vessel made an excellent target for your frustrations. How could two shit stirrers find any kind of solace with each other? But…you didn’t have any other prospects banging down the door (or you). You put your hands up in surrender. “Ok. Ok. I’ll bite. Yeah…fun would be nice…”

“Right…yeah, yeah. Because I get the impression it’s been a minute for you and…”

“Dude, come on!” You interrupt. 

“Look,” he shakes his head and looks away, “you’re a nice girl when you want to be. And maybe if this arrangement is with you…someone I don’t really see often or whatever…” he finally looks you in the eyes.

~

That next Friday you’re in his flat for the first time. You sit on the couch awkwardly as he brings you some water and plops beside you. Ves bites the inside of his cheek. No one has really made any moves but first times are always awkward right? No matter what was going to happen tonight, it would be a first of some sort. The first time you’re nice to each other. The first time you really touch each other. “You look pretty.” He says sheepishly. 

You look down at your baggy band tee and short yoga shorts. “Don’t lie to me.”

“My god just take the compliment. We’re here just trying to have a good time and…”

“Ok ok. Thank you…Ves…that’s sweet of you to say.”

He turns a bit more towards you, searching your face. His eyes trace your body head to toe as he tries to stifle a small smile. This was his idea and yet he still doesn’t want to show you how much he likes looking at you. Being around your pretty self. You suddenly start to feel nervous as he scoots closer to you. He curls his long legs up underneath him and gently touches your arm. You study his fingers like they’re some harmless little bugs before bringing your gaze back up to his face. He’s not ugly. No. You just never think about his looks because he’s so annoying to you. But here you both are, looking at each other in quiet fascination. Your breath hitches.

“Why me, Ves?”

“Why not you?” Vessel rolls his eyes and moves a little closer and puts his hand out tentatively near your thigh. You gulp, pulling his hand to rest on your smooth skin. His hand rubs gentle strokes against you and his breath deepens. “You feel so good. God.”

“Yeah?”

He bites his lip and looks at you so dreamily. You chuckle. The world stops for what feels like the hundredth time since you’ve gotten here. You feel your head spin a little as he looks at you with what you want to call “desire,” but how could you two ever feel anything other than disdain? Vessel clears his throat slightly. “You can back out…before everything changes…”

“Everything’s changed already, Ves.”

His hand moves up your thigh and squeezes, kneading your soft flesh. He hums contently when you move closer, nearly on his lap. You were wrong when you said everything had already changed. It actually changed the moment you two instinctively moved closer. Not a kiss, but a hug. At first it was tense. Like siblings being told to hug it out. But soon the awkwardness wasn’t the most distracting thing. It was how he felt to you. Sure he was lanky and toned, but he had a softness. A gentleness in how his arms pulled you close and enveloped you. It made you feel like the tiniest thing. And you could tell he enjoyed it and wanted to relax. As he loosened up, he held you closer. He breathed you in. You swear you could fall asleep until he drags cheek and nose up your neck…it reminded you of an animal scenting something. Or maybe he wanted your essence on him. He starts to speak in a barely there whisper and then clears his throat.

“May I, please, start kissing you?”

You gulp. The hug alone aroused you, and the thought of kissing him made you feel completely brainless. “Yeah,” you whisper thickly. 

Vessel places small, gentle kisses in the crook of your neck, taking his time and breathing deeply between each peck. His lips are naturally pouty and feel so soft on your skin. He lets his lower lip drag up to your jaw before placing a delicate kiss right by your earlobe. You would say you don’t know what to do with your hands but they move on instinct. One gently squeezes his waist as the other traces lazy patterns on the back of his neck. 

“I love how your nails feel on me,” he whispers. He sounds like a different person. He’s actually lost in you…and you would know because you’re lost in him. You let your hand drift up to his hairline where you begin to scratch his scalp. His head falls back; his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. You chuckle softly and move both hands to his hair. Eventually you’re in his lap but you’re hesitantly to really relax. “I’ve got you. Have a seat, love.”

You start to feel nervous and the nasty voice in your head that says you’re not worthy and perfect for this kind of situation gets louder. “Is it because I’m easy? Do you think I’m easy?” You blurt out. So many times you’ve been taken advantage of and it wouldn’t even surprise you if this was one of those times where you were in the right place and desperate. 

Vessel’s eyes open, and he looks at you completely lost. He leans forward and helps you cross your legs around his waist. “You… darling…are one of the most difficult people I’ve ever encountered. It must really mean something if you’re here…in my flat…nestled on my lap. And I’m grateful. Thank you.” He begins kissing your neck again but with more fervor this time. More need. Your back arches as his kisses become wetter and his hands knead your plush thighs and ass. It’s no use. You give in to instinct and gently move his face to yours but you both stop. Your noses touch but the realization starts to set in. As quickly as you came together, you’re pulling apart.

“This isn’t the move, is it?” You ask, getting off his lap and smoothing your hair back.

Vessel inhales and rubs his face, groaning. “No. It was a mistake. Besides, you gave me that look.”

“What look?!”

“Oh don’t play dumb. You know the look. The one where you watch me flounder when you could help me.”

You scoff and stand up. “Wow you’re catching on. That’s how I always look at you.” You start to walk towards the door when you turn back to him. He hasn’t left his seat on the couch and doesn’t seem to care to do so. You’re not quite sure what you’re feeling. Arousal, but also annoyance at how quickly the mood changed. Certainly it was Vessel that ruined it, right? You feel that familiar stirring. To project. To rile him up and tear him down. 

He stares back at you. “You’re as pathetic as me. Don’t forget that. You wanted this too. You probably still do.”

Him being both right and cruel about it ignites a white hot rage inside you. You want to scream at him

ask what you did to deserve this from him. To ask him why he makes himself so easy to hate. But instead, you leave. 

...

A week later you’ve kept your weird interaction with Vessel in the back of your head but until then, you couldn’t give two dicks. It was the weekend. And it wasn’t like you to be at a bar like this. Metalheads. The hottest, tiniest goth girlfriends you’d ever seen. You felt out of place but your friends said “noooo we should go! It’s something different to do.” So you put on little black dress and Dr Martens and said “fuck it.” And you were glad you did because a new environment also meant new guys…and to your surprise you actually got some positive attention. 

You found yourself chatting with a guy at the bar as you waited for your drink. He was friendly and handsome enough; you had the ugly thought that maybe he was one of those metalheads who had never actually spoken to a girl, but that was quickly forgotten when you started a thoughtful conversation about a series you both like. And it wasn’t one of those conversations where a nerdy guy dominates and info dumps and corrects you like a jackass. It’s just…enjoyable. He finally starts warming up to you a little and lets his hand graze yours, laughing at your reaction when a sludgier song comes on. You bite your lip and giggle a little, flirting with him saying, “maybe I need someone to help me appreciate metal a little more.” Your hands briefly touch again, and he leans a little closer…letting his free hand lightly touch your waist. You play coy and back up a little. It looks like he’s about to get his phone out before his eyes trail up and behind you. You’re wondering what he’s looking at until you feel a looming presence and a wide hand rub against your back and shoulder.

“There you are, gorgeous. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Your jaw clenches into a tight, fake smile. That accent. You look up at your uninvited guest.

“Hello, Ves. I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

The cute guy you were talking to looks confused and maybe a little sad. Fuck! You facepalm and groan as Vessel waves to him nonchalantly. “Heya…alright, mate?” His voice is dripping in sarcasm. 

Your brain scrambles. “He just means I’d been up here for so long I forgot about the friend group” you say trying to save face. “Not just him. Definitely not.” Vessel squeezes your hip in feigned affection which makes the guy tsk, roll his eyes, and walk away. “Wait, I’m serious,” but he’s already gone. You scoff, ready to pummel Vessel who was easily a head taller than you and more than capable of overpowering you if you tried. You actually liked that guy and thought something was there.

“What the fuck was that?” You ask, eyes shooting daggers into Ves. 

He snorts and shrugs. This is no big deal to him. “That guy was a loser.”

“So?! What do you care?”

“Oh come now, babes. You would have annoyed that bastard to death…he could have never kept up with you.” That shit eating grin. God you could just slap it right off of him. You know that he would leave you alone if you just…didn’t respond. Ignored him. But something kept telling you to egg him on. To react.

“You’re such a dick,” you say, rolling your eyes and walking away. You make it halfway across the bar when he grabs your arm. 

“HEY! I came over to talk to you. Don’t walk away from me.”

“Wow, and how inviting you seem right now! Sabotaging my night and grabbing me. Is this the only way you can get girls near you?”

His brows knit together and he stands closer to you…so much so you’re looking straight up. “Sabotage? Did you like him that much? If you really, really wanted to go home with him tonight then why are you here with me? Also…” he leans down to whisper, “I didn’t have to do much pulling and prodding to get to you mine last week.”

“What the fuck do you want” you sneer. But you find yourself wanting to stay put. The warmth radiating from his tall form. His cologne. The intensity of his gaze. Your attempt at a makeout session last week suddenly replayed in your head very loudly. You snap back to reality when Vessel huffs with a terse laugh and looks away. 

“I hate to say it but…I wanted to ask you something. Ask you…for something…again.” You search his face for understanding. He can’t even look you in the eye but you can tell he’s humiliated. Tail-between-the-legs humiliated. Little-boy-caught-by-mommy humiliated. The pause is heavy. The ambient noise in the bar fades away when he looks at you. He tries to find words but they aren’t coming. “Fuck. Never…never mind, it's stupid. Have a nice night” He lets go of your arm and storms away. 

You’re left there with your jaw on the floor. Usually this tall arrogant nerd wouldn’t shut up giving you a hard time. Now he’s running away. Without thinking, you follow him outside the bar and call out. 

“Ves, what the hell was that?” You hate to say it but you actually feel concerned. Like you have to finally put down your senseless grudge and actually talk to him. “Are you ok?” 

He looks out down the street. It’s a busy Friday night. Folks bar hopping, getting Ubers, whatever people who like each other do downtown, but it feels like it’s just you two. Your eyes bore into him, and he finally looks down at you. Blankly, but at least he’s looking at you. “I know how we can make the…‘situation’ work. 

“Oh? Other than bothering someone else?”

“Do you know what? This is your problem. You’re mouthy and always antagonizing to try to keep some hold over me…and I want all of it. I need you to keep being that way with me. Please.” His voice has dropped to a gravely murmur as his hands shake in clenched fists at his side. 

You two stare at each other for a moment too long. It’s uncomfortably intimate. You’re having a conversation without speaking and it eats at you. You should not want this. Not again. Not him. “What do you mean?”

He fidgets. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Are you kidding? You’re really going to stand here and ask me for something again without defining any terms? Without playing your part in whatever this sick little thing is?”

“If it’s so sick then why are you blushing? You blushed like that when I kissed your neck in my flat. You’re like me. Come on.”

You cock an eyebrow, realizing slowly what he means. “You like this…don’t you? Being put in your place?”

“You haven’t actually done it yet, but…if you did…we’d all feel better. Even if for a brief moment. An hour. An evening. Just…please,” he takes on that same pleading…groveling tone again. He means it. “I can’t…for lack of a better word and I know it’s stupid but…I can’t ‘show up’ and turn my brain off if we’re…equals or something.. So please…where do I belong? Tell me.”

The idea that this…dummy who antagonizes you wants to submit to you breaks your brain. But wait. 

“How did you even know to ask me about this, hm? Did you ask around…maybe even try to snoop on my socials?” Your voice isn’t harsh, but it isn’t gentle. Strict. Probing. 

The way he looks down and rubs the back of his neck, which suddenly looks biteable, is adorable. He gulps. “I uhm…I’m sorry…but I..”

You bite your lip and chuckle as he shifts from one foot to another. A couple walks past and gives you both a once over, which makes you stand closer to him. If he wants to feel claimed, you can try. Being in his personal space where everyone can see.

“I uhm…I heard you talking not too long ago…about…” he lowers his voice “about subby guys and…well..”

“Wooooow….so… been eavesdropping, eh, bub?”

He opens his mouth and only a little whimper comes out. “I’m so sorry.” He keeps looking down, but you reach up and guide his chin so he looks at you. 

“What a resourceful boy…” you say in a sticky sweet voice. “You were just dying to find something out to the point that you decided to sneak around? Was it fun? Little puppy sniffing around for clues…hm?”

Oh the blush that covers his face. The way his eyes sparkle. You know exactly when he overheard you wax poetic about submissive men to your friends at that party…because you knew he was there. You wanted him to hear…because you had your suspicions too. “Answer my question. Dig up your bones for me…did you have fun with your little secret mission?” 

He breaths shakily and bites his lip. Finally he nods…and gives you a big cheeky grin. “Yes ma’am.”

“Eh don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ Makes me sound old.”

“Oh sorry sorry uhhh I don’t mean to…”

“Ves…my goodness…it’s ok. You didn’t know.” You chuckle softly and feel like you’re looking at him for the first time. “Don’t be hard on yourself. And that’s my first order for you.” 

His back straightens a little and his pouty lips curl into a shy smile. “I can do that.”

“Good boy.” You can see his pupils dilate…his breath catch…his heart swell. Oh to be your good boy even though you despise him. 

Something inside you has snapped. Suddenly this insane “mutually beneficial” arrangement excites you. Having casual sex with someone you don’t like in the name of “some fun” was ok, but seeing now that he was naturally submissive made your head spin. This you could work with. 

“I will take a crumb. Honestly. Anything you’ll give me…even if this is the last time we talk about it and it falls through again…”

You put your hand up to stop him. “Stop that.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winces when the word leaves his mouth. 

You smirk and brush his hair back a bit. Your nails lightly scratching his forehead. He wants to purr. To roll his eyes back and feel your nails all over him. 

“Look at you,” you whisper, letting your nails trail over his cheek. “Such a big baby. Aren’t you?”

“Let me take you home…please. Please…”

“No. Hmm. No, I don't think so. Not tonight.” 

He pouts a little bit but nods. “Yeah…yeah ok.”

“Mhm…be patient for me. Can you do that?”

He nods and bites his lip. You can tell he’s excited. “When we’re not like…playing or whatever…you don’t have to treat me any differently. It can be our secret. As we were, yeah?”

You take your time with this. You two rarely see each other as it is and like hell you’d mess with him in front of others. So things develop over texting and the occasional late night phone call…but usually texting. Talking on the phone leads to tone policing. Arguments. It’s best to just keep things borderline anonymous. 

Ves: are you too busy for me?

It was 10 pm. You were drinking wine in your underwear watching Scream. Technically, yes, you were busy. But you knew why he was texting and maybe it would be fun to indulge. 

You: I guess not. What do you need?

The response is instant. He was waiting for you.

Ves: nothing really. 

Ves: just wondering about you 

You: what about me?

Ves: what you’re doing. what you’re wearing. if I’ll ever actually get to be your good boy. feels like you want me at arms length all the time. Is that part of the fun for you?

What seemed like a fun flirty conversation has now turned somewhat emotional. You sigh, desperate to get things back on track. As you try to formulate a response, you get…oh.

The video’s thumbnail is dark, but you open it anyways. You hear blankets rustling and music being turned down as it becomes clear what he’s sent you. He’s laying on his back in bed; the blanket is pushed down to right below his belly button. You’ve never seen him shirtless…and now that’s all you want to see. Yeah he works out but he looks soft. Kissable. You can imagine how fun it would be to kiss down his neck to his tummy, telling him how pretty he is…making him feel small and fuckable. He starts talking…you can tell he’s nervous.

“Maybe this is too needy…too pathetic…I don’t know” he strokes his free hand mindlessly up and down his stomach, “but you like this. Maybe you want me to act out. Just tell me…please… Do you want me like this? Desperate…completely stupid…” As his voice trails off, he moves his hand down to his blanket-covered waist and palms…

“Oh shit,” you whisper as the outline of his cock comes into view and he speaks again. 

“I want you to want this…please…can I be needy for you?” The video ends just as he lets out a soft, breathy whimper. 

You compose yourself…or try to…and respond. 

You: look at you. Are you comfy in that big bed?

Again, the response is instant. 

Ves: yeah but I’m lonelllyyyyy. 

You: just pretend it’s me, sweetheart.

Ten minutes pass. Wait. Why are you sad he didn’t respond? Why do you care? Why…*ding ding*

Ves: ok, I did it. did I do good?🥺

Another text. A picture. What. A. Sight.

His hand concealed his now flaccid cock… but fully on show was his cum covered tummy. You choke back a moan and grasp your blankets. At this point you’ve forgotten who you’re texting and quite frankly you don’t care. 

You: such a good boy 🐶 you’re a hot mess, aren’t you? 

Crickets. Fucking. Crickets. You don’t hear from him for three days. You keep telling yourself it’s ok and not worth thinking about because you hate each other. It’s just mindless fun. Nothing personal. But then…it dawns on you. You’re technically in charge. 

You: come over  Ves: why? You: why do you think? be here at 8. don’t be a brat  Ves: 🧎‍♂️🐶 see you at 8

Right on the dot, he’s there. You’re hoping this doesn’t end the way it did last time. Necking in his lap before you came to your senses. But the energy is different. He stands close to and studies your face.

“What should I call you? When we’re…you know?”

“What feels natural? Other than ma’am…” you chuckle. Aw. An inside joke. 

He bites his lip and blushes. Why is he doing sweater paws with his hoodie? Such a slut. 

“I can think of one but…” he stammers, “not quite brave enough yet to use it.”

“That’s ok.” Your hands drift up to his chest, where you start to play with drawstrings of his hoodie. “Let me get you some water…do you need a snack before we get started?” 

He considers for a bit but shakes his head. “I can wait until you’re done with me”

You suppress a whimper. He’s in his subspace for you. Get it together. Also, easily entertained much? 

All he said implied was that he’d need sustenance after whatever you do to him because you’ll use him for all he’s worth. Very normal! Not worth whimpering over! “Let me show you my bedroom.” 

You gently pull let the hoodie’s drawstrings bounce as you let go of them. When you step inside your room he chuckles a little.

“Squishmallows eh?”

You give him a playful sneer, although any other time you would have laid into him. “Better get comfy with them if you want to do this.”

He’s already on the bed, shoes kicked off. He grabs one that looks like a shark and holds it to his chest. “Genuinely…your bedroom is really cozy. Thanks for having me over.” He says this as if it was any other conversation, but then he licks his lips a little. “I’m just going to lay here until you need or want me to do something. Is that ok?”

Well. You’re already straddling him before he can finish. “What have you been doing the past three days…hm?”

“I uh…” he stammers and looks up at you with watery puppy eyes. “Working. But…there were some things I didn’t do…”

“Yeah like talk to me.”

“Tsk. Stop. Just because we’re doing this doesn’t mean I’ve become a complete nympho. Honestly.” He rolls his eyes and looks away. “I was going to text you tomorrow anyways. I haven’t touched myself since that night we texted…haven’t…” he shifts under your weight and you feel a slight throb.

“Oh…is three days a long time for you? Hmm?”

He chuckles a little and squeezes the shark. “It’s…” he snorts when he laughs and hides his face. You move his hands and he chuckles a little more. What a beautiful sound. You realize you could recognize it anywhere and be better for it. “Yeah yeah yeah. It's been a long time for me. It’s usually everyday. Twice.”

“You gave up…six orgasms…for me? Of your own free will?”

“I wanted to do eight, gorgeous. I really did. But you texted and…”

“Well who said you were cumming tonight?”

He takes a deep breath and his eyes roll back a little. “My mistake.”

“No no no.” You lean down and kiss his forehead. “You did the right thing. Saving yourself up for me.” Your kisses trail down to his jaw. Fuck his soft and smooth. You gently nip at his earlobe and chuckle softly as he whines with pleasure. “You know what you are?”

“Hmm?” He lets out hazily. 

“A good boy. A good puppy. Coming when called. Obeying.” Your nose trails against his and you think for a second that this will be a repeat. You two will snap out of it. But he squirms again and pouts.

“I can be so good…please…”

“I’m not even doing anything to you yet…”

He groans as you slide off him and start palming his crotch. 

“Do you know how many times I got off thinking about that video you sent me?”

His cock bobs against your touch as he groans pathetically. “N-no…no idea. It wasn’t much…” 

You start to stroke him. Oh he’s needed this. His hips buck up into hand as he white knuckles the stuffed shark. Mumbled pleas fall from his pretty lips as you ask him what he’s hiding in his sweats. Your fingers slide under his waistband. His moans are whiny and whimpering. 

“Such a puppy.”

You slide his sweats and underwear slowly…just enough to free his cock. You gasp aloud. “Oh my goodness…Ves…look at you. Look. HEY.” You snap a bit to get his attention. His head is lolling back and you haven’t even touched his uncovered cock yet. “I said to look.”

He looks down and groans again as your manicured hands stroke him. You bite your lip and think about how exquisite it’ll feel inside you. The shark squishmallow is put to the side, and he comes up on his elbows. “Mmm..mm…your hands are so pretty. S’soft. Fuuuuck.” Your strokes are gentle and steady. His hips buck to control the pace but you gently flick his tummy. 

“Good boys don’t take.”

He pouts and settles into your bed. He seems to be enjoying himself. His legs twitching, his moans coming more often than not. But you wanted to play. You wanted his brain off. For now he was yours. You stop stroking. “Ves. Look at me.”

He whimpers when you stop and raises his head. The whimper turns into a strangled sob as the long string of spit from your lips coats the head. Your slow, teasing, wet strokes make his face contort like he’s sobbing. “Fffffff….uuuuCK! M-m-mmmm…mommy please.” You freeze and look up at him. 

“What was that?”

His face is all panic. “Oh my god oh my god no I’m sorry. It just slipped out…I’ll…fuck…no I’m so sorry.”

You lean forward and shut him up with a tender kiss on the lips. You allow his hands to trail over your ass and breasts, letting his touch linger a bit too long over your nipples. When you pull away, he’s blushing like crazy with hazy, dreamy eyes. “You’re such a good boy,” you whisper.

“T-thank you…mommy.” 

You slip out of your clothes and relish in his gaze. For the first time you don’t feel like he’s here to be your biggest critic…and you don’t need to mouth off to him. He looks at you with a dopey little grin. “Are you going to use me?”

You chuckle softly as you straddle him again. “You could say that. Make you my little boy toy. Would you like that?”

His whimpering keeps him from answering, probably because you’re teasing the head of his cock with your already wet pussy. “God…please use me. Please…it’s what I’m good for…I’ll make you so happy mommy I promise…please!!”

You blush and forget yourself for a bit when he brings one of his hands to his face. He looks adorable. He needs to be held. He needs kisses. “Give me a hand, puppy. Hold yourself still.”

He reaches down and holds his cock as you slide down. He hisses in pleasure and whines as you moan from the stretch. You grasp his chest as his cock disappears into your pretty pussy, your head thrown back and mouth wide open. Vessel’s breath is coming hard and fast as he touches you. He’s bottomed out inside you and he doesn’t dare move. You haven’t told him to. He needs to be good. The past three days won’t have been worth it if he fucks this up. 

You reach back and pat his thigh. “Bend your legs, puppy.”

“Yeah…yeah ok…” he groans out as he obeys. One hand holds his waist while the other trails under his hoodie. He whimpers and bites his lip as you toy with his nipple. 

“Lift your hoodie.” He lifts it only to expose his stomach but stops there. You tsk and pull it up so his chest is uncovered…mmm. “Look at my pretty boy…” you whisper as you kiss across his chest. You take in the warmth and natural scent of his skin…how he tastes under your little licks across his nipples…the texture of his skin between your teeth. A delicious chain reaction occurs when his cock throbs hard against you after leaving teeth marks on one of his pecs. “You’re being so good. I didn’t even have to tell you what to do.”

He looks at you hazily. You’ve only been cockwarming him, and he’s already empty headed. He nods dumbly but then yelps when your pussy clenched around him. 

“Tell me what you thought about that night…when you made the video.”

He gulps and holds you close to his chest. His cock is buried in your tight pussy but he doesn’t dare move.

“I..heh…I thought about being your seat. Your human mattress.”

You kiss and suck on his neck, admiring the red marks already decorating him. “Oh? You like being squished?”

“I thought about something like this. But you’re…you’re fucking me. You lay on my dead weight and then…” his cock throbs inside you and he whimpers.

“Shh I know,” you kiss his temple and nuzzle his face gently. “It feels so fucking good, huh? You like being under me like this?”

“Mhmmm…so safe…mm soft…fuck!” He holds on to you like he did with the shark plushie, his fingers pressing into your flesh desperately. He grits his teeth as he throbs inside you and whines. “Y-y-you’re so…tight. What the fuuuuuck.”

All this time you’ve been covering his face with kisses, grabbing his chin every time he tried to hide from your affection. His heels dig into your bed as he tries to keep himself from squirming and fucking you.

“Can you be still? Hm?”

“Ye…yeah. Yeah sorry…you just…aahhhh fuck…”

“Use your words, Vessy.” 

His eyes roll back and his back arches slightly. “Don’t call me that…makes me feel little…”

“I do have you pinned down…don’t I? You’re the one squirming.”

His eyes are glassy as he pouts. “Are you enjoying this? I…I…don’t feel like you are…”

You consider this for a second. 

“I don’t want to keep going if you’re not…” His eyes are desperate. “You need this too…fuck…please tell me you need this. You want this right? Please I’ll make you feel so good…if you just bounce on it a little. Please please…I’ll be such a good boy. You can lay on me and…and…I’ll just be a toy. I can take it…let me show you.” 

You don’t even realize you’ve started fucking him. Your hips roll gently, and he lets out an almost pained moan. His hips meet yours and your eyes roll back.

“Fuck…puppy…” your head and vision go a bit fuzzy as he bucks into you and…oh dear.

“Shit shit shit…I’m…I’m sorry…I’m cumming…baby…baby…” he bites his lip and looks up for reassurance as his hands mash you down further on his cock. He hates that he came so fast, it’s clear, but fuck it feels good. 

“It’s ok…cum for me…” you whisper. 

He lays back and catches his breath. You don’t move…his spent cock still trembling in your pussy. He whimpers pathetically.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. He’s clearly not just coming off his high. 

“Fuck I just….” He closes his eyes. “That’s so embarrassing. We barely did anything and I just…came like a fucking virgin. Go ahead.” He covers his eyes with his arm, “make fun of me. Tell me how pathetic I am.” Wow. He already wants to go back to normal.

“No. I don’t think I will.” 

You’re still on top of him. Cockwarming him. You gently move his arm and look at him softly. His lips twitch. Not to kiss you, but to try and smile. 

“You feel nice on me,” he whispers. “I really like your body. Even…even before we started this. Thought you were pretty.”

You chuckle a little and rest your chin in your hand. “Not sure why.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you know why I hate you?”

You shake your head and let out a little laugh. 

“It’s because you’ve made me realize I don’t have to be miserable. That I could be someone to someone else. But that requires…change. Taking care of my…stupid self. Being better. I can’t have you. You don’t want me as I am. Honestly. I’m a wreck. It’s better for you to hate me and only see me as a plaything.”

His hands trace lazy patterns on your back. How strange it is to have this conversation while he’s inside…but that doesn’t bother you as much as his confession does. 

“Vessel. Jesus. I…Ves…I can’t stand you because you’ve never been nice to me. And now you’re saying it’s because you like me too much, yet not enough to get over yourself?”

He winces and sniffs. “It would be easier, getting over myself, rather than trying to not feel something for you.”

You move his face so he’s looking at you again. “Do you want to leave,” you ask. “You don’t have to stay longer than you want.”

Ves cups your face and tries to steady his breathing. “No. No, I don't want to leave. I want to stay and pretend I’m not me for just a little while. Is that ok?” You stare at each other…your breathing syncs…your eyes search other’s face. He strokes your face and purrs softly as his cock begins to stiffen again. Each time it throbs, you whimper, which in turn makes him chuckle softly. His hand slides down to your ass. “I need you. You’re the only one I want to…be with like this.”

“You don’t want this with someone you love.”

His eyes bore through you. He huffs and bites his lip, leaving an indention you swear would break skin. “May I please…may I please fuck you again? Properly. The way you deserve.”

You gasp softly and nod. “Would you like to be on top, puppy?”

His inhale is shuddering and sharp as he nods dumbly. You slide off him and lay beside him on your stomach. Ves seems confused.

“A-a-are you sure? From behind?”

You nod and beckon him closer. He slides off his sweats but you tell him to keep the hoodie on. “How hard are you for me?”

Leaning against you between your legs, he lightly taps his cock on your ass. It’s heavy and feels warm against your curves. He kneads your plush ass and whines a little. “So lucky…I am such..a…lucky…fucking…boy….fuuucckkkk.” He presses into your gushy pussy with a long, pathetic moan. You press against him, and his grip on your hips becomes shaky. “GOD you’re so hot….fuuccckkkkkk.”

You chuckle and moan as he thrusts gently…just trying to create some friction without completely losing his mind. He leans down and you feel the draw strings of his hood tickle your back. You reach behind you.

“What is it?”

“Come here, puppy,” you whisper softly. When he does you’re able to grab the drawstrings…anything to keep him in place. Leash him. Your fingers grip the collar of his hoodie now, and he collapses into you. “You going to be good? Stay right here for me, hm?”

He can’t even speak…he just lets out whimpers and moans that sound like sobs. You can only gasp with each thrust as he blubbers about it feeling “so..so..so..fucking good.” He whines into your shoulder as you pull him closer but the hoodie. “Please…let me…let me touch…please…”

“Mhm…” you let out weakly as he ruts into you. His hand trails down and under you towards your clit. You buck back into him as his nimble fingers find your clit. Cumming on your tummy never came easy, but with an eager lover, you think now it could happen. No matter who’s fingers it was rubbing your puffy clit between his fingers. 

“Mm…baby…baby let me bad. Please I know…i know…i know… I’m good boy but please let me bad…”

You grip your pillow and groan as your pussy quakes around his long cock. He takes this and your slutty, high pitched moan as consent. He takes your wrists in one hand and grips them roughly. You would be concerned about bruises if you weren’t seeing stars from the way his cock’s head rubs against your g-spot. He lets out something like a growl as he fucks you faster and harder. You’re mashed into the bed and cumming for the second time as he grabs you tight and bites your shoulder. You yelp and moan pathetically.

“Ves you’re so bad….you’re so…fucking naughty….” You’re cumming again as you lift your ass like you want him to mount you even deeper. He takes a break just to feel your orgasm squeeze him and to catch his breath. You let go of his hoodie, and he quickly rips it off. A sharp spank lands on your ass…he hisses with pleasure as he watches the skin of your ass cheek pinken before he lands another on you. 

“May…may I roll you over…please” he asks as he pulls out of you and rolls you over. It’s almost adorable how he toes the line between the asshole you know and a precious submissive boy. He spreads your legs, putting one up against his chest as he presses his cock back into you. One hand grasps your tummy and the other holds your ankle for leverage. “You’ve ruined me…” he moans as your name falls from his lips. Over. And over. And…over. He nibbles and kisses your ankle as he presses hard on your squishy lower tummy. His gasps come hard as it’s quite clear he’s reaching his limit.

“Ves…you’re gonna make me…fuck…I’m…”

“That’s it. Please…I want to see it…I need it…you’re so …ffffucking gorgeous….” he grabs you harder and rams into you with a powerful groan, his eyes wild as he exhales and bites his lip. “You’re…you’re going to cum…so….FUCKING hard on me…you won’t be able to cum again without thinking about me…Fffffuuuhhh”

His face contorts as his second orgasm ripples through his entire body. The thrusts become short, hurried bumps against your pussy as your back arches. You begin to rub your clit in rough, hurried circles as he fucks his cum hard into you. His eyes are misty as he mumbles about what a pretty angel you are…how good you’re taking his dick when…oh god…

A few moments later, he’s pulled out of you, looking down at the mess you made. You had never…ever squirted. And this…well…Vessel did that. You had no energy to hate. To be mean. Everything was different now. “I…wow…”

“Ever done that before?”

You lay back and catch your breath, wiping your watering eyes, shaking your head. “No…so…thanks I guess.”

He rubs your thighs and chuckles. “You’re amazing. Do you know that?”

You smile up at him and chuckle.

“Christ, what?”

“You’ve ruined it.”

“Oh…fuck off..ruined what?” He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“My plans to die alone and hate you forever…thanks a lot.”

“Likewise, sweetheart.”

[doberbutts]

So I'm going to ask an honest question here and ask you please explain in layman's terms. Every trans person I know irl has no concept of the transandrophobia discourse but every time I see more of it online I'm...unsettled, and it takes a lot to power through all the terminology.

I initially was really receptive to transandrophobia because the rationale behind being against it sounded stupid and akin to label discourse in the queer community. I saw "being a man is not an axis of oppression therefore you don't get your Own Word" and thought that was pedantic nonsense, that language doesn't need to adhere to that rule, and that it's helpful to have a term designated towards transmasculine experiences so people can find those experiences easier. Not that trans women's experiences aren't also beneficial! But that, well, obviously no matter how similar the experience birds of a feather and that sense of comfort of sharing identity still matters. This is true for other issues of identity too, I find, weather that's a good thing or a bad thing idk, but it is human.

The thing is I follow a lot of transwomen and have been seeing some alarms being raised about the community being formed around this word. You blocked one of the most egregious offenders so I trust you (which is why I'm asking sorry) I've seen a lot of misogyny and essentialism from people using the term "transandrophobia" and more egregiously "transmisandry." Idk your opinion on the latter term (I haven't scrolled down far enough on your blog, sorry if you talked about this before) but to me it's unconscionable. I was taught that transandrophobia existed as a term specifically NOT to use that term, that elevating misandry to a legitimate issue was dangerous for obvious reasons and it was one of the reasons why I was so supportive of transandrophobia. To me, it seemed like an awareness that misogyny was the prevailing issue behind all issues of gender oppression, but when I actually look at the tag I...get uncomfortable.

Blogs I follow have repeatedly been upset at misogyny from this community, and have been using the term "transandrobro" to describe behavior they find akin to cis MRAs. I've truly seen horrible things with hundreds, sometimes thousands of notes to it that do, unfortunately, feel like women are being blamed for the plight of trans men. I've seen cis people say they were originally on MRA reddits and then came to tumblr to "confront the misandry directly" only to wholeheartedly adopt transandrophobia into their worldview. It's hard because I KNOW I shouldn't judge a community based on a few crazies but it truly does feel sometimes like "transandrophobia" gives misogynists a venue to air their woman-hating to an eager audience, kinda like how "Karen" has been co-opted beyond the og meaning of being for racist white woman to any woman being mildly rude.

So like, here it is: can transandrophobia exist without being co-opted by misogynists? Is there a threshold of proliferation for misogynists destroying this word until a new one needs to be made? Or will every word trying to identify the transmasculine experience be inevitably co-opted by misogynists because misogynists are just that powerful, so people should double down harder on the word and work to push misogynists out?

(Also am I going crazy, or did this word a year ago used to have a WAY better community than the one I see nowadays. Back then I could find your blog and really compassionate people easily, and now it's just...bad.)

It is a little hard to understand some of this post but I will do my best to answer what I think is being asked.

To put simply, I think the reason why it was better a year or two ago is because the majority of the people who were actually trying to further the conversation and not just circle jerk in the echo chamber got chased off. Transandrophobia, anti-transmasculinity, transandromisia, transmascphobia... the guys who coined these are largely either not posting at all anymore or post far far less than they used to. They were harassed and the constant exposure to transphobia made them shut down their blogs for their own mental health. Not all of them, but a lot of the so-called "big names" had this happen.

Even I stopped posting for a while and shuttered the doors for a bit outside of a long queue of dog photos because of how much it was affecting my mental health.

In their place remain people who are not committed to the same conversation. Perhaps they are younger, or less familiar with the building blocks of theory that really should be required reading, or are still stuck in their "everything sucks and it's YOUR fault" phase. Maybe they do come from different places, like 4chan or reddit, which are less prone to this sort of discussion. A lot of the original crowd had been on tumblr long enough to remember when we could still edit posts, and I keep seeing people who would have been in elementary school at that time posting to the tag nowadays.

I was discussing this problem on discord with a small group of friends and one of them- a trans fem- called it second wave transandrophobia discourse as a bitter joke. I think she is more right than wrong, regardless.

I'm not sure who you believe I've blocked- in general I don't air out who I block on this blog because at nearly 12k followers there are too many people who would love to dogpile someone for the sin of disagreeing with me and I do my best to prevent that. I don't want anyone to be harassed, after all. There's a lot of assumptions that have been made about my block and follow behavior that vary from "hilarious but untrue" to "outright offensive slander".

People are people, and some people are shitheads. Trans mascs and people who want to support trans mascs are not exempt from that. I say this all the time- Kayne West is objectively a shitty person but his existence doesn't prove the concept of antiblackness to be a myth. Caitlyn Jenner is objectively a shitty person but her existence doesn't prove the concept of transmisogyny to be a myth. So why do shitty trans mascs prove our own theory to be dangerous or nonexistent? Why hold us to a higher standard than any other marginalized group?

I could ask you the same question- there are posts on here with hundreds, sometimes thousands, of notes made by trans fems and cis women who blame their problems with transmisogyny on trans mascs. There are people coming from reddit, Twitter, 4chan who are being actively transphobic and misogynistic and claiming they're doing it for the good of transfeminism. There are posts filled with misogyny and bioessentialism and gender essentialism and even interphobia and racism and transphobia being left completely unchecked. Do you think it would be acceptable for me to ask if that means transmisogyny theory should be abandoned or if we should just accept that it will draw people with bad intentions?

Or do you think the better answer is to focus instead on finding those with a good head on their shoulders, and making sure it's them who has their voice heard? Do you think we should maybe not judge entire demographics because there exists some shitty people who claim the same identity?

[rispwr]

can we have a drabble or oneshot where the oc says 'i can't pay for anything* this time' or offers to split the budget 50/50 and jungkook literally😒😤😡🤬 gets mad like I'm your man I'm responsible for you etc🤭hehehhe make me a delululu, I don't have work tomorrow♥️😂

number one girl - drabble - read here for full fic

complete fluff, not proofread

sypnosis : you prank your bf telling him to split the bill

wc : 1,5k

note : so kinda missed this couple so wanted to write a drabble. thank you for the requests!! will be taking more requests from now onn!!

if you've been tagged in this fic im sorry omg. idk how to put the character's socmed without it taggig sum1 else.

3 years later -

It's been 3 years and college life is exhausting. Between classes, endless assignments, and my political science presentation looming over my head, I barely had time to breathe. Today was no different. I was in class, scribbling notes while trying to keep up with the lecture, when my phone began vibrating incessantly in my bag.

I ignored it at first, assuming it was just another group chat blowing up, but the vibrations didn’t stop. They kept coming, one after another, until I was sure the entire class could hear the faint buzz.

At this point, my phone might as well have been a vibrator.

Finally, I gave in, pulling my phone out discreetly under the desk. The notifications flooding my screen were all from one person.

From Messages:

loml 💕: babyy loml 💕: babyyyy loml 💕: boyfriend being ignored.

To Email: From: To: y/n@gmail.com Subject: boyfriend being ignored

To Instagram: @jakayyy tagged you in a story: "boyfriend being ignored 😔💔"

To Twitter: @j.k tweeted: boyfriend being ignored....

And then LinkedIn: @jeonjungkook updated his status: boyfriend being ignored... i miss you.

I stifled a laugh, covering my mouth with my hand as I scrolled through the barrage of notifications. Jungkook was relentless, and honestly, it was impressive how far he’d go to get my attention.

I quickly opened my messages to reply.

Me: omygod kook, I was in class 😭 loml 💕: idc I miss youuuu Me: me or Sam and Rachael? loml 💕: both...? Me: I’m in class rn. Don’t you have class too?? loml 💕: I don’t... Me: did you skip??? loml 💕: gee no loml 💕: my classes aren’t until later loml 💕: wanna have dinner with me later? Me: I have a presentation to make.... loml 💕: baby... loml 💕: as much as I love you as my nerd, you NEED a break loml 💕: pleaseee pleaseee Me: fine. Me: I’ll make time. loml 💕: see you later pretty 😉

I sighed, slipping my phone back into my bag. It was impossible to stay annoyed at him for long. Jungkook had a way of breaking through the stress and pulling me back to reality—whether it was through relentless notifications or his absurd LinkedIn updates.

As I tried to refocus on class, my seatmate, Anna, leaned over with her phone.

"Girl, have you seen this?" she whispered, showing me a TikTok video of a girl pranking her boyfriend by telling him they’d split the bill 50/50 at dinner.

I smirked, glancing at the screen. "Yeah, I’ve seen it. What’d your boyfriend say?"

Anna sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "I tried it yesterday. This man pushed the bill to me and didn’t even reach for his wallet. I ended up paying for the whole meal."

"Damn," I chuckled, shaking my head. "You should find a new one."

She groaned, slumping in her seat. "Tell me about it."

As the lecture continued, the thought lingered in my mind. I didn’t like asking people for things, especially money, but the idea of pulling the prank on Jungkook intrigued me.

What would he do?

Jungkook wasn’t like Anna’s boyfriend. For the past two years, he’d gone above and beyond to prove himself to me whether it was getting straight A’s, joining every project he could find, or taking me on dates he planned down to the smallest detail. 

-----

I was finishing the last touches of my makeup when I heard a knock at the door.

"Babyyyy!! Boyfriend at your service!" Jungkook’s voice rang out through my ring doorbell, his playful tone making me chuckle.

I opened the door, only to be met with his signature wide grin and a tight hug that nearly lifted me off my feet. His arms wrapped securely around me as he buried his face into my neck.

"Hmmm, I missed you so much," he murmured against my skin, his words accompanied by soft, feather-light kisses trailing from my neck to my lips.

I couldn’t help but melt into him, returning his embrace before he pulled back slightly to look at me. His eyes scanned me slowly from head to toe, and I felt a blush creep up my neck.

"Why are you staring?" I asked shyly, trying to hide my flustered expression.

"Why?" he repeated, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Can’t a man look at the most gorgeous woman in his life?"

I rolled my eyes, lightly hitting his arm as he laughed.

"Gosh, let me just wear my heels, and we’ll be good to go,"

We arrived at the diner a little while later, and I was immediately taken aback. The place was fancy too fancy. The kind of fancy that makes you wonder why you didn’t eat at home before coming.

As we walked in, Jungkook kept his hand lightly on the small of my back, guiding me to our table like a gentleman. The menu was placed in front of us, and when I opened it, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

"Goddamn," I whispered under my breath, scanning the exorbitant prices.

Jungkook, however, seemed completely unfazed. He looked at me with that easy, confident smile. "Go ahead, baby. Order whatever you want."

His words were casual, but the sincerity in his tone made my heart flutter.

Once we finished ordering, the dinner passed like it always did with Jungkook filled with laughter, shared stories, and moments where he’d reach across the table to hold my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"So," he started, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at me. "What’s my nerd been up to today?"

"Same as always," I said, shrugging. "Class, notes, presentation prep..."

He groaned dramatically. "You’re gonna burn yourself out. I told you, you need to relax sometimes."

"I’m here, aren’t I?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

"True," he said with a grin. "I’ll take what I can get."

Finally, the bill arrived, and I couldn’t help but glance at it from the corner of my eye.

It was time.

"So," I said, feigning nonchalance as I folded my napkin. "What if we split the bill tonight?"

Jungkook paused mid-reach for the check, his eyes snapping to mine.

"What?" he said, his voice calm but laced with confusion.

"You know," I said with a small shrug, "50/50. Equal partnership, right?"

For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"Is this a test?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"What? No," I lied, trying to keep a straight face.

 Jungkook slid his card to the waiter with a firm gesture, cutting me off entirely.

"I’m your man, you’re my woman," he began, his tone steady but laced with conviction. "I am responsible for you and our finances. You’re my future wife, the number one woman in my life, and the mother of my future children. How could I even think of making you pay?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. "But—"

"No buts," he interrupted.

Then, as if on cue, his gaze shifted toward my phone. His expression softened, his brows raising slightly as realization dawned.

"Babyyy..." he whined, his voice taking on a playful edge as he looked at me with mock betrayal. "You’re filming me, aren’t you?"

I couldn’t hold back a giggle, my shoulders shaking as I tried to keep the phone steady. "Kook..." I whispered, almost apologetically, though the blush on my face deepened from the vulnerability of his earlier confession.

He sighed, shaking his head but chuckling as he paid for the meal. Once the waiter returned with the receipt, he stood and helped me up like the gentleman he always was.

----

Before he could start the car, I reached out and rested my head on his shoulder.

"You passed the experiment," I muttered softly, the words muffled against his jacket.

He let out a laugh, the deep sound reverberating in his chest. He turned slightly to look at me, his eyes warm as they met mine.

"You’re unbelievable," he said, his voice filled with affection.

We stayed like that for a moment, the silence between us comfortable and familiar. Then, without warning, he leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly grew deeper.

His hand cupped the side of my face, tilting my head slightly as he deepened the kiss, pulling me closer.

My heart raced as I kissed him back, my hand curling around the fabric of his jacket. But just as the moment began to intensify, I pulled back slightly, my forehead resting against his.

"Let’s go home first... please?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as I smiled at him.

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek before he leaned back in his seat, his eyes still fixed on me.

"Anything you want, baby," he murmured, his voice full of promise as he started the car and drove us home.